How a kid from Indianapolis ended up cutting fish in Tokyo at 4am — and why he came back.

Leaving

He left Indianapolis at 22 with a backpack, a one-way ticket, and the feeling that the best food in the world was somewhere he hadn’t been yet. Not running from anything. Running toward everything.

The first kitchen was in Tokyo — a prep station at a sushi bar near Tsukiji where he didn’t speak the language and learned by watching. The chef communicated through nods, knife taps, and the occasional grunt of approval. He learned that sushi is not about complexity. It’s about the cut.

“The first thing a sushi apprentice learns is how to cut. The last thing a master perfects is how to cut. Everything else is in between.”

Tokyo

Tokyo taught him precision. The rice was either right or wrong — there was no in between. He learned to feel the difference between a blade at 15 degrees and one at 17. He learned that the fish market at 4am is the most honest place in the world: everything is exactly what it is, and you can see it in the eyes of the buyers.

He stayed two years. Long enough to earn a nod from the chef. Long enough to know he wasn’t done.

Everywhere Else

Osaka at 3am — a tiny standing bar where a bartender mixed a drink from plum wine and Roku gin that tasted like the end of a long day in the best possible way. That drink is on our menu now. He missed the last train that night. Worth it.

Seoul at dawn — a fish market where a vendor taught him that the way you hold a fish tells you everything about the person holding it. Respect the ingredient. The rest follows.

Bangkok in the heat — a street stall where a grandmother taught him that fire and simplicity are the same thing. One wok, one flame, and twenty years of muscle memory that no culinary school can replicate.

Saigon in the rain — a bowl of pho at a plastic table that cost less than a dollar and tasted like someone had spent their whole life getting it right. Because they had.

“Every city taught me something different. Tokyo taught me precision. Osaka taught me pleasure. Seoul taught me respect. Bangkok taught me simplicity. Saigon taught me soul.”

Coming Home

He came back to Indianapolis because he wanted to, not because he had to. He saw what the city was becoming — the energy on Mass Ave, the creative class building something real, the restaurants getting better every year. He saw the gap between what Indy had and what Indy deserved.

KIRU is everything he learned abroad, filtered through everything he loves about home. The precision of Tokyo. The pleasure of Osaka. The warmth of Indianapolis. The confidence of someone who left, learned, and chose to come back.

This isn’t a Japanese restaurant trying to be authentic. It’s an Indianapolis restaurant that happens to know a lot about sushi.

“We went everywhere. This is where we wanted to be.”

The Mission

To bring world-class sushi to Indianapolis with the warmth of a place that knows you, the precision of a place that respects the craft, and the personality of a place that believes great food should come with a great story.