Walking out of the subway underneath Tokyo, I can't help but notice all the bustling activity and signs that glow with neon colors with traffic stirring up the cold winter air. People walk by with hurried steps or with those of lounging ones, everyone different, while the three of us, James, Azrael, and I, are with steps of wonder and awe, taking in the largest city on earth.
Walking out of Shinjuku station, it's on our agenda to go eat some ramen with a friend of Azrael's. I think I caught the name as Kouta. Similar in pronunciation to Kota, but a little different. Azrael also said there's a U in the spelling after the O, so it makes sense.
Azrael today is dressed in more relaxed clothing than his usual business suit. He wears a dark grey long-sleeve shirt, and on top of that a sweater of similar shade. On top of that and his dark brown pants is a navy-blue coat and seemingly just to be cute, or I think it is, a beanie with the puff on it. It's a dark red, more of wine or barberry.
I have on similar clothes of different colors, without the beanie, while James has on a collared shirt with a pea-coat with a V-neck sweater.
"It's much more busier here than in Hakone," I say to Azrael with as smile as we walk along the direction he leads us.
"True," says Azrael, "but, it can't be helped. It's a bustling metropolis."
"I can't wait to try ramen," says James excitedly, "I've heard so much about it."
"Me too," I say, "or at least, from the internet."
"You should be careful though," says Azrael, "from my experience, some ramen is very...abundant in oil, so sometimes I have trouble eating it."
"I'll make sure to be careful," I say with a chuckle, "though the way you say it, it's almost as if ramen is dangerous."
"Dangerously delicious," says Azrael with a smile.
"Can't wait," I say again.
"Well," says Azrael as he turns a little and heads to a building that, "perhaps you won't have to much, as we're here."
Going inside, Azrael flaunts his Japanese skills, and talks to the waiter and greeting him. I think he says that he's expected by somebody, and the waiter nods in recollection, and gestures to a part of the restaurant which Azrael says something and then walks to.
Walking along the counter that is the seating of the restaurant, Azrael walks toward a broad and heavy-set Asian man. He has burly arms and in the long-sleeve shirt he has on that is rolled up near his elbows, his short spiky black hair sticks out over his forehead, and his skin seems tanned.
Hearing footsteps, he turns, and upon spotting Azrael he smiles.
"Hey," says the man, Kouta, in English, "took you long enough."
"Sorry," says Azrael, "I walked as fast as I could."
"Brought some friends?" he asks as he nods to James and I with a smile.
"Sure did," says Azrael as he sits down, and I sit on the other side of Azrael with James sitting next to Kouta.
"I'm James," introduces himself to Kouta.
"Kouta," replies Kouta with a smile, "what's your name?"
"Hogarth," I say as I shake his hand.
"Nice to meet you two, and I recall you're the assistant of Azrael's?" asks Kouta.
He has a slight accent, but it's nothing to note or remember. And he has a partially flat nose, but it's not homely and he looks good. I still like Azrael better though.
"That I am," I say with a smile.
"You've done a great job," says Kouta as he sets one of his heavy arms on Azrael's shoulder, "he looks better than I've seen him ever, and that's saying something."
"I'm glad I could help," I say with a smile.
"Kouta, your arm is heavy," says Azrael.
"Oh, sorry," says Kouta, "gotta work out so I can snag a cute boy like you, you know."
"Hmm," hums Azrael, "no such luck yet?"
"Nope," says Kouta a little sadly, "but, I'm still hopeful."
"Kouta plays rugby," explains Azrael, "and that's why he's like a bear."
"I like to think of myself as a panda," says Kouta.
"You like boys?" asks James with a grin.
"I do," says Kouta, "can't get enough of them."
"Godspeed," says James.
"Speaking of," says Kouta as he turns back to Azrael, "I didn't know what exactly it is that you would want to eat, so I refrained from ordering anything for you. I ordered though."
"That's no issue," says Azrael, "we can just order now. And I'm guessing you just finished rugby practice, so wanted to eat?"
"Correct," says Kouta, "I'm not one to be happy being hungry."
"Me neither," I say with a chuckle.
"I'll help Hogarth with the menu," says Azrael as he takes one sitting on top of the counter near a box of disposable chopsticks, "could you help out James?"
"Sure thing," says Kouta, and he and James start to go over the menu which is written in Japanese.
"Which one do you recommend?" I ask as I begin to look at the menu with intricate Japanese writing.
"I like the salt-broth ramen," says Azrael, "with pork and bamboo bits in it. But, I know people who also like the soy-sauce broth, as well as chicken broth, shark-fin broth, and even shrimp broth."
"That's quite a variety," I say with a laugh, which Azrael matches.
"It is, and there's so little opportunity to try them all," notes Azrael wistfully.
"You know what?" I say as I grin at Azrael, "I'll just get what you get. It sounds delicious."
"Are you sure?" asks Azrael a little surprised.
"Yes," I say, "I'm sure it tastes wonderful."
"Then I'll order two of my favorites," says Azrael.
Turning to a waiter behind the counter, he speaks in Japanese to order food, and I know my eyes are on him as he talks. The waiter smiles and jots it down, and also takes the order of James that Kouta tells him.
"What's rugby like?" I ask Kouta, not exactly sure about anything regarding that sport.
"It's very intense, I'd say," talks Kouta, "you have to exercise quite a bit, and not just weightlifting, but running as well."
"I'd say that because he can run, that Azrael could to it," I say with a smile.
"Actually," says Kouta, "he tried once. But perhaps being too kind, he gave the ball to the other people."
"You did?" I ask as I laugh.
"Yes," admits Azrael with a nod, "I did. My team was not happy to say the least."
"I was on his team, but I was laughing," says Kouta, "I think I almost asked you out to a date that day, but knowing you, I didn't."
