Hi everyone! As promised, here's a little preview of Sakura and Kaz's story.  If you liked it, I hope  give the full entry a read. I'll include the link to the story in the comments. Thank you! 😊

YOU'D BE SURPRISED how little Japanese and dismal efforts from a translator app could take you exactly where you needed to be.

For me, it was the Higashinaruse Village. Population: 2,363. Restaurants: One. Restaurants open when I arrived: Zero.

My stomach grumbled as I wandered the streets looking for a convenience store, vending machine, street food seller—anything. But there were none in sight. The residential area stretched throughout the village, where it seemed like everyone was still asleep. The only sound other than my grumbling stomach came from this shaking door to my left that seemed like it was about to burst op—

Welp, there's no seem about that. A figure stumbled out of the door with force.

"Daijoubu desu ka?" I exclaimed as I knelt beside it with outstretched hands. It turned out to be a male figure who looked to be my age.

"Daijoubu," he said with a groan. Then, "Something-something-ramen-something-daijoubu desu ka?"

Too much Japanese, too fast. The only that transcended the language barrier was his obvious worry over me. He was the one who just fell backward onto concrete after crashing into a sturdy door. I should be worried about him. Not the other way around.

Actually, why are we worrying about each other at all?

I spied the concrete scratch on the side of his hand to his arm. I knew I had a first aid kit somewhere, but, again, why was he my concern?

First things first, I was pretty sure I heard him say ramen. It could just be an auditory hallucination due to hunger, but still. I had to ask. I took out my phone and opened the translator app.

"Ah. You're a tourist. I was saying," he leaned over to peek at my phone and read what I typed, "something about ramen. That's right." He chuckled. "Hungry?"

"Starving. If you could point me to—"

"Follow me."

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to intrude on your morning."

"Nonsense. I'm headed there already. Let me take you as a thank you for helping me up."

What's he talking about? He'd gotten himself up while I was distracted by the mention of ramen. Plus, he was helping me up right now. With a smile on his face.

Wow. Dimples. It looked good on him.

My stomach grumbled as I tried to decline again. He chuckled and urged me to follow him by grabbing the handle of my carry-on luggage. I should've insisted on rolling it myself. But, hunger. Fatigue. Devil-may-care.

At least when they find me, people would know I didn't simply follow a stranger for his dimples and baritone voice. They'd know that my stomach begged me to do it.

He stopped in front of a ramen shop on the corner of a building. It didn't look abandoned. Score!

"My best friend owns and runs the place," he explained while unlocking the padlocks. "I help him sometimes when he needs a day off. Come on in."

The signage wrapped around two sides of a building with the entrance on the corner, giving the illusion of a large trapezoid space area inside. But there was only space for one table seating three on my left, a low bar for four on my right, and a bar setting for five in front of a glass-covered kitchen.

"Give me a few minutes. Is curry rice okay?"

"Yes, anything. Thank you."

Note to self: try not to sound desperate next time. IF there's a next time. This one could put arsenic in the curry rice, and there'd be no more next time for you, reckless one.