Send a Martini to Table Eight – Part 05

After that, we went through three different stores before we finally found a horned owl. I hadn’t thought it would take that long. It was already past nine by the time we were done, so to recover from the exhaustion—especially for poor Orito—we stopped by a conveyor-belt sushi place.

“You said a sushi restaurant, but what is this place? Is this what they call conveyor-belt sushi?”

High-society Saras, used to fancy, high-end sushi, was seeing one for the first time. Damn bourgeois.

We were guided to a booth near the back, six of us: me, Orito, Tomonori, Mihara, Hiramatsu, and Saras.

Sitting at the far end with Hiramatsu, I was in prime position to grab the plates as they came by.

“Hoshikawa, this your first time at a conveyor-belt sushi place? No way,” Mihara teased from across the table.

“Not surprising, actually,” Orito muttered with a sigh, dropping his