26- Meeting Mr. O – and Coming Back Alone
At that time, my life was split in two.
On weekdays, I was still racing around Tokyo as a food photographer,
shooting for restaurants that were trying to survive the pandemic era.
On Saturdays, I was a student again—
standing at the cutting board at Tokyo Sushi Academy,
learning how to hold a knife, slice fish, and shape rice.
One day, I received a photography assignment at a new sushi restaurant in Aoyama.
It was exactly the kind of place I just described:
a small, stylish sushi bar opened by a successful CEO,
with a single counter and a quiet, focused atmosphere.
When I walked in with my camera bag,
I noticed the chef behind the counter immediately.
He had the calm presence of someone who had repeated the same movements
thousands and thousands of times.
No wasted motion.
No unnecessary words.
This was Mr. O.
While I set up my lights and tested angles,
I watched him work—
the way he lifted the lid of the rice tub,
the way he loosened the shari with a shamoji,
the way he checked the shine of the fish with a quick, practiced glance.
Tokyo Sushi Academy had given me a strong foundation.
But watching Mr. O was like seeing the “real world version” of everything I was learning.
Between shots, we started to talk.
At first, it was simple:
“How would you like me to arrange the nigiri?”
“Could you slice this a little thinner for the photo?”
But slowly, the conversation went deeper.
