Where have you been all my life?

Such was the Commander's wonder as the broth passed his lips and went all the way down his throat. It was warm and rich and so thoroughly savory—enough that the aftertaste would envelop his tongue and cling to it. There was no meat in the soup, but it felt as if he had just one. Who'd have thought that such a simple, unassuming dish would pack that much of a punch yet still manage to be oddly comforting after that, especially in the early hours?

"I'm glad you like it, Commander," Nagara lit up and breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed the Commander didn't spit the soup out. She had been worried that as an American, who probably isn't accustomed to such strong flavor, the Commander would find it repulsive—even though he did say he wanted to try Japanese food for a change, and she was more than happy to oblige.

Her miso soup apparently had left a pleasant impression on him, and that was important. Perhaps with this, she could get him to be interested in broadening his palate further, then...

She giggled and shook her head before the thoughts could stray into her usual daydreams. Now's not the time to be seen too giddy.

"Yeah. It's very salty...but for some reason, I feel really satisfied. What's the name again?"

"Oh, it's called miso soup. Miso is the paste we Japanese use to make it."

"Ah...I see," the Commander nodded. "The taste is peculiar at first, but I could get used to it. What's it called...umami, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is, Commander."

"I think I'm starting to like it. Think you can make me miso soup again? Like, every day?"

"Um...well, sure...I could."

Seeing how Nagara became flushed and restless for some reason, the Commander wondered if he said something wrong or troubling even though he was convinced that it was just an innocuous request. But before he could ask, she had excused herself, laughing nervously as she did.