Shin-Kawasaki Rendezvous (新川崎ランデブー)

But when October 10 actually rolled around, Cullen was too nervous to tell Tharin anything about his family. He had to concentrate his efforts on coming out to Thom Rainier. He decided to trust Thom's unflappable nature and make a simple statement to that effect.

He had to resist the urge to rub his neck or fidget the entire train ride from Yokosuka. Thom was his usual calm, hushed self, staring outside the window at the Japanese cityscape passing by.

Cullen had coordinated this moment as meticulously as humanly possible. They were standing at the first door of the fifth car, the location of which he texted to Tharin, and the young man would wait at that exact spot in Shin-Kawasaki.

As the train closed its doors and began to clunk out of Yokohama Station, Cullen checked his phone. It was 1025. They would arrive at the next stop in eight minutes. He had to make these minutes count.

Cullen cleared his throat and began to speak, "Thom… I have something to tell you."

Thom Rainier turned around and stared at Cullen impassively with his arms crossed. Cullen was at a loss for words and rubbed his neck reflexively. Feeling frustrated, he silently chastised himself for doing the exact thing he had been avoiding for nearly an hour.

After what seemed like an eternity, Thom demanded with that gruff bass tone of his, "Well, go on. What is it?"

The prompting did the trick. It opened Cullen's floodgate. With his eardrums pounding to the rhythm of his all-too-loud heartbeats, he declared, "I'm bi. Uh, bisexual. I've been dating a man. He's getting on at the next stop."

"Oh." Thom Rainier never once broke his stoic exterior. To this reaction, Cullen did not know what to do. If Thom had shown either an overtly negative or positive reaction, Cullen would at least have some idea as to how to cope with it. Yet this was something else altogether. How do you deal with what seemed like apathy?

Thom directed his gaze to the floor. With his bushy eyebrows raised, he began to speak haltingly, "I… kind of figured that you were… um. Dating. But I didn't expect it to be… with a man."

"Yeah."

"You happy?" When Thom raised his face, Cullen saw his reseda eyes turn plaintive. Was it envy he saw in them?

He breathed and added simply, "Yeah. Very."

Thom nodded. After another minute of silence, in which Thom redirected his gaze back outside the window, he finally queried, "Do you need me to keep quiet about this? I will if you want that."

A part of Cullen felt like he was once again letting Tharin down by asking Thom to remain silent, and the feeling needled him relentlessly. On the other hand, this was none of others' business. And he was not ready for the whole Navy to know about the relationship. Coming out to Thom seemed like a significant enough step for Cullen.

"…Thanks, Thom."

Thom did not look back as he acknowledged, "You're welcome."

Cullen contemplated as the train closed in on Shin-Kawasaki. He implicitly understood that coming out was a process, the speed of which should be dictated by him. And he found himself ready to come out to anyone who happened upon his relationship with Tharin. But it did not seem all that necessary or prudent to advertise the relationship all over the Navy.

Because Cullen could not ignore the fact that at the end of the day, many sailors did treat their fellow LGBT+ members differently. Thom was a rare exception. In fact, in his first assignment, Cullen heard enough homophobic comments disguised as jokes from other sailors to last him a lifetime. Cullen knew that those remarks could just as easily be turned into constant harassments and even physical assaults.

In the end, Cullen realized that shame was not the primary factor behind his decision to have Thom keep mum. It was his desire to protect Tharin and himself, not to mention their privacy, first and foremost. Of course, he could not be certain that his internalized homophobia played no role whatsoever, but he knew he would be swimming against the current just by being openly bisexual in the military. Letting everyone in on his relationship would be reckless, not brave.

As Cullen took apart and analyzed his motivation, the guilt squeezing his heart like a coiled snake let loose, and he could breathe easier.

Amid the comfortable silence between the two men, the train slid into Shin-Kawasaki Station. When the automatic door opened with a beeping noise, there was Tharin standing on the platform.

