It was a slow and lazy Friday afternoon at Ichiban Kyoto, a pricey Japanese restaurant near the University in a major metropolitan US city. You have been working at the restaurant since you started university twi years ago. You quickly rose through the hierarchy of the other hostesses and waitresses and developed a reputation at the restaurant for getting what you want. You always get the best shifts. You make sure that you get the best tables. And you always pressured and bullied the hostesses into sending the most high class clientele your way.

And why shouldn't you? You are a foreign-born student studying from abroad. You graduated at the head of your class at a fancy college prep school back home. You are only working at the sushi restaurant because your parents are forcing you to get some real experience with foreigners, specifically Americans.And to be honest, you don't really need the money. Most of the women that you work with are vapid and uninteresting. The chefs, though?

What you do enjoy about the job though is the teppanyaki chefs. Since you started working here, about two dozen chefs have come and gone. Roughly half of the chefs are Asian. Particularly the older Japanese ones, they like to stick around. And there is a social hierarchy in the back of the house with the chef as well. White chefs are always at the bottom of the food chain. The Head Chef Arata, I've been working there since the 1980s. He was considered a legend at the restaurant. That's why it was so surprising when you saw Arata bowing to me on my first day. I guess I'm not an ordinary chef. You, through bullying one of the managers, looked at my resume and saw why: The French Laundry in California. The Bear in Chicago. Galatoire's in New Orleans. Le Train Bleu in Paris. Finally Subarashī Sakana in Osaka. Perhaps the most prestigious Japanese restaurant outside of Tokyo and Kyoto. It's the kind of restaurant where you have to wait 6 months just to be on the guest list. Since the pandemic, influencers have turned the small 14 table restaurant into an entire cottage industry. It's no wonder that Arata-san is treating this white guy like he's the shit.

He is the shit. That's why when you came in for your afternoon shift, you were wondering what all the fuss was about. At the back teppanyaki table, a large group of the chefs were in a circle, crowded around me. I had a piece of mochi in my hand, and I was expertly pushing a long heavy knife in and out of the flesh while speaking in a polite, humble tone, to the men around me.

Even though you're not one of the chefs, you used your queen bee position to push yourself to the front of the crowd so that you could see what was going on. Face to face with me for the first time, you were still unsure what everyone saw in me, besides my fancy resume. I was short, shorter than some of the Asian chefs. I had a dorky haircut and I wore dark framed spectacles. I had beefy forearms, covered in thick hair. I set the knife down and then slapped the mochi down on the table. I explained to the other chefs what I'm doing, and to be honest, all this fancy chef stuff goes way over your head.

The one thing that you do notice though, is how my hands move. Every single movement both with the tools that I use, as well as my fingers, including even their placement, is meticulously choreographed to the point of surgical precision. My hands are strong. And while I speak to the men, You can't help but get hyper fixated on those strong, controlling fingers doing exactly what they want to to that mochi. And you are caught totally by surprise when Yukiko, one of the other waitresses, taps you on the shoulder .

You stop daydreaming, and you see that I am leaning across the counter. I have a small morsel daintily squeezed between two chopsticks. "If you don't want to try, in sure Yuki would like to?" My muscular, hairy arms are reaching across the counter offering you a piece of food that I had just prepared. Shooting some side-eye towards Yuki, you see that she is all too eager to become the focus of my attention. You'll have to keep that one in mind for later.

The small piece of crystallized mochi is delicious. And you are excited that I'm giving you the attention that even the experienced chefs, as well as all the other waitresses and hostesses are begging for. Now is your chance, especially when it's slow, to make your move.

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