A Promise Kept Over Sushi
The search for the missing man came to a somewhat anticlimactic end compared to all the work and tension up to that point. Just in case, they'd taken everything that might serve as proof of identity and burned it, leaving only the items in his bag and the discarded clothes. They'd confirmed the abandoned bag was his because they found his employee ID tucked in an inner corner. No idea why he'd brought it along, but we were satisfied. While the manager called the client, I pondered where to grab dinner that evening.
"The client's coming here as soon as possible."
"Can they get a flight that quick?"
"Not today—probably arriving tomorrow morning. There's still the drive from the airport."
"Alright, let's take a ton of photos and grab the luggage. If they want, they can come back here; if not, no big deal."
"Got it."
"Ughhh... finally done."
Questions lingered about his identity from the memories, but I had no desire to dig deeper. I wasn't planning to stick around Osaka forever anyway—just heading back to Korea, and stirring up trouble sounded like a massive hassle. If they came looking in Korea, I'd deal with it then. Stretching grandly, I thought gazing at the sunset over the sea after so long was a nice touch.
"Time to head back. I'll treat everyone big-time for all your hard work."
"For real?"
"We're in Japan—gotta have sushi, sushi."
Sliding into the passenger seat of the black van, I sank into the plush cushion. The two in the back seemed to have gotten chummy, whispering quietly, so maybe I'd catch a quick nap. Michelin three-star chef making fresh sushi at a local spot? I'd enjoyed it back in Korea, but savoring perfectly aged fish and vinegar-seasoned rice at its peak—how amazing would that be? I smacked my lips in anticipation.
How the hell did it end up like this?
"You said you'd treat me if I came to your hometown. It's as good as that sushi place you were eyeing, so loosen up that face."
A guy who should be holed up in his room singing and yelling "Kyarrat☆" was sitting across from me, spooning up the complimentary tea and chawanmushi with a tiny spoon. I should've noticed something off when that lousy driver kept glancing my way.
"I'm not mad."
"We promised before—if I came to Japan, Osaka, we'd grab a meal together. That's it."
"Of course I remember. I keep my promises. But did it have to be tonight?"
"You always say 'next year' every time we talk, so yeah, it had to be tonight."
His answer made me reflect on my past flakiness, and yeah, maybe he had a point. Vulgarly speaking, dining with the oyabun's son offered me zero upsides. Fine, I'd concede today.
"Can't be helped. Who knew you'd take a casual Korean 'let's grab food sometime' so seriously."
"I don't speak Kyoto-ese."
"Oh, really?"
I rinsed my mouth with cool oolong tea and scooped some chawanmushi. The steamed egg's subtle seafood aroma wasn't bad. Pretty decent, that was the vibe.
"This is the Japanese place that suits my taste best. I come here often."
"Yeah? Nice atmosphere too."
A staff member entered cautiously, setting rice and side dishes on the table. Japanese set meals ranged from under ten bucks to tens of thousands, varying wildly. The number of sides probably set the price more than anything. Who'd have thought I'd see a Jeonju-style 17-course banquet in side-dish-stingy Japan?
"Enjoy your meal."
The middle-aged woman in an elegant kimono bowed almost to the floor before retreating backward with quick steps. Everything was great, but this country could be too much sometimes.
"Not bad. Mild flavors that go down easy."
"I asked for it extra bland. Suits your taste."
"Since when do you know my taste?"
"I remembered what you said back then."
"Creepy."
No matter how much you like someone, nobody wants a guy who remembers every word from your first meeting and acts on it years later. Most would get chills and bolt. I sipped the miso soup infused with seafood notes and worked through the sides one by one. Tasty, sure, but not like I couldn't make it myself. Nothing too tough with a little effort.
"So, real talk—why'd you wanna eat together? Something up?"
"Nah. Just wanted to. Little selfish wish to leave you with good Japan memories too."
"Huh. Figured you were like the other guys who buy me dinner and want something weird."
"...Like what?"
"All sorts. Basic stuff guys say to women, I guess. Lately, marriage proposals top the list."
"Lower-head-over-brain types."
He made a rare displeased face, knowing I was Korean, and clicked his tongue. A weird country with leaky drug enforcement but cracking down hard on gangs. Rumors said prosecutors even nurtured them for busts—tougher than Japan's lax approach. Not that I couldn't flex if needed...
"Whatever. I'd get mad if it was just one or two, but I'm used to it now."
A woman housing a 40-something uncle inside? Money and muscles just came off as cute. I had way more cash, and if it was just muscles, I'd stick with athletes.
"Stuffed. This once in a while is nice."
"Wanna come back here next time?"
"Place is good, but the company? Don't wanna get rumored as your girlfriend."
"Shame."
"What?"
We chuckled as I took a bite of the dessert red bean ice cream. Sweetness enveloped my tongue. A pure-hearted guy like this might spark a one-night interest, but his status was the issue. Didn't wanna get shot or kidnapped walking with him.
"Trade you: I'll eat with you again if you recommend a new spot."
"Took three years for that last promise—now another three?"
"Or come to Korea yourself."
"That might... put you in a spot."
"Would it?"
Someone under Japanese watch in Korea? They'd track from the airport. Way stricter than Japan—any meeting reported up the chain, public knowledge. Parents and relatives would hassle more than me.
"Vtuber-ing means you watch tons of manga and anime, right?"
"Not really. Character's just for show—hard to broadcast barefaced, but voice alone feels lacking."
"Guess you skipped that pirate manga then."
"Started but dropped. Why? Into that stuff?"
"Saw a cool technique. Haki—pure willpower makes you infinitely stronger. Fun if real."
"...Huh?"
I shot him a look like what nonsense. Claiming I could use cartoon powers? Kinda weird, and yeah, it was pointless. Tried a safe topic since nothing else came to mind, but even that flopped. Next would've been debating Jiraiya vs. Itachi strength from ninja manga.
"Great meal. Time to go."
"No drinks?"
"Nah. Client arrives tomorrow—early meet. I'm here for work."
"Usually underlings handle that."
"I like getting hands-on, meeting people."
"Fair enough."
Call it settling the favor for saving one guy with a meal. Plus gold bars.
"Yeah, let's head out."
I caught his slight grumble about eating with me being harder than dining with top idols or national little sisters as we left together. We'd eaten over an hour, so the sushi crew was probably back at the hotel rooms I'd booked. Overseas trip deserved at least one night out.
"Want a ride to the hotel?"
"Nah. Gonna take the train up front, sightsee a bit."
"Hmm... alright. See you soon."
We parted with clean goodbyes—he turned crisply. A quick business meet in the same car again? Might look too cozy. Had to dodge watchful eyes. Waved at his departing car till it vanished, then headed straight to the subway.
—
The next day at 9 a.m., the flight from Incheon touched down. The client couple approached with trembling steps. Rushed so much they'd only packed a change of clothes; I greeted them silently, carefully handing over the ID with their son's photo. She stared through teary eyes for ages before tears fell. The father beside her just looked grim. Imagining it vaguely was worlds apart from facing reality.
"Before we talk details, let's sit and collect ourselves first."
"Sorry... it's just..."
"I understand completely."
These moments were best handled personally. I curved my lips in a subtle, genuine smile and gently patted the weeping woman's shoulder.