Cullen had been going out with Tharin long enough to know that the young man was dressed in his most presentable ensemble. A button-down shirt with a blue and off-white checkered pattern carefully tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Sleeves were rolled up, but at this point Cullen was apt to think of it as a habit rather than an effort to boast. A dark navy skinny tie draped in the middle. Brown belt and brown loafers accompanied everything. Sharp and clean-cut, everything was thought out and chosen carefully to impress and not to offend.

The tie was a new look on the young man. Cullen quite liked it. In fact, he liked it so much that he made a mental note of it and filed it away. For future reference. Of important things…

On his side, he had on a leather messenger bag that Cullen had never seen before. It must be something he took to school every day. His grip on the shoulder strap was tight, he could see.

The young man boarded the train and with practiced effortlessness, extended his right hand to Thom, the only person standing near Cullen.

With an affected smile that Cullen had never seen from him, the young man intoned, "Nice to meet you. I'm Tharin. Cullen's boyfriend."

Thom, his demeanor entirely unchanged, shook the hand and returned the greeting, "Cullen's mentioned. I'm Thom. It's nice to meet you too."

After Thom turned his eyes back to the moving landscape, clear in his intention to terminate the conversation, Tharin eyed at Cullen, seemingly inquiring about how the coming out went. His heart finally began to slow down, so Cullen let the corners of his lips curve up and put his left arm around the young man. The matter was settled as neatly as it could possibly have been, and there was nothing more to be said.

Shibuya Crossing (渋谷スクランブル交差点) and Narishiro-Mizuno (成城水野)

After making a plan to meet back in Shin-Kawasaki at 2200, Cullen and Tharin bid farewell to Thom, who stayed onboard the Yokosuka Line, and switched trains in Shinagawa.

As they walked the spacious concourse of Shinagawa Station toward platform number two, Cullen commented, "That was a lucky break." He could not believe how relaxed he felt about the whole interaction now.

Guiding the other man forward, Tharin concurred, "You mean with Thom? Yeah. He seemed good with it."

A random thought popped into Cullen's mind. "Do you think…? Naw…"

The young man actually turned to look back and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"It's just an idea I had. I wonder if Josie and Thom might hit it off if we brought them together?"

Cullen could tell that his suggestion had thrown Tharin off. The lines on his forehead stood out. "Uh…? I've honestly no idea. But they are such different people. The only thing they have in common is that they are both single, I assume."

Cullen was about to argue that Tharin and he were different people, yet they were making it work. But then, he thought better of it and dropped the subject. There was no reason for him to play the role of a yenta.

They embarked on the Yamanote Line's yellow green train and passed four stops before gliding into Shibuya Station.

Describing Shibuya as crowded would have been an understatement. Even on a Sunday, there were waves upon waves of passengers. They followed them outside, where the first thing they ran into was a bronze statue of a dog. It stood at the center of an area walled off from the rest of the plaza by trees whose leaves were just beginning to turn.

In spite of the fact that it was overflowing with people, this part of the plaza was strangely liminal. People surrounding the statue seemed to be either tourists or locals in their cloth masks waiting for someone. A station for people who just exited the station.

There was a team of two young women, obviously foreign, taking photos of the statue with their phones. The rest were standing around, engrossed in their phone screens.

Tharin exclaimed, "Hey, it's Hachikō! We should take a picture with him."

Cullen watched as the young man approached the statue and rubbed its right front paw. The front legs were shiny. "Hachikō?"

"Yeah, it's the dog who greeted his owner here at the station every day. Even after his owner died, he showed up at the station waiting for his return for ten years before he died too."

"That's a sad story."

"I guess it is. People meet up here now."

Cullen handed Tharin his phone and walked to the statue. He stood beside it, patted its side first, and then took a position with his right hand touching the left front paw. He tried to smile as naturally as possible, which resulted in the most unnatural smile he could have conjured.

Tharin chortled as he snapped the shots. As he scrolled through the photos he had taken, he declared with pure mirth in his voice, "You look like someone caught you doing something bad."

Cullen trotted over to the young man and peered at the photos. He indeed looked stiff like a robot. He soughed, "Alright. Your turn."

"Ah-ah, we aren't done with you yet." Tharin waved to one of the young women who had been taking pictures of the statue and spoke in English, "Would you mind taking a picture of us together?"

