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Not Interacting with anyone currently. In his restaurant, prepping for the day.
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Ryan pushes the sliding bamboo door to his restaurant to the right, ducking under a nonexistent door curtain and enters his restaurant. A small water fountain made from rough granite bubbled away at the entrance. Giving a small bow, he picked up the bamboo ladle by its long handle, scooped a bit of water and poured it over the top, wetting the stone, giving it a darker hue. Balancing the ladle on top, he took quiet but swift steps towards the depths of his restaurant.

Once in the kitchen, he moved methodically. The fish he had just picked up from the fish market will be delivered within the hour. Therefore, he had an hour to do other things. First things first, he picked up an industrial sized stock pot, filled it about half way with tap water and set it on top of one of the burners. Reaching into the refrigerator, he retrieves a almost laughably small stock pot from it and empties its content into the large pot. Giving a slight nod, he turns the burners on to high. Flames jetted out, caressing the base of the pot like the warmest of embraces. Walking towards a dark corner of the pantry, he picked up a large tub and opened it. In it, several stalks of dried, dark, seaweed stood. Taking out three pieces, he snapped each in half, small flakes of the seaweed and the outer coating of white powder can be seen falling back into the tub. Walking back into the stock pot, he gently deposited the kombu into the stock pot. The liquid, having come to a boil, swallowed up the plant swiftly. Deeming it sufficient, he turned the flames down to no more than a gentle simmer. There, the stock pot will remain, until the night is over. Water will be added as needed of course. 

Opening the refrigerator once again, he took mental notes of what was inside and what he needed for tonight's service. [color=00aeef][i]"Eggs, salt-cured salmon roe, an serving of fugu milt for that one couple that always gets it... Hmm...Ah. I have to take that out right now actually..."[/i][/color] He reached in, grabbing two bottles of liquid, one darker than the other, and set them on the counter. Those two bottles would be crucial later on.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling softly, he walked towards the sink and thoroughly washed his hands, drying them with a paper towel. Reaching above him, he takes down two pieces of well worn whetstone. His breathing is very steady, as it has been this entire time. He turns on the filtered tap from one side of his sink and lets it run while he retrieved a small container. Filling the container up with filtered water, he drops the two whetstone one by one, making sure they don't bang into each other. While the stones are soaking, he goes to the back of the kitchen and retrieves a small suitcase like box. He takes a look at the stones, deeming that they have absorbed the requisite amount of water, he takes them out and places them on a clean cloth towel. The stone with the #1000 grit is on his left hand side, and the stone with the #8000 grit is on his right. Opening the box, he first carefully inspects each of the three knives for any surface imperfections. To him, these represent his livelihood. He treats them with more care than his own hands sometimes. Content with how the knives looked, he started each at the lower grit level, making sure their edges are honed to at least a medium edge. However, medium edges are simply not good enough. He then spends about thirty minutes with each knife, sharpening them to a fine edge with the high grit whetstone. Setting the knives down softly on the cloth, he pours out the small container of water and sets the container aside to be cleaned after. Before cleaning the container, he turns on the filtered tap water and rinsed the knives off, cleaning off the fine metallic particles that may have been left in the sharpening process. Then, one at a time, he took the knives out to the service counter and placed them down, in order of widest to narrowest. They're now ready to be used as they were intended to.

A small buzzing can be heard back in the kitchen.

[color=00aeef]"Ah. the fish is here..."[/color] He walked back into the kitchen to let the delivery staff in. They swiftly unloaded the fishes he had ordered. He does a quick, but thorough, inspection of each item to make sure they were the ones he ordered. After he is done, he offered the delivery personnel a quick bow and bid them a good day. 

Now comes the fun part, he thought.

Moving quickly, he shelved the tuna into the refrigerator, to keep its temperature as low as possible before he absolutely needs it. Then, going to work on some of the smaller fish, he descaled them, cut them into the proper fillets, and laid them out on the clean counter before preparing them according to how he wished to serve them for the night. Some are salt cured, some are placed into a slightly acidic vinegar and mirin bath to marinade for the time being. Others were simply cut into appropriate pieces and placed in different refrigerator to age. Now, the tuna. He took out the fish that has already been halved before arriving at his restaurant out. Taking a deep breath, his hands got to work deftly disassembling the large fish. Even though it was halved, it yielded enough content for him to successfully complete his service for the night. Some slices were marinaded in a sweet soy sauce mixture, others are left in a 'loin' form, to be cut when service begins. Others, like the collar of the fish, was simply removed and reserved for the chef and the rest of the team.

A smile remained on his face while he took apart the fish, joyous with the opportunity to work with and serve such exquisite ingredient. 

A small noise can be heard. The bamboo door was slid to a side and opened. His staff have began to arrive. He nodded to himself, washing his hands as he walked over to a clean whiteboard. He then started writing down, meticulously, what the menu of the day consisted of. As the kitchen staff arrived, they know to check the board first to get an understanding of what ingredients are in the coolers before they even opened it. They would also know what steps each of them had to take to get the restaurant ready for service. Three staff members walked into the kitchen, uniformly greeted him with a [color=00a651]"Good Morning Chef"[/color] and he replied in a stern, but very respectful tone [color=00aeef]"Good Morning. Lets have a good day today!"[/color], in Japanese of course. 

As he exited the restaurant, leaving the rest of the prep work to his staff, a small ping could be heard. The clock had just struck Six AM.