“About us…” he started.
“Jiro, I’m sorry, but right now, my focus is on myself and my recovery. I hope you can understand that.”
“I do. You probably think none of this bothers me, but it does. I’m not immune to it.”
We talked a little more about how we felt and how we were coping. Jiro was making better progress, though much of it was due to his overbearing father riding his ass, as he put it. As far as his father was concerned, Jiro had had more than enough time to get over it. It was time to move on.
At some point, the conversation stalled, hovering in the space between what we had been and what we were now. We had to address what happened between us. I thought about the night we spent together—the heat of it, the intensity. It hadn’t been a mistake, but it also hadn’t changed anything.
Jiro must’ve been thinking the same thing because he let out a slow breath and said, “I know I messed up. But that night we were together… It wasn’t a lie. For me it was real. It meant a lot…to be with you again, like that.”
I nodded, acknowledging the truth in that, even if I wasn’t ready to give him more. “I need time right now. Small steps, okay?”
He smiled at me. “Of course.”
“Miki has been a blessing,” I said, wanting to change the subject. “She hasn’t left my side at all.”
“I know. I practically talked to her every day. Never ever saw that coming, with our history.”
I chuckled. “I’ve heard.”
I told Jiro how the charred remains of the Sakamoto compound haunted my dreams every night, making it hard to move on. “It’s like the events of that night play over and over in my mind. No matter how hard I try to bury it, I can’t shake the memory.”
“I have nightmares too. But I have to believe it’ll get better. Time heals all, right?”
It was cathartic to talk about this with him—he understood. No explanation was needed. He’d lived through the same thing. Before he left, I agreed to keep talking over the phone; it would help us both.
That conversation marked the start of my true recovery. Day by day, things improved. I ventured out with Miki for walks, shopped at the markets, and even began to smile and laugh regularly. But the one thing I still couldn’t bring myself to do was cook. The kitchen triggered something inside me. It was my last block to overcome.
But one morning I woke up and made a decision: Enough was enough. I couldn’t keep moping around in self-pity. I needed to reclaim who I was—the Akiko who was vibrant, determined, and destined to become the greatest sushi chef.
And it began with a step back into the kitchen.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
ONE YEAR LATER…
The soft hum of voices filled the air, mingling with the gentle clinking of glasses and the sizzle of fresh fish on the grill. The restaurant wasn’t big, just ten tables and a small sushi bar, but it was mine. Ono Omakase had become my pride and joy, a dream I had almost abandoned.
With the help of my best friend, Miki, I pulled myself together and got back on my feet. She was my biggest cheerleader, hyping me daily and encouraging me to become the chef she knew I could be. “You are destined to own a Michelin-starred restaurant,” she would always say, followed by, “And I hate my job. So, for the love of God, save us both with your incredible cooking!”
I didn’t have a Michelin-starred restaurant yet, but the early reviews from the critics were favorable. Positive word of mouth spread, causing my reservation list to grow longer and further out. Opening the restaurant was the hardest thing I’d done, both emotionally and financially, but it had also been the most rewarding. I couldn’t have been happier, even if I was in debt up to my eyeballs.
Through the kitchen window, I watched Miki, now my maître d’, gracefully greet guests as they arrived. She had been my rock from the early stages of planning to opening night. Seeing her flash one of her dazzling smiles at a guest made my chest swell with gratitude.
Of course, none of this would have been possible without Jiro. Yes,Jiro.
Our phone calls had turned into visits, visits into dates, and dates into a relationship. He’d come back into my life because I realized I wanted him back. And I’m glad I did. Our relationship quickly grew into a loving partnership, though the beginning was anything but smooth sailing—mostly for him.
When Jiro’s father learned that his entire reason for entering Chef Sakamoto’s apprenticeship program was to win me back, he was furious. But Jiro’s decision to abandon politics truly pushed him over the edge. Instead, Jiro told his father, he was opening a restaurant—with me.
That was the final straw. His father issued an ultimatum: Give up his “foolish dream” or be disowned.
Jiro chose me. He walked away from his inheritance, his trust fund, and his family.
“They bring no value or joy to my life,” Jiro told me. “My father wants me to be just like him, but that’s the last thing I want. You’ve shown me I can be better. I don’t have to follow their path. And if cutting them and their money out of my life is what it takes, I’m okay with it. I’m happier and more than willing to start over with you. My life will be richer than it could be with their money.”
And just like that, he left it all behind.