One of the young women grinned genially and approached. Tharin handed her his phone and pulled Cullen toward the statue. His gait was confident and sure.

Once they took the position next to the statue, Tharin held out his left hand and asked, "Do you mind if we…?" Cullen felt his cheeks flush, but nevertheless reached out and twined their hands together. The young man then made the broadest, toothiest smile he probably could have mustered and held up his right hand in the peace sign.

It was almost mysterious how the young man could be so free with little gestures of affection, even in public. Cullen could not help but feel tense and nervous. On the other hand, however, he also felt warm and proud of the progress they had made. Holding hands in front of an audience definitely counted as an achievement.

The young woman remarked, "You guys are so cute together!" as she took the photos. Tharin thanked her as though he were a movie star signing autographs for screaming fans. Suave and practiced.

Afterwards, Tharin talked to the two young women with ease. Tharin was definitely an extrovert. There was no doubt in Cullen's mind.

Tharin introduced Cullen to the two women as his boyfriend, which made Cullen's heart jump in excitement and apprehension. But the two women, Dagna and Lace from Germany, had their lips upturned benignly.

Dagna and Lace were friends who just started their study abroad semester in Tokyo. Tharin asked what they were doing in Shibuya, and Lace said with an undertone of a German accent, "Oh you know, we've been hitting a couple stops along the Yamanote every few days. And we decided to get some shopping done as well."

Tharin proclaimed, "Hey! That's what we are doing today, too! Hitting every major touristy place."

Lace inquired, "Which places are those?"

The young man counted off with his left hand. "Shibuya, Harajuku, Shinjuku, Ueno, maybe Akiba if we have any time, but probably not. And then the Tokyo Tower."

Dagna's face contorted in unmitigated surprise. "Wow, that's ambitious. That's too many in one day for us." She added with a similarly heavy German accent, "Anything interesting to do in Shibuya while you're at it?"

"Oh, boy, is there ever!" Tharin side-eyed Cullen, at whom Cullen responded with a dirty look. The young man gaily continued as he lifted his phone, "You guys heard about the movie Lost in Translation?"

The two women shook their heads in synchronicity. Young'uns. They had no idea how much culture they were missing. And then Cullen realized how old and crotchety he sounded in his head. He grunted in disapproval as his face lit up in embarrassment. Disregarding him, Tharin swiftly pulled up YouTube and began to play the movie's trailer.

"Oh, that's Scarlett Johansson!" exclaimed Dagna, her eyes glued to the phone screen.

"Yup! And Cullen here wants to be just like her in Shibuya. Pity it's not raining. I could've gotten him a cheap plastic umbrella," said Tharin gleefully as he paused the video at fifty-six-second mark.

Dagna and Lace giggled a little too much as Tharin enjoyed his own fit of laughter. Through the hilarity, Cullen strenuously remonstrated against the young man, "Hey, I said no such thing. You just let your imagination run amok."

Still, the jovial mood stayed as they followed the throng of people walking toward the crossing. In addition to Tharin conversing with Dagna and Lace in English, Cullen could hear conversations in all different kinds of European languages emanating from the crowd. Shibuya was obviously a tourist trap.

Cullen took photos of the whole scene. The crossing with a wall of pedestrians waiting for green light. The Tsutaya Building with a humongous Starbucks and one part of the wall entirely converted into a giant flat screen television. He even caught his companions unawares and snapped photos of them deep in conversation about studying at a Japanese university.

After crossing back and forth once, the two groups said their goodbyes and went their separate ways. Dagna and Lace went shopping at a department store nearby, and Cullen and Tharin headed back inside Shibuya Station. The young man squeezed Cullen's arm and inquired not at all seriously, "Alright, so we did that. Are you satisfied?"

Cullen answered just as facetiously, "Yes, very satisfied."

"Good. Now, I have a surprise for you."

The young man guided Cullen through a long corridor that seemed endless. They must have passed three or four different concourses to the platforms. Having arrived at a completely different part of Shibuya Station, they went downstairs and followed another long corridor.

