September 27th, 2025.
The Hague, Netherlands. Early morning.
I was riding toward the city center to have breakfast and film the beach with a drone. It was a good morning. I was fully present, focused, and content.
Moments later, I was lying on the asphalt, unable to move.
As I lay there, my life began to replay itself — not as noise or chaos, but as precise, ordered memories. One of them stood out with unexpected clarity.
Summer, 2004.
My grandfather, his old Java motorcycle, and a quiet afternoon spent learning two things: how machines work, and how knives are sharpened on whetstones. Slowly. Carefully. With attention. He taught me that precision matters, and that rushing only ruins good work.
Knives were always part of my life — things made to be used, maintained, and respected. Over time, that respect turned into a deeper fascination with how good tools are made, and why some endure while others do not.
That memory stayed with me.
That morning in The Hague, I was given another chance. And with it came clarity.
I have always believed that every person has a purpose, a responsibility to create something meaningful. For me, that purpose became unmistakably clear.
Yasashi Okami exists because of that realization.