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CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

ONE YEAR LATER…

The soft hum of voices filled the air, mingling with the gentle clinking of glasses and the sizzle of fresh fish on the grill. The restaurant wasn’t big, just ten tables and a small sushi bar, but it was mine. Ono Omakase had become my pride and joy, a dream I had almost abandoned.

With the help of my best friend, Miki, I pulled myself together and got back on my feet. She was my biggest cheerleader, hyping me daily and encouraging me to become the chef she knew I could be. “You are destined to own a Michelin-starred restaurant,” she would always say, followed by, “And I hate my job. So, for the love of God, save us both with your incredible cooking!”

I didn’t have a Michelin-starred restaurant yet, but the early reviews from the critics were favorable. Positive word of mouth spread, causing my reservation list to grow longer and further out. Opening the restaurant was the hardest thing I’d done, both emotionally and financially, but it had also been the most rewarding. I couldn’t have been happier, even if I was in debt up to my eyeballs.

Through the kitchen window, I watched Miki, now my ma?tre d’, gracefully greet guests as they arrived. She had been my rock from the early stages of planning to opening night. Seeing her flash one of her dazzling smiles at a guest made my chest swell with gratitude.

Of course, none of this would have been possible without Jiro. Yes, Jiro .

Our phone calls had turned into visits, visits into dates, and dates into a relationship. He’d come back into my life because I realized I wanted him back. And I’m glad I did. Our relationship quickly grew into a loving partnership, though the beginning was anything but smooth sailing—mostly for him.

When Jiro’s father learned that his entire reason for entering Chef Sakamoto’s apprenticeship program was to win me back, he was furious. But Jiro’s decision to abandon politics truly pushed him over the edge. Instead, Jiro told his father, he was opening a restaurant—with me.

That was the final straw. His father issued an ultimatum: Give up his “foolish dream” or be disowned.

Jiro chose me. He walked away from his inheritance, his trust fund, and his family.

“They bring no value or joy to my life,” Jiro told me. “My father wants me to be just like him, but that’s the last thing I want. You’ve shown me I can be better. I don’t have to follow their path. And if cutting them and their money out of my life is what it takes, I’m okay with it. I’m happier and more than willing to start over with you. My life will be richer than it could be with their money.”

And just like that, he left it all behind.

“We’ll live in a tiny apartment together for as long as it takes,” he said, “even if that ends up being forever.”

At the sushi bar, Jiro was in his element. He wasn’t a chef—not yet, anyway. But he had become a master of charm. He chatted effortlessly with the diners while pouring them sake, the picture of warmth and hospitality. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, one that made me love him even more. Plus, the guy was great at managing the business end of things.

If Miki was my rock, Jiro was my safe place, ensuring I never had to face anything alone. It helped that he fully understood what I’d been through; he had endured it too. We still talked about those dark times occasionally; it was unavoidable. And it wasn’t just me who needed to vent—Jiro did too.

Rekindling our relationship was the best thing for both of us. Even Miki approved, which surprised me. She had been fiercely protective at the start and hadn’t trusted Jiro at all. I was skeptical, too, at first, but I figured I’d never know unless I tried.

Jiro didn’t win me back with words—he showed me through actions every day. He proved he was a new man, not by telling me but by being someone I could depend on, someone I could trust, someone who would always put me first. We might have been wrong for each other at university, but now, we were exactly what the other needed.

“Chef!” Miki’s voice snapped me out of my pleasant thoughts. She peeked her head into the kitchen, her face lit with excitement. “Chef Takahashi just left us a five-star review online!”

I arched an eyebrow while wiping my hands on a towel. “Takahashi? As in the famed chef who owns the Kaiseki Table Takahashi?”

“Yes! That Takahashi!” Miki nodded eagerly. “He said you’re one to watch, a rising star in the sushi world!”

I pressed a hand to my chest, my heart racing. A year ago, I never would have thought this would be possible. I had always believed I could be the chef I wanted; I needed to be trained by the best. Clearly, I hadn’t won Chef Sakamoto’s apprenticeship, but that’s what made Chef Takahashi’s words even more warming. My success was based on my own will and talent. Not because I’d completed a fancy apprenticeship. I had carved my own path and enjoyed the fruits of my labor.

“Soon, every celebrity in Japan will be fighting for a seat here,” Miki said. “Mark my words.”

“Thank you,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though. Let’s focus on pleasing the guests we have here tonight.”

Miki grinned and disappeared back into the dining room.

After closing, I sat alone in my office. Miki and the staff had already left. Jiro was checking our inventory in the walk-in fridge. Hitting up the morning markets with him had become my favorite pastime. I loved bouncing new menu ideas off him, and he loved being my guinea pig.

I took a quick look at the reservation book. We were now booked a month and a half out, something I’d never imagined would be possible. But people were telling their friends, who told their friends, and so on. Each name felt like a small victory, proof that my little restaurant was gaining traction and I was on my way to earning that coveted Michelin star.

Suddenly, my heart jumped as my eyes froze on a name: Reina Sakamoto.

For a long time, I just stared at the name, convinced my eyes were playing tricks. But it was there, clear as day, as though she had never perished in the flames.

It had to be a mistake.

A cruel joke.

Someone playing a sick game.

The reservation was for tomorrow night, at 7:30. A table for one. According to the book, it had been made a week ago via a walk-in.

There should still have been security footage saved in the hard drive. My fingers trembled as I tapped at my computer and launched the application.

I navigated to the time stamp, but my mouse hovered over the play button, paralyzed. What if it really was her? The past had already stolen so much from me; could I bear to face it again? But I had to know. I pressed play.

The grainy black-and-white footage showed the front door swinging open. A woman entered the restaurant, her movements fluid, purposeful. I leaned closer to the screen.

Her hair was long, cascading down her back in loose waves. Her outfit was nondescript but luxurious. It didn’t scream Reina, but it could have been her. Unfortunately, her face was obscured by oversize sunglasses as she approached the host stand. But the leveled chin…the straight back…the graceful steps… They were all eerily familiar.

I paused the video, focusing on the figure frozen on the screen. Reina Sakamoto was supposed to be dead. And yet her name sat there on my reservation list, like a whisper from the grave.

Jiro poked his head into my office. “Hey, you ready to get out of here?” I looked up at him, and his smile faded. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen the devil himself.”

“It’s worse than that.”

Click to continue the series : Akiko Ono returns in the second installment of the Knives & Flames trilogy.