Although I had vaguely planned to join Johan and Marie for a visit to Kamakura, those plans quietly disappeared the moment I opened my eyes and noticed it was already 16:30. Jet lag, late nights, endless walking, and Tokyo’s constant stream of impressions had finally caught up with me. By the time I got myself out of bed, Johan and Marie were undoubtedly already wandering through temples, bamboo groves, and seaside streets somewhere far outside the city.
After a quick shower to wake myself back into existence, I stepped outside into the late afternoon air of Tokyo. The city already carried that soft transition from day to evening; shop lights flickering awake, bicycles rushing home, and the endless rhythm of trains and crossing signals echoing between the buildings. I grabbed something quick to eat and thought about what to do with the few remaining hours of the day.
When I arrived, Tamura-san was not there yet. Since my visit had been completely spontaneous, I had not contacted anyone beforehand. I decided to message my drummer, Hasegawa-san, to let him know I was at Tagen. Not long after, Gaku-san contacted Tamura-san to tell him I had shown up unexpectedly at the bar.
So while waiting, I settled in quietly with a Highball and watched the street through the window. Tokyo evenings always have their own kind of theatre: salarymen loosening their ties after work, students laughing loudly in small groups, elderly couples moving slowly through the crowd, neon reflections dancing over wet pavement. A colourful mix of people, all moving through their own stories while the city kept flowing around them.
About forty minutes later, Tamura-san finally arrived. It was genuinely wonderful to see him again. The last time we met was back in 2024,. During that visit I had the honour of presenting him with the album Jinsei. One of the compositions on that album carries special meaning for both of us — a tune I wrote for his brother, Kazuhiro Tamura, after his passing. The piece is called Silent Warrior, dedicated to his memory. Seeing Tamura-san again in that same place immediately brought back memories of that emotional evening.
We spent hours talking about life, music, travelling, and everything in between. My Japanese was slowly improving, enough now to follow conversations more naturally and joke along here and there. Around 22:00 the evening seemed to be winding down, and the crew of Tagen was preparing to close, but in true Tokyo fashion the night suddenly found a second life. More people started coming in, drinks appeared from nowhere, conversations became louder, and before long the quiet evening had transformed into a small spontaneous party.
The atmosphere became warm and lively, filled with laughter, cigarette smoke drifting near the entrance, clinking glasses, and the universal language of people simply enjoying each other’s company. Everyone was incredibly friendly, and despite the occasional language barrier, I felt strangely at home. Moments like these are difficult to plan; they simply happen and often become the memories you carry with you the longest.