The young man finally halted his steps in front of what appeared to be a small grocery store lined with dried goods, baked goods, and little bags of cookies. In fact, it was so small that it might as well have been a convenience store. There was an English sign that read Narishiro-Mizuno.

Cullen furrowed his brows. "Okay, so… we're here. What's here?"

With a glimmer in his cobalt eyes, Tharin explained, "I remembered you saying you couldn't get decent shortbread cookies anywhere, even though they are your favorite. So, I found a store that exclusively deals in imported goods. I checked; they have those Scottish shortbread."

At this unexpected answer, Cullen found himself speechless.

Shortbread cookies were indeed his favorite. That rich buttery taste that would linger in his mouth even after he was done with the cookie. It would remain until he drank a mouthful of black coffee with just a hint of sugary sweetness, which was his preferred method of consuming them.

He had been craving them ever since he arrived in Japan. Unfortunately, the commissary did not carry any of the brands that he liked. Attempting his hand at baking posed its own set of problems as well. He was far too busy, and in any case, his barrack room did not come with an oven. Besides, butter was far more expensive here than in the U.S. He had no desire to stoop to using margarine.

But more than that, shortbread cookies were one of the last links he had with his mother and father. They only required three ingredients: butter, sugar, and all-purpose flour. The simplicity made it an ideal first bake for children. And when his parents taught Mia and him to bake and cook, shortbread cookies were one of the first recipes the children attempted by themselves.

After his parents unexpectedly passed away in a car crash, Mia had to take over. In one night, she had been promoted from a reluctant live-in baby-sitter to the sole parent and guardian.

It was too much for a woman who had just turned eighteen to take on. She kept the family together despite floundering but sacrificed her own life to do so. She gave up on going to college and worked dead-end jobs, one of which literally broke her back. She then became addicted to pain medications, which she managed to keep to herself for years. Not an unusual story in rural America.

Every once in a while, Mia would get up early and bake shortbread cookies. Cullen could never understand her reasoning for doing so. The Rutherford children all loved shortbread cookies, but it did not constitute a good reason to wake up earlier to make them. But after he started living on his own at the college dormitory, he finally understood. Mia, the child who was forced to grow up faster than what was good for her, missed the stability and reassurance provided by their parents.

The thought of his family and their troubled past made Cullen emotional. He took deep breaths and dragged Tharin to a shadowy corner away from the front entrance of the store. He kissed the young man deeply and susurrated, "Thank you. You've no idea what this means to me." He then cinched his powerful arms around Tharin.

Tharin, no doubt surprised by this kind of reaction, did not add anything. Instead, he hugged back just as fiercely.

Cullen wanted to tell Tharin more about himself, about his family. Today was a great day to tell stories, he decided.

Tenyasu in Shinjuku (新宿天康)

When the two men departed from Shibuya and arrived in Shinjuku, the time was quarter to noon. It was nearly lunch time.

Cullen had found Shibuya Station crowded. Shinjuku Station, on the other hand, was absolutely clogged. Jampacked. And it wasn't a liminal space. It was large enough to contain a small world.

Keio, Odakyu, Seibu, and all sorts of JR trunk lines including the Yamanote Line transported upwards of three million people through this station every day. Even Tokyo subway lines had stations underneath. And there were at least three gargantuan department stores integrated into the station building.

Tharin explained that Shinjuku had been given the title of the busiest station by passenger use in the world by Guinness World Records. Cullen had no doubt that it was true.

And it was labyrinthine in the most unintuitive way. Cullen had never been to the station before, and while Tharin had, he could count the number of times on one hand. Not enough to actually remember the layout. And Google Maps or the JR East's website was no help whatsoever.

As Tharin kept looking around with his impotent phone seemingly stuck to his hand, Cullen did his best to closely observe all the different signage guiding to diverse points of interest. Surrounded by locals who seemed to know exactly where they were going, the two men were like flotsam left adrift in the waves.

The problem was that they were looking for the west exit when the south exit was closer from the platform they arrived at. After over ten minutes of wandering through the characterless halls of the station, Cullen pointed to a sign for the south exit and gently suggested, "Should we just go outside first and then find our way from there?"

