Chapter 9

Caleb loved the city of Tokyo. More than that, he loved the country of Japan. They possessed such a vibrant culture, at once so colorful and abstract, yet at the same time, possessing a depth of unity and understanding he could never find back home in the US. Not to this extent anyway. And there were so many things about his new home, the district where his school resided, that he loved in particular.

Such as this wonderful market located only a few blocks from his apartment complex. Ever since moving into the new penthouse apartment alongside his mother, Caleb had been coming to this small, locally owned store for all his produce and ingredient needs. The owner, a delightful elderly man by the name of Sojiro, never failed to put a smile on Caleb's face whenever he would walk in. Nor, for that matter, did his lovely granddaughter, who always seemed to be smiling at him whenever he showed up.

"Working on a new recipe, Barlow-kun?" Sojiro asked brightly.

Caleb smiled at his granddaughter, who turned away and blushed, before nodding curtly to the elderly man. "Yes, Sojiro-san. Tonight, I'll be trying something a bit more obscure. Liver and wakegi scallions over a bed of rice."

The elderly Sojiro's eyes lit up, and he nodded in approval. "Oh, yes. Very good, very good." He raised a finger in the air. "However, with that particular dish, I will say you need a very fresh chicken liver to do it justice."

He nodded in understanding. "Of course, Sojiro-san."

"And..." he added before leaving the counter to go find something on one of the shelves. "...you need a proper sesame oil." He came back with a bottle covered in Japanese writing. "Take this, compliments of the store for all the business you've given us."

Caleb took the sesame oil gratefully and bowed with full respect. "You have my eternal gratitude, Sojiro-sensei. I promise to do my very best in preparing this dish."

"Think nothing of it, young man. It does my old heart good to see the young showing such willful commitment towards the art of cooking. I'm sure you'll do just fine in your next culinary endeavor."

He paid for his ingredients, insisting Sojiro let him honor an American tradition by keeping the change. There were moments he was genuinely concerned he might have inadvertently insulted his gracious supplier of fresh produce by indulging in this habit. But Sojiro never seemed to mind. If anything, he understood that Caleb's constant refusal to accept change was just his way of showing a modicum of gratitude for his council in matters pertaining to Japanese food and his good company.

As always, Sojiro's granddaughter would smile and wave after he paid for his groceries. He would happily do the same, turning her cheeks scarlet yet again. It was clear, even to Caleb, that she'd developed something of a crush on him. And more than once, Sojiro had offhandedly joked that his granddaughter was single. Though flattered, seeing as she was quite pretty, Caleb never had any interest in that sort of thing. As it was, he took the elderly store owner's constant attempts to push his granddaughter on him in stride.

The old man meant well enough. Girls were just the last thing on his mind right now.

With his goods in hand, Caleb left, walking once more on the streets of the city he'd come to love over these past four years. Whether or not he ever decided to return to the US for any reason beyond his unfinished business, Caleb would remember these years fondly. He was sure of it.

That's not to say there was nothing about his host country he didn't find irksome. Smoking appeared to still be quite pervasive in Japan, something he found baffling considering how health conscious they seemed to otherwise be, at least to outsiders like him. In addition, the clear gender inequality and Tokyo's disturbingly low age of consent left a rather bad taste in the mouth at times. But he knew better than to go near that particular subject. Even if he did have his own thoughts on the matter, this was a part of Japan's culture, and he would respect that.

Still, it couldn't be overstated how isolating that culture felt at times. Though Caleb did possess some form of Japanese ancestry on his mother's side, it wasn't nearly enough for him to ever feel comfortable claiming the culture as his own. His mother was still predominantly Romanian, while his father came from a long line of Russians before moving to the states. Though he wore both his parents' genes remarkably well, it didn't take away from the fact he was still a gaijin in the grand scheme of things.

And with that label came its many small annoyances. From people pulling their kids away from him to irritating compliments every time he picked up a pair of chopsticks. As well as more stressful cultural norms such as random strangers soliciting free English lessons, there were days he genuinely wanted to just stay home, away from the stares. These feelings usually faded and recycled over time, and he did his utmost not to be a disruption in his host country, taking it all in stride as best he could.

"Excuse me. Could we possibly get a picture with you?"

Caleb smiled politely at the group of teenage girls walking up to him, though internally, he was already groaning. These three were clearly gaijin hunters, looking to update their social media pages with pictures of themselves next to a particularly attractive foreigner. Maybe he looked like some sort of celebrity he didn't know about. Caleb didn't particularly care one way or another. And if standing for an awkward photo was what got him home at a more expedient rate, then so be it. He may not have approved, but they at least asked first, showed gratitude after the fact, and even complimented his choice of haircut, so he certainly wasn't going to make it an issue.

All of these were small nitpicks in the grand scheme of things. The fact was, he genuinely enjoyed being amongst these streets. Taking in the city of Tokyo's vibrant culture. As bustling a metropolis as the greater Tokyo Metropolitan area was, the city possessed a form of balance and harmony he couldn't find back home. That, and most of its inhabitants' passive and insular nature, did wonders for his emotional state.

Being surrounded by people who, selfie enthusiasts notwithstanding, were content to leave you alone for the most part, really helped to keep his furious bloodlust in check.

But of course, no society was perfect. And in every culture, no matter how well-meaning or self-aware, there always seemed to be that one...random...idiot...who would come along and try to ruin everything, setting him off in the process.