"Oh, well," says Azrael as he blushes and looks away from everyone, "I...I don't think any relationship would've ended up well."
"I'd not say that, but if you think so," says Kouta with a chuckle.
"Your English," says James as he gets Kouta's attention, "is rather good. It's more natural than mine. I'm impressed."
"I had a good teacher," says Kouta with a grin, "I got Azrael's help when we were in university. We were in the foreign exchange program, and I was actually his study-buddy."
"I can imagine Azrael being a good teacher," I admit.
"Why's that?" asks Kouta with a smile.
"Well, he right now tutors a fourth-grade student. When he has time," I say.
"Sounds like something he'd do," says Kouta with a laugh.
"Oh, is that ours?" asks James as a waiter brings over four large bowls of ramen, and begins to set it in front of each of us.
"It would seem so," says Kouta with an excited grin.
Two similar ones sit in front of Azrael and I, and it smells heavenly. The soup that some noodles sit in is a warm brown color, with a bit of oil on the surface of it, which has my stomach growling. Also, like a flower, are cuts of pork on the top of the noodles with green onion and long rectangle cuts of boiled bamboo shoot.
Taking two pairs of chopsticks, Azrael hands one to me while he snaps open the other. Saying thanks, I start to eat, as I've had more practice since the first night I arrived in Hakone, and can somewhat eat not. And there's also a spoon with the ramen bowl, so I don't have that much trouble.
"Oh, by the way," says Azrael as he has just about raised some noodles out of his bowl, "it's okay to slurp, and in reality you're supposed to in order to enjoy ramen."
"Got it," I say.
Azrael nods, before starting to eat, not slurping too much, but he does. I do too, and it's then I realize that other customers were slurping up until now. I didn't really notice, but if I can, then who am I to complain about slurping. From all I can tell, this helps with heightening the flavor.
"This is amazing," I say as I slurp up more noodles.
The broth itself has some salt but is not just sharp but full as well. The noodles itself when I bite into them has some texture, different from that of pasta, but more uneven. Not in a bad way, and gives the entire experience of eating a new and fun excitement. Not to mention that the pork pieces are soft and bursting with flavor, and the bamboo bits are slightly crunchy too.
"It's too bad we can't get this in D.C.," says Azrael as he nods, "it's been so long since I ate this, and I love it."
"You ought to live in Japan," says Kouta, "then you can eat this, but also hang out with me."
I get the impression that Kouta has had a running attempt at wooing Azrael, and that makes something with a roar sound in my chest with a desire to seize Azrael by his hand and pull him to me.
"I'd love to," says Azrael, and I for a moment tense, "but, I think my place is not here."
"If you say so," says Kouta, "but, I might stop by D.C., and perhaps find a way to live there. It sounds like a lively place."
"It is," says James, "but I like Paris too."
"I've never been," says Kouta.
"It's amazing," says James, "there's so much culture. Don't get me wrong, Tokyo does too, but there's a different abundance in Paris."
"If I ever go, I'll invite you to show me around," says Kouta.
"It'd be my pleasure to show you around," says James with a grin.
"But still," says Kouta as he turns back to Azrael, "living without access to ramen sounds painful."
"It is, and it isn't," says Azrael, "there are other things of living in D.C. that are alluring."
"Like what?" asks Kouta curiously.
"The Smithsonian," says Azrael, "it's always nice to stop by there."
"I've never been, but perhaps that'll change," says Kouta hopefully.
Finishing up the ramen, which does fill me up nicely, I lean back a little in bliss. It really is amazing, and once we leave Japan I think I'll miss it.
Azrael finishes eating last, and once he's done we pay up before going outside. It's gotten later in the evening, as we came here after sunset. Looking at my watch, I see that it's around eight. Not too late, but still getting there.
"What are your plans for the rest of your stay here in Japan?" asks Kouta as we linger around a side street near a vending machine where we buy some drinks, noticing the affects of the salt.
"We have another day before we head back," says Azrael, "tomorrow will probably be spent going around Tokyo and shopping. Just trying to relax, as that's one of the main points of this entire trip."
"I'd join you three, but I'm afraid I have work tomorrow," says Kouta wistfully.
Now that he's not sitting, I see that he's somewhere between the height of me and James, but is just as buff, maybe more, than myself. Though with a coat on everyone can look as so.
"What's you occupation?" I ask curiously.
"I'm a teacher at a university," says Kouta, "which also lets me work-out in the gym there, getting these."
He roughly slaps his arm as he flexes it and also grins. Azrael though doesn't seem that much disturbed by that action, which makes me happy a little.
"I'd say you'll find somebody that'll love you," says Azrael kindly, then smiles, "I've known you or a few years, and I can say you're a good person. There's no question you'll find somebody."
"I hope so," says Kouta, and I realize now he's not trying to snag Azrael, or has gracefully quitted that pursuit, "it's sad being lonely, and getting to thirty without anybody scares me."
"You'll find somebody," says Azrael with a chuckle, "and you're only twenty-five. Don't get too scared."
"If you say so."
We talk for a little longer more, before I guess all of us know that it's perhaps time to head back to where we sleep. Kouta gives James and I a handshake, while to Azrael he gives a hug.
"Take care of yourself, Azrael," says Kouta, "you only live once."
"Perhaps," says Azrael with a smile, "but maybe there's somewhere we go after we die."
"Even if there is, that's not to say that the present is nothing," says Kouta with a chuckle.
"I suppose so," says Azrael, "I promise to invite you to D.C.. Even Alaska if you desire."
"I'll keep that in mind," says Kouta.
Saying a farewell, Kouta leaves and we go back. But for some reason my eyes linger on the back of Kouta as he goes home. For why, I don't know.