Looking exasperated and frankly more than a little peeved, Tharin groaned, "Yeah, you might be right. Google Maps would work once we're outside anyway."

And as soon as they came out of the south exit, Tharin soughed. "Yup. Now I know exactly where we are going. Thanks, Google."

Despite the kerfuffle with the station layout, Cullen was enjoying this outing immensely. As they rounded the station and walked northward, he gazed up at the skyscrapers. There was something exhilarating about walking down a large boulevard at the center of the largest city in the world along with hundreds of complete strangers.

They followed the boulevard until they ran into a major intersection beyond the northern limits of the station and turned left. Ultimately, they turned into a narrow pedestrian walkway that led to Tenyasu, the tempura restaurant Tharin had made a reservation for.

The front of Tenyasu embodied the aesthetics of wabi-sabi. There was a muted electrical sign framed with wood that seemed to celebrate the empty spaces between each letter. No attempt to fill in the blanks with noisy embellishments here.

Underneath the sign was a miniature garden with tiled edges that included an irregularly shaped boulder and a vase with carefully assorted mix of pine needles and withered branches of unknown trees. Imperfect, impermanent, and yet its beauty only enhanced. Cullen already liked this place.

Tharin slid the front door open and entered, mindful of the decorative curtain hung on top of the door frame. Cullen followed in and was met with a savory scent of sesame oil.

Inside, there was wooden paneling everywhere, just like at Kumi. But this place did not appear cheap or lowbrow. The wood used here had a darker shade of brown, which had the effect of elevating the overall atmosphere of the place.

One side of the restaurant had an open kitchen and a bar that looked vintage. This place had been around for a while, Cullen could tell. On the other side was a raised floor with tatami mats, where Japanese families sat enjoying their lunch.

The restaurant was filled with patrons even though it had been open for less than an hour. A friendly Japanese server came over and conversed with Tharin. She then guided them to a far corner of the restaurant with tatami mats and rosy brown sitting cushions, where they had to take off their shoes to enter.

There was a middle-aged Japanese couple next to their table, and like many people in the tatami section, the one who was presumably the wife was kneeling while dining. She looked at ease kneeling. But knowing that he had not in him to kneel all through lunch, Cullen just crossed his legs and sat down comfortably. Evidently, it was the right thing to do, because Tharin proceeded to do the exact same.

The server left them with menus, but they were entirely in Japanese, even the prices. Well, Chinese characters mostly, so there was no hope for Cullen. A bit of a déjà vu for Cullen, seeing as the setup was the same at Kumi.

Hiragana and katakana, he could read with some effort. Chinese characters, fat chance. The only thing he could understand was that on prices, circles were zeroes. Tharin translated each item for him yet neglected to mention anything about the prices. It was the young man's turn to pay, and Cullen guessed that he was trying to be considerate as usual.

Feeling slightly awkward, Cullen still went ahead and asked, "What's the cheapest item on the menu?"

Tharin immediately scrunched his face and chided, "It's not every day we get to eat out at a place like this. Don't worry about it. Order whatever you want."

"Well, then, it's only fair for me to pay my share," asserted Cullen.

"No, I'll pay because I want to see you again. You know that's how it works with us," added the young man with a puckish face.

"We're boyfriends. Of course, I will see you again. There's no need to do that anymore."

"Still, I insist."

So, Cullen had only one option, which was to pick the cheapest item on his own. He began to ponder. The prix fixe would be the most expensive, so that one was out. The daily special was going to be up there as well in terms of price range. The choice was between the tempura rice bowl and the tempura box, and honestly, Cullen could not tell which would be more expensive.

"I'm getting the box," informed the young man, his discerning eyes focused on Cullen's contemplative expression.

Relieved, Cullen announced, "I'll get that too, then."

After the server came by and Tharin placed the orders for both of them, the young man leaned forward and began to speak in an eager tone.

"So, I know this is a little abrupt, but I wanted to hear your opinion as someone serving in the Navy."

Cullen could not fathom what the young man was about to ask, so he kept quiet.

