Diagnosed with an incurable disease in his 20s. He still chose to open a shop in Chichibu

Sure.

I went to Chichibu Noko (Chichibu Agriculture & Engineering High School).

That's right. Though I was in the mechanical engineering department.

After graduating from mechanical engineering, I went to culinary school.

I just really loved eating.

Yeah, I was (laughs).

When I was entering high school, I actually considered the food science department, but I ended up going with the easier one to get into. Still, I thought, I should pursue what I really want to do. So I went to culinary school, got my cooking license in a year, and my first job was at an Italian restaurant.

A place called Mizzet in Urawa.

I did.

Because I loved pasta.

I think doing what you love is a good thing.

I lost about 20 kilograms in six months.

It was rough. Monday was our day off, but if there was a holiday, we'd end up working two straight weeks without a break. I'd be at the restaurant from 6 or 7 in the morning until late at night.

That was part of it. But there was also a senior coworker, one year older than me, who told me, "Yamamoto, you should really quit." That had a big impact.

Yeah. He was there every single day. But one day out of the blue he said, "I'm quitting first, but Yamamoto, you should quit too." So I went back to Chichibu.

I got a factory job.

Right. It was a factory that made molds for car parts.

From about age 20 to 25. But during that time, I started thinking, I don't want to spend my life in a factory.

I had my cooking license, and I figured I could make a go of it in the food business in Chichibu. But after the tough experience at the Italian restaurant, I'd become a bit turned off by the food industry altogether.

At that point, I was even thinking, I'm done with pasta too (laughs).

Because I thought it would be the most practical thing to do in Chichibu. I didn't have my heart set on any one type of food. I even considered offal cuisine. But when I weighed all the options, ramen seemed like the best fit for me.

Absolutely. Even when I left for training, I always planned to come back and do it in Chichibu. That was there from the very beginning.

At Joshouken in Honjo. At the time, the guy who now runs Golden Tiger was the manager there.

That's right. I'd been going there as a customer before I even decided to become a ramen chef. The owner was really easy to talk to, and I loved the tsukemen there. So I asked to join, and once I started, I realized that ramen was the right career for me. It didn't feel like a burden.

Making soup. The flavor completely changes depending on how you make the soup. That's what fascinated me.

Also, Kanazawa-san (the manager at the time, now owner of Golden Tiger) really set me straight. I was there for two and a half years, and I think he fixed a lot of what was rotten in me.

Less aggressive, more like... I was always making excuses.

I got scolded a lot. He'd pull me aside and chew me out every time. "Stop making excuses." Whenever a senior told me something, I'd immediately say "but" or "why" -- I couldn't help it. But I needed someone to tell me. I wouldn't have realized it on my own.

I do. When he stopped saying it, I thought to myself, "Huh, maybe I've changed."

After Joshouken, I went to an affiliate shop in Gunma. They asked me to try running a small shop on my own.

It was a tiny place, about 6 to 8 counter seats, and I ran it almost by myself. It was good experience, but I got stressed out again. The reason was the fear of not hitting sales targets.

I was. I knew I wanted to open my own place someday, so I was always crunching the numbers. I was in Isesaki, making about 30,000 yen a day in sales. I kept thinking, "If this is what it's like in Isesaki, what would it be like back in Chichibu?"

Actually, I was diagnosed with an incurable disease at 23. It's called ulcerative colitis.

That's right. The doctor at the hospital in Chichibu told me, "This doesn't go away." With medication, you can often live normally, but the symptoms come and go unpredictably. I believe it flares up when I'm under heavy stress.

Bloody stool and intense abdominal pain. It feels like someone is squeezing your organs. In severe cases, people need a colostomy bag, but I haven't gotten to that point.

Lately, it hasn't completely disappeared, but the symptoms are mostly gone. Now I just try to keep things as stress-free as possible.

When I left the shop in Isesaki, the symptoms flared up again. I needed to see specialists at a university hospital in the Tokorozawa area, so I looked for my next job somewhere closer. That's when I started working at Yoshikawa in Kawagoe.

It was probably the most intense period of all. If I hadn't met Kanazawa-san, I wouldn't have a ramen career at all. But after him, the next biggest influence was Yoshikawa.

Up until then, I'd mostly been making tsukemen and rich, heavy soup ramen. But Yoshikawa was all about clear chicken chintan broth and fish-focused ramen -- completely different from anything I'd done before.

I got to fillet a lot of fish there too. They had a seafood rice bowl on the menu, so the first thing I'd do every morning was break down a whole fish. A ramen shop where you start the day filleting fish -- that was something else.

Exactly. The limited-edition specials lean more toward the Joshouken style, and the regular menu is built on the Yoshikawa foundation.

Even back in high school, my part-time job was at a ramen shop, so in the end, it's always been ramen for me.

I heard that the ramen shop where I worked part-time in high school was closing, and they asked if I wanted to take it over. So I called my boss and said, "I'm sorry, but I have a chance to open a shop in Chichibu. I need to leave."

But that deal fell through. The old couple living upstairs didn't want the noise. They said "We don't want it to be noisy," and the property was off the table.

That's right. And then, two or three months later, COVID hit.

I came back around the end of 2019, planning to start looking for a property in the new year. But then the pandemic happened. I started wondering, "Can I really do this?"

But during that time, I went to the Chamber of Commerce, talked to mentors, and prepared my financing. I was searching for properties the whole time.

I wasn't dead set on this exact location from the start. I was looking at other places too, but nothing came up. Eventually, this was the one.

That's right. The counter you see now didn't exist at first -- it was nothing but empty walls. So the initial investment was significant, and I had my doubts.

But because it was during COVID, I had time to think. In the end, I made my peace with it and decided, "I'm doing it here."

The "Dai" comes from Taishouken. The "Kin" comes from Golden Tiger -- the "gold."

But "Daikin" alone sounded weird (laughs). Plus, every shop I trained at was an incredible place, and I wanted to beat them. In sumo, "daikinboshi" means pulling off a major upset -- a lower-ranked wrestler defeating a yokozuna. That's why I named it Daikinboshi.

That's right. I'm truly glad I was able to open this place.

First, I want to hire employees and expand to more locations. Not a huge number -- but I'd like one or two more shops.

Right now, I'm kind of maxed out on my own. Both in terms of growing the business and learning to manage people, I want to take things to the next level.

Someone I'd want to work with. But the one thing I've been told from the very beginning is that an honest, sincere person is best.

I wasn't always like that myself, so I feel it even more strongly. For better or worse, someone who can just say "yes" and "I understand." Right now, I think sincerity is the most important quality.

Not at all.

Please do (laughs).

Personally, I'd love to open a tsukemen specialty shop.

Who knows, I might call it "brothless tsukemen" and actually serve pasta (laughs). Vongole tsukemen, anyone?

I do.

It really does.

Absolutely. Thank you so much.

Thank you very much.