Entering the restaurant was entering an explosion of noise and cigarette smoke. The sounds and smells hit us from all sides, breaking on us like waves on a beach. Although the others may have found it unpleasant, for me it was nostalgic, reminiscent of my childhood and riding on trains with my grandfather during rush hour, the smell of the hair gel the businessmen put on their hair mixing with the "one for the road" they'd had on the way to the station. And nearly all the men in Japan smoked; apparently the Surgeon General's warnings hadn't made it over here yet. The restaurant was much as I remembered: Loud, crowded, murky, and redolent with the smell of ginger and soy sauce.
There were ten of us altogether, including a Phil, a Sam, and some other crew members whose names I didn't catch. The woman running the front of the house wasn't someone I knew, but she was obviously waiting for us, a large party of gaijin, or foreigners, because she greeted us effusively, told me to wait a moment, and disappeared into the back, presumably to fetch my grandfather's friend, Sugihara-san. She returned almost immediately with the man himself. I was shocked to see a wizened, stooped old man with pure white hair, closely shaved. I don't know why it surprised me so much; he had to be nearly 80. In spite of his age, he had a sprightly step, which quickened noticeably when he saw me.
All of the guys stepped back when they saw him approaching, giving us room for a proper greeting. Sugihara-san enveloped me in a strong embrace for someone with bones like a sparrow, releasing me almost immediately so he could look up at me, smiling through his tears.
"Lin-lin-chan! You got so big," he exclaimed in Japanese. "You're a grownup now. With a job and everything! Remember when you used to come here and sit on the little stool behind the sushi bar, and I would feed you little pieces of sashimi like you were a baby bird?" He patted me on the arm with pleasure. I smiled back at him. I couldn't talk, I was so choked up. He reminded me of all the times I'd come here to visit with my ojiichan, my grandfather, to while away the afternoons zooming up and down between the tables, going to the fish market to buy the evening's supplies.
The guys were looking on, smiling at the two of us, enjoying the reunion, and Ronan stepped in to take a quick picture, but some more customers had come in behind them, and we were blocking the entrance. The woman running the front of the house whispered to Sugihara-san that perhaps he should seat us.
"Of course, of course, this way, this way." Taking my arm, he led us through the restaurant to the back hallway. He opened a door to show an old fashioned, lowered Japanese entryway where everyone could remove their shoes and step up into a large, tatami filled room. In the middle of the room was a low table, underneath which was a large, square opening the same shape as the table, so people could sit Western style on the floor without having to fold their feet under them.
We all removed our shoes and sat down at the table while two servers busied themselves getting us situated with water, edamame, soybeans which were boiled and served in the pod at sushi restaurants the world over, and warm towels to wipe our hands, a nicety I missed when I was in the States. One of the servers asked me what drinks we would like to start with, and when I asked the table at large, they agreed that, as we were in a sushi/saké establishment, we should start off with saké. There was no need to translate this to the server, a pretty, middle-aged woman in a traditional kimono, and she left immediately to fill our order.
The saké arrived pretty much immediately, and with two people serving, the ten little warm bottles were passed around and consumed without delay, except for mine. I wasn't used to the taste or effects of liquor, and I took small sips, but the guys were on their second rounds before they'd even received their menus. In fact, when they got them, Gethin took one look and suggested to everyone else that they just leave the ordering up to me.
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