And from the young man's mouth tumbled out words that he could not have guessed. "Have you heard of the Island Chain Strategy? The one about three island chains across the Pacific?"

"What?" The memory of the nightmarish first date with Ellana Lavellan came flooding back. A dirty, sewage-filled deluge that engulfed Cullen until he choked on the filth of self-hatred and self-pity.

After Ellana walked out on him, leaving behind two twenty-dollar bills and half-eaten food, he sat crestfallen at their table until a waiter came by to ask if he was all right. Cullen remembered everything. He first gave a brittle smile and asked to see the dessert menu. The last thing he wanted to do was to stay, but the unhelpful obstinacy within Cullen insisted. As if he would be admitting defeat if he left now.

The waiter took pity on him and reminded him that he could leave without getting a dessert. Instead of taking the lifeboat that the waiter had prepared for him, he stayed on course and never left the Titanic. With the steadiest voice he could muster, he said he was fine and asked for a menu again.

Having ordered a slice of flourless chocolate cake, he ended up staying for additional half an hour. He did not eat any of the dessert as he just watched his dinner of Bolognese cool even more and congeal into an undistinguished mass of carbohydrates and protein. He left behind plates of unfinished food along with a generous tip for the compassionate stranger who was his waiter that night.

Still gripped by the visions from that night, Cullen shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Was this some sort of a joke? Did Tharin know of Ellana? Had he mentioned her? Cullen lashed out in a sharp voice, "What on earth gave you the impression that I want to talk about that kind of stuff?"

Tharin looked unsettled at the hostile reaction, and Cullen felt his anxieties rising. The young man answered diffidently, "I'm just… curious. That's all. I'm sorry if it's something you can't talk about."

The server murmured something in a dulcet tone as she approached their table with two handleless teacups and a pot of something on a little platter. In prickly silence, Cullen watched as she laid the cups out and poured lucent brown liquid. Cullen had never encountered a drink like this in his life.

When he brought the cup to his face, he smelled grain. Like rice that had been sifted through hot water. When he sipped a little bit of the liquid, he felt a soothing warmth spread throughout his body. It tasted pleasantly bitter.

Tharin, looking more than just timid with his gaze fixated on the spot in front him, ventured, "…It's barley tea."

Feeling apologetic, Cullen laid the teacup down and ran his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself. "I… apologize for snapping. Talking about the Island Chain Strategy… isn't a typical conversation I envisioned having with my boyfriend."

Tharin sheepishly explicated, "I must not have mentioned. I'm super fascinated by stuff like that. I majored in international relations in college."

Things began to click in Cullen's head. "You said political science. I didn't know it was foreign affairs you were talking about."

"Yeah, with a focus on East Asia. I wanted to ask you earlier, like on our first date or something like that, but I wasn't sure if it was appropriate, seeing as… Well, you're still active-duty."

The new knowledge about the young man's background and interests helped. After washing away the remnants of the past memory with all his might, Cullen finally relaxed and even gave a smile. "It's a famous grand strategy. There's nothing stopping me from discussing well-known grand strategies."

Tharin had his hands gathered around the teacup, tapping its sides self-consciously. Eventually, however, the young man looked back at Cullen with keen eyes once again, "So… What are your thoughts on the Island Chain Strategy? Do you think it's pointlessly aggressive or a good defense strategy?"

Cullen hummed as he caressed the stubble on his chin. "I think it's a necessary defense strategy. In fact, the countries on the island chains could form another NATO, though I suppose the probability of that happening is extremely low. Obviously, the first island chain is the most important, but personally, I think South Korea needs to be included in the group."

"I mean, isn't it already? It's a major U.S. ally and it's got tens of thousands of American troops."

"Yes. But what really needs to happen is an entrenched tradition of political and military cooperation between South Korea and Japan, and right now that link is severed."

Tharin quickly drank from his barley tea and nodded, "Ah, yeah… There's a lot of historical animosity brewing between the two. Kind of like France and Britain, except worse, I reckon."

