“It’ll be a while before you let me live this down.”
“Of course.”
I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I stood there for a moment, breathing in the familiar air. This was officially the start of the turnaround. Who’d have thought I’d be doing it with my tormentor? Maybe this was the best punishment.
I flipped on the lights. “First things first—get that off the wall.” I pointed to the message she had spray-painted the night before. “Your job is to figure it out without causing more damage. I’m on a limited budget.”
“Yes, Akiko. Leave it to me.”
“It’s Chef.”
A crease formed on her forehead. “Huh?”
“You address me as Chef whenever we’re inside the restaurant. Outside, you can call me Akiko.”
“Okay, Chef!” She gave me a salute.
I headed into my office. My priority was my suppliers. I needed them to stand by me now, or there’d be no comeback at all. I sat, took a sip of coffee, and picked up the phone, bracing for the fight.
The next hour was rough. I’d underestimated how angry they were, and being on the receiving end wasn’t fun. I wished Jiro were here making the calls. But one by one, the suppliers agreed to find a solution—delaying payment or extending credit. Not forever; most gave me six months to prove I could be solvent again. When I hung up, my shoulders sagged with relief. It wasn’t victory, but it was breathing room.
Keiko had bad news. She’d tried every cleanser in the place, even bought a solvent. Nothing worked. The wall was wallpapered, and the whole section would have to be redone. She offered to pay for it. I didn’t argue, but I didn’t thank her either.
We tackled inventory together, starting with tossing everything spoiled. I kept a running mental tally—what was usable, what I thought I needed, what I actually needed to open. No full restock, just enough for a scaled-back menu and a small omakase course.
Keiko surprised me by cooking lunch with what we had left: grilled fish, rice, pickled vegetables, and a salad. She didn’t love cooking the way her brother or I did, but she had enough skill to feed us.
Over lunch, we made small talk at first—the weather, the fish market, nothing that mattered. But the longer we sat there, the more my unanswered questions itched. I wanted answers, and Keiko was sitting right in front of me.
“Kaiyo wanted his own restaurant,” she blurted out, as if reading my mind. “That had been his dream since we were kids. Either a place that served tonkotsu ramen or a sushi bar—but not fine dining like yours. He even thought about a simple izakaya. He loved snacking while drinking beer.”
“Then why the apprenticeship program? Especially Chef Sakamoto’s? It was geared for one thing only: producing Michelin-starred chefs.”
“Because no matter what he did, even if it was casual dining, he wanted to do it well.”
“Did you ever think of joining him?”
“We talked about it. I probably would have helped, but it would’ve been his place to run.”
We ate in silence for a moment before she cleared her throat. “Chef, I peeked into your office earlier, when you were on the phone. It didn’t sound good. Will you be able to continue?”
Hearing that she’d been watching me made my skin prickle. I forced my voice to remain even. “It’s not good, but all my suppliers have agreed to work with me. Basically, I have six months to turn this place around. That’s generous when they’re the ones taking the risk.”
“Six months isn’t long.”
“It is when you’re the one extending the credit. They’re not doubting my ability; they know how hard it is to rebuild momentum. Honestly, I’m pleased. Jiro usually handled that side of the business.”
Keiko swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault he’s not here, isn’t it?”
Part of me wanted to say yes. But another part wondered. Was his disappearance tied to his past, or was it just him bailing when things got hard? Miki wasn’t wrong. Jiro had a pattern of walking when pressure built. Was this any different?
“We have bigger problems than figuring that out right now.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine. Truth is, he might have left because he didn’t want to be in the relationship anymore.”
“Do you really believe that? From what little I know, you loved the guy.”
