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CHAPTER ONE

AKIKO ONO

It had been years since the gorira maguro dragged Ren Harada off his boat and into the depths, his body never recovered. All that remained of his existence was a cracked black plastic frame in the fish market, which held his fading photograph.

To most, he would always be the old man with wild tales about a mythical tuna. To me, he was Oji-chan, the funny uncle who made me laugh with his magic tricks. He never tired of pulling seashells out of my ears, even long after I was old enough to know how the trick worked.

Back then, he helped me get through some tough times—my father had disappeared when I was eleven years old.

No one, not even my mother, knew what had happened to my father. The authorities claimed he’d run off, even that he committed suicide, but I never believed that. He loved me with all his heart. Why would he leave me? Why would he leave us ? Still, with no trace of him, people eventually assumed he was dead.

Oji-chan used to say dreams were all we had. As I stood there, staring at his picture, I wondered whether that was still true.

“Akiko!”

I spun around at the sound of my name.

“I have the fish you wanted,” the fisherman called from his stall. Yuto was one of the last fishermen at the market who had watched me grow from a young girl into an adult.

My eyes widened when I saw what he was holding. “I can’t believe you caught a butterfish.” I absolutely loved this fatty fish. Its oily meat had a smooth, velvety texture that practically melted on the tongue.

“You gave me a challenge,” he declared proudly as I headed over to him.

Not only had Yuto been around when my father disappeared; he was also there when my mother passed. She hadn’t lasted much longer after my father’s disappearance. The weight of grief was too much, crushing her and leaving me to figure out life on my own.

And I did.

Now, I was a responsible adult with a job and a roof over my head. Sure, working in a restaurant had little to do with my degree, but I knew myself. Sitting in an office all day wasn’t for me.

Yuto slipped the fish into a bag for me.

“Thank you so much. It’s the perfect size.”

“What will you be making?” he asked, handing me the bag.

“Butterfish nigiri.” I was already envisioning the delicate slices atop perfectly vinegared rice.

“Good choice. This one has a fat belly, plenty of delicious meat.”

The butterfish was the last ingredient I needed for the dinner I was planning that night—a meal to celebrate the start of my new life. Little did I know, it was the beginning of my nightmare.