The Master of the Izakaya 'Sengoku'

It had been about half a year since my younger sisters, who had been living in Suzuka, moved to Ueda due to certain circumstances.
The CD 'Tales of the Pine Tree,' which contained a suite for synthesizer, was completed, and a celebration party was planned by like-minded friends, which my sister also attended.

A few days later, I received a phone call from my sister.
“There’s someone I really want you to meet...”
She told me that she had let this person listen to my CD, and he liked it so much that he wanted to meet me. She said he was the master of an izakaya.
My sister, who worked as an insurance agent, had a much wider social circle than I did.
“An izakaya? Do you think I’d fit in? I’ve never been to a place like that.”
“He’s a good person, and he loves music, so I think you’ll have plenty to talk about.”

At that time, I made my living through piano instruction and music production, living a life centered entirely around music. In contrast to my sociable sister, my social circle was narrow, limited almost exclusively to other piano teachers or music store clerks.
The executive at the music store would tell me,
“Since you are a teacher of teachers, you must always behave with that position in mind.”
I felt forced to play the role of a 'great master' that was far removed from my true self, and I felt suffocated by it.
— A piano teacher must be like this —
Such thoughts had me tied up in knots.
I was bad at small talk, and I was particularly troubled by not knowing what to say to people I was meeting for the first time. You could say I was somewhat socially anxious.
I couldn't even imagine what ordinary men of my age were thinking about or what kind of lives they were leading.
Because of that state of mind, I wasn't easily moved by my sister's invitation. However, after receiving several calls from her,
“He really wants to meet you,”
I gave in to my sister's persuasion and decided to make the effort.
— The master of an izakaya —
The image I imagined from those words was a short-haired, sturdy man who looked like he would suit a twisted headband.
However, when I actually met him, he was far from that image.
The person who came out of the kitchen had long hair tied back and a slender build that suited jeans. He looked more like a musician than an izakaya owner. His clear-cut features and reserved demeanor made me feel his honest character.
The man approached with a nervous look on his face. And the first thing he said was a compliment about my CD. I was moved by the passion with which he spoke.
That night, we talked until late after the shop closed. Because of his experience playing drums in a band when he was young, his passion for music was extraordinary, and I was happy that we could talk about the rock music I had been obsessed with in my teens. I believe he said he liked Simon Kirke's drumming for Free. It was the arrival of a 'happy time' I had never expected.
His name was 'Akio.' He asked me to call him 'Aki-chan,' but since he was three years older than me, I hesitated to do so and continued to call him 'Akio-san.'
He really took good care of me.
He took many copies of my CD, kept them in stock at his shop, introduced them to various people, and sold more copies than anyone else.
When I got stage work, he helped me carry my equipment. It was also he who suggested I hold a solo concert, and he even provided his shop as the venue for free on two occasions.
Just as my sister had said, he was truly a 'good person.'
I became acquainted with the shop's regulars who loved music, and the fun times I hadn't experienced since my youth returned.
Looking back now, the time I spent frequenting the izakaya 'Sengoku' was a precious turning point where I was able to regain my sense of self. I got to know many people and began to stand in front of others more often.
The izakaya 'Sengoku' was also a place that served as a point of contact with my sister, who worked in a different field. For my sister, building connections was an important part of her job, and she was affectionately called 'Kimi-chan' by the people around her.
My sister and I were told by the regulars,
“I’ve never seen such close siblings,”
and I also felt tickled by the comments that we were
“such unique and amazing siblings.”
I can't forget this one scene from when we went out for karaoke with the regulars, including my sister.
A man named 'Yama-san,' whom I had become familiar with at Sengoku, shook my shoulder and said,
“Hey, look at that.”
In the direction he was pointing, my sister had been standing and singing for a while.
I knew that already.
“My sister is a good singer, right?”
“No, that’s not it... look at the position of the microphone at her waist.”
“Oh...”
I was stunned by this.
I had never seen such a sight.
My sister used to boast about her vocal volume, and indeed, this was amazing.
I had heard stories from her student days about how she had sung professionally in a band and was adored by younger boys. But those were all things I heard after the fact, and I had never actually seen it with my own eyes.
Being in the same space like this and seeing with my own eyes how she was loved by everyone was the first time since our childhood.
The image connected with the three-year-old version of her who was doted on by her elementary school classmates and was an idol-like figure.
Freed from the life in Suzuka where her ex-husband had denied her personality and oppressed her, my sister had regained her true self.
My sister treated everyone with a smile and a frank attitude, and she made friends immediately. Her open-minded stance, which was a bit different from the people I had interacted with until then, has left a significant influence on my life since.
Now that I am known as a talkative mental magician,
“When I was young, I was shy and bad at small talk,”
no one believes me when I say things like that.
Thinking about it now, it was a turning point where I returned to my true self. Because there was a place called Sengoku, and because there was a master named Akio-san, a certain 'era' was imprinted for me. That is the impression I have.
Speaking of 'Akio-san of Sengoku,' there is an unforgettable episode that had a positive influence on me afterward. I would like to talk about that at another time.