The invitation arrived through his office.
He wanted to experience the restaurant personally before submitting what his representative called a final, highly competitive acquisition proposal.
He requested the most traditional room.
A private kaiseki menu.
And service conducted entirely in Japanese.
He would bring one senior advisor.
Amara read the request.
Then looked toward Sachiko.
"Do you want to host him?"
The elderly woman considered.
"Hiroshi always said a guest must be welcomed properly."
Amara nodded.
"He did."
Sachiko looked toward her.
"But he also said hospitality does not require accepting disrespect."
Amara smiled.
"He taught me that too."
For several seconds, they remained silent.
Then Sachiko asked, "What are you thinking?"
Amara looked toward the request.
"I want to serve him."
Sachiko blinked.
"You?"
"Yes."
The elderly woman studied her.
"Amara, you're the owner."
"I know."
"You don't have to prove anything."
Amara shook her head.
"This isn't about proving I can carry a tray."
Sachiko waited.
Amara continued.
"Kuroda's representatives are telling people he already controls the restaurant. I want to understand how he behaves when he's inside it."
The elderly woman's expression became thoughtful.
"He won't recognize you?"
"Probably not."
"Why?"
"The acquisition meetings have gone through attorneys and corporate representatives. His team has dealt with our holding company, and he appears to assume the decision-maker is an older Japanese executive."
Sachiko sighed.
"People do enjoy inventing pictures of someone they've never met."
Amara smiled.
"Yes."
But Sachiko wasn't entirely comfortable.
"What if he's rude?"
Amara considered.
"Then we'll know something useful."
The elderly woman looked toward the kitchen.
"And if he's kind?"
"Then we'll know that too."
Sachiko thought for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Very well."
But she added a condition.
"You're not doing this alone."
Amara smiled.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Sachiko insisted that Maiko remain nearby and that the private dinner proceed under the restaurant's usual service standards.
No secret recording.
No staged humiliation.
No deliberate attempt to provoke the guest.
Amara would simply perform ordinary service and observe how Masaru behaved.
The staff were informed that the owner would be assisting that evening.
The kitchen prepared as it would for any important guest.
And Chef Ayaka Fujimoto, the forty-six-year-old head chef who had worked under Hiroshi for more than two decades, designed a menu celebrating the restaurant's traditions.
She began with delicate seasonal vegetables.
Continued with a refined clear soup.
Then sashimi.
A grilled course.
Seasonal tempura.
And a series of small dishes designed to highlight balance rather than extravagance.
When Amara reviewed the menu, she smiled.
"Hiroshi would've approved."
Ayaka nodded.
"I hope so."
Then she glanced toward Amara's kimono.
"Are you sure you want to serve tonight?"