“It had everything to do with me. I’m the reason you walked away from joining your father in politics. From your trust fund. From everything.”
“It was still my decision. No one held a gun to my head.”
“Okay, but it’s hard not to feel like I played a role.”
“Well, you did,” he said, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “But I wanted to be with you. I knew the consequences. So, no self-blaming.”
“Is it even safe? His last words to you were that you were dead to him. That you were never to show your face again.”
“Yeah, there’s that part,” Jiro said with a shrug. “But I’m not afraid of him.”
“You should be. If he’s as powerful as you say.”
Jiro reached for my hand and held it. “Look, this isn’t your burden. I’ll go to him. I’ll ask for help. He’ll either say yes… or tell me to fuck off. If it’s the second option, fine. I walk away. But I have to try.”
I stared at him. “You said it yourself. He doesn’t shake hands, he makes deals. He’ll see you as leverage. Or a nuisance.”
“Maybe.”
“You said he was dangerous.”
“He is.”
“Then why are you willing to risk it?”
“Because he’s our best shot at getting real help.”
“And if he really does tell you to fuck off?”
Jiro kissed me on the forehead, then pressed his hand against my face, thumb brushing just beneath my eye.
“Then we hope Reina really is dead.”
5
I always closed Ono Omakase on Mondays. It was the one day Jiro, Miki, and I all took off together. The rest of the staff rotated their extra day, but Monday was ours, earned after six straight nights of grinding.
The restaurant was mine. But I’d given both Jiro and Miki a small partnership—five percent each. Not just a gesture. I wanted them to feel like they were building something with me, not just clocking in.
We had our roles down to muscle memory. Miki ruled the front—guest relations, servers, charm turned all the way up. Jiro handled operations—inventory, invoices, making sure the whole machine ran like it should. And me? I lived behind the sushi counter, hands deep in fish, knives, and omakase dreams.
This morning, Jiro was heading to see his father. Since his parents lived outside Kyoto, he could be gone most of the day.
At the door, he kissed me, lingering just a second.
“You’ll be okay without me for a day, right?”
“I’m not the one walking into a dragon’s den.”
“Fair.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Then he pressed his forehead to mine, just briefly, before turning and walking out.
As soon as I closed the door, I picked up my phone and invited Miki over to hang out. I felt bad about how I’d been acting. My mood swings were impossible, and I needed to make it up to her. I told her I was fixing brunch, her favorites: eggs Benedict, crispy bacon, and chocolate-banana flapjacks.
Before I knew it, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and found my best friend holding up a bottle of champagne and a gallon of orange juice.
“Did someone order mimosas?” she sang out.
“Oh my God, you got here so freaking fast.”
