27 Fingding a regular sushi place
That first shoot ended, I packed my gear and left—
but something stayed with me.
So I went back.
This time, not as a photographer.
Just as a customer, sitting quietly at the counter.
I ordered a drink, watched him move, and asked small questions.
He answered every one of them with a kind of gentle precision.
I was just one guest among many,
yet Mr. O never made me feel like I was bothering him.
He seemed genuinely happy to talk about his craft across the counter:
the way he cooked rice, the timing of service, the balance of a course.
That’s when I realized one of the true joys of having a regular sushi place:
It’s not just about eating good sushi.
It’s about building a relationship with the person who makes it—
a slow, steady conversation that continues every time you sit down in front of them.
He told me about his life as a sushi chef,
how long he had worked,
how the industry had changed,
and what it was like to stand behind a CEO-owned counter every night.
For me, that counter in Aoyama became exactly that kind of place.
A little refuge where I could eat, watch, ask, and learn.