Taro’s mouth watered. Until today, he had not even thought about how much he missed his home kitchen. At the beginning, it had been difficult for him to start the day with fruit muesli and milk instead of rice, fish and miso soup, but after only two weeks his digestion had calmed down, making him question whether he had never eaten anything else for breakfast. But now that the pork bone broth was ready and John was topping the ramen noodles like a pro in a big bowl with pork, an egg cut in half, nori leaves, and bonito flakes, Taro was getting tremendously hungry and even more tremendously homesick. 

“And it wasn’t too difficult to get these ingredients? If it was too expensive, I’ll share the cost!” He apologized, and happily realized that John had even thought of chopsticks.

John waved it off. “The world is a huge place, and there’s a lot to explore.” He smiled contentedly. “With you, I now have a knowledgeable expert on Japanese cuisine. I’d be pretty stupid not to take advantage of that.” 

The ramen bowl was filled almost to the brim with boiling hot broth. While Taro rocked back and forth in his chair with excitement, John balanced the bowl in one hand from the sideboard to the table. His fingertips began to ache with heat, but he didn’t let on.

“Ramen, ramen, ra-,ra-,ramen!” Taro sang gleefully, breaking apart the wooden chopsticks. But as he saw how uneven it broke into two, his mood changed abruptly. “Oh,” he said sorrowfully. “That means bad luck.”

“Bad luck?” John raised an eyebrow wondering. It was still three steps to the table. The pain in his fingers was becoming unbearable.

“Yes,” Taro explained. “If the chopsticks don’t break right in the middle, it’s a bad sign. A very bad sign!”

John shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know what you mean. That’s just …”, he caught his bath slippers and stumbled, “wo… wo…”

“Woat?” Asked Taro.

“Wooooood!” John completed his sentence as he elegantly slid forward like a ballerina. The bowl slipped from his hand. Hot, milky white broth poured out like poetry in the air. The half egg pirouetted while the ramen noodles prepared to give Taro a blonde wig.

SPLASH!

Taro jumped up, startled. “Ew!” Chair and bowl fell to the floor. He snorted, wiped his glasses, and tasted the salty drops on his lips. Wow! It was so good he instantly wanted more. Too bad he had it all on his belly now instead of in it.

“Is everything okay?” John slithered across the nori leaves and performed an elegant turn. “I’m terribly sorry!” He scurried into the kitchen, retrieved a towel, and began picking the noodles off Taro, who was still standing in shock amid the chaos. “Geez, Taro, you’re all wet!” He tugged at his sweater. “Maybe you should take off your clothes.” He retrieved a second towel and now began to wipe off Taro’s pants as well. “I’ve got you all over here, too! Best you take it all off right now and we’ll throw it in the wash! Sorry, really! No offense!”

Taro awoke from his stupor. 

John took off his glasses, removed his sweater and helped him pull down his pants. “Oh no!” He exclaimed in clearly exaggerated surprise. “Even your underpants are soaking wet! They’ll have to be washed too, of course!” He reached for Taro’s waistband as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“John?” Taro clasped his wrist.

“Yes?” John paused and raised an eyebrow. Taro’s grip was surprisingly strong.

“Don’t do that, please.” His gaze was also surprisingly serious.

John felt unsettled. “Okay?” He took a step back and surveyed Taro amid the chaos. He’d put in so much effort and still hadn’t managed to win the elephant bet. “Crap!”

Taro picked up his clothes. He felt a chill. “Excuse me?”

John waved it off. “Nothing! Oh, it’s nothing!” Taro had almost caught him. “There’s a fresh tracksuit of mine in the locker room. You’re welcome to put that on so you don’t have to walk naked to your room.”

Taro sighed in relief. “Thank you!” 

John’s looks made him uncomfortable. As he entered the locker room and took another quick look around, he could see John pouting and kneading the dishtowel. Strange. Very strange indeed. He closed the door and took a deep breath. His stomach growled. His underpants were wet and uncomfortably cold, yet they smelled so deliciously of broth that he would have loved to eat them. He had to pull himself together and focus on what was important, so he took them off and ran to the linen rack. 

John was right. Next to the sauna towels was a yellow tracksuit like the ones John wore once in a while. Taro lifted it up and examined it critically. It was freshly washed, smelled very neat, and laid down in such a way that it could not be overlooked. The trousers were far too long, so he had to turn the legs over several times to avoid stepping on the hem. The waistband was also way too wide, but luckily it could be tightened. 

When he finally put on the matching training jacket, he realized how much taller and more muscular John was built, because it hung down to the back of his knees. 

He shrugged his shoulders and rolled up his sleeves as well. John may have had quite a bit more in the way of height, but he couldn’t fit into the smallest possible empty seat on the Metro for that. “If we were both cars, I’d use less gas and fit in the smaller parking spaces. Small and efficient! And that’s a good thing!”