"Right. The two governments mistrust each other, and no wonder. But if America were to help all the countries in the region to stand against the nuclear ambitions of North Korea and maintain the balance of power, we need to have at least South Korea and Japan cooperating at the basic level."

"Agreed. I mean, they ought to be the linchpins of the first island chain." Tharin's eyes positively glimmered. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying the discussion.

Cullen felt his face heat up from excitement as he slackened the tight control over his own interests and let forth wonky jargons. "Yeah. South Korea has an army that specializes in firepower. Their military budget is bigger than Italy, which is a G7 country. Japan has a superior navy, and they just finished reconfiguring their helicopter carrier into a full-fledged aircraft carrier.

"Those two forces can complement each other and form an effective deterrent against any potential threat like North Korea, if the two countries can work toward some kind of mutual understanding."

At that moment, the server came laden with two lacquered wooden boxes, two bowls of seaweed soup, and two little dishes of pickles, interrupting their conversation about the geopolitics of the Western Pacific.

Internally tampering the euphoric giddiness about not having to downplay his interests around Tharin, Cullen opened the box to find a delectable meal. The wooden square was filled to the brim with tempura. Six prawns, prawn legs separated and deep-fried into little crispy bites, a piece of Japanese sweet potato, a cross-section of eggplant, and a little skewer of onion. There seemed to be some sort of a sauce based on soy sauce drizzled on top, and on the bottom was a bed of rice.

The prawns were no doubt the main attraction. Cullen picked one of them up and bit into it. The fritter broke with a crunch that reminded him of dry leaves crackling in his hands. With that one bite, the pungent aroma of sesame oil spread in his nostrils. It was battered for sure, but it was simply unrivaled in its lightness compared to any deep-fried fare he had ever had.

And the batter was eggy, which he liked. Not too much, just enough. The prawn was cooked thoroughly, but there was no rubbery hardness that came with overcooked protein. The batter did not separate as the entire thing melted in his mouth. And the aftertaste was the savory, sweet flavor of the tempura sauce. It was simply heavenly.

The vegetables were the same. The onion tempura was better than any onion rings he had ever had. The eggplant, which in his experience would turn to mush when cooked, maintained its original shape and texture, and crunched merrily.

Cullen was just finishing up his share of the sweet potato when Tharin picked up the soup and slurped from the bowl using chopsticks as the Japanese would. Cullen crinkled the corners of his eyes, starting a list of Japanese mannerisms Tharin had picked up. He had no doubt there would be many.

As he watched the young man hungrily scarf down another prawn tempura next, Cullen marveled at his good fortune. Not only did Tharin accept him for who he was both as an active-duty sailor and a bisexual man, he shared his interest in geopolitics.

That newfound knowledge was truly enough to loosen the unpleasant memories of failed dates and wash them away. With Tharin, he never needed to worry about coming across as uninteresting or too serious. He was just Cullen, no need to be anything more or anything less than who he already was.

After a few bites of his lunch, he put the chopsticks down and mused for a few seconds. He put the two and two together and asked, "Tell me, do you plan on pursuing a career in foreign affairs once you're done with teaching in Japan?"

Tharin put his chopsticks down as well and folded his hands together. "Yup. I'm planning on taking the Foreign Service Exam next year, to work for the State Department hopefully."

"That's really great. I'm sure you'll make an excellent diplomat," said Cullen earnestly.

The young man snorted. "Only if I manage to pass the exam. And then the interviews. And then some more interviews. And then an extensive security clearance. Anyway, I still have almost two more years here."

As Tharin gingerly picked up his teacup and drank the barley tea, Cullen peered into the other man's depthless cobalt eyes and briefly wondered whether he had a place in the young man's long-term plan.

And his meddling brain came up with an answer all by itself. The kind of answer that he did not relish. So, Cullen decided to ignore it.

For now.

END NOTE

I just posted a new one-shot titled The Commander and His Templar to celebrate the completion of roscwwap's fic, Unlikely Inquisitor (*AO3*/works/27579487)! Check it out!

Thom, Dagna, and Lace are all frens!

Next up, *dumps a ladleful of New Hampshire maple syrup* have some more sweetness.