Tan was so little like his irasciblefather that few people believed his parentage.  The half-tanuki, half-fox leaned towards his mother’s side of the family and preferred staying home to roaming and avoided conflict whenever possible.  Perhaps he’d gotten the wanderlust out of his system as a child - he’d spent his first decade travelling with his father and getting into trouble that no young tanuki ought to have been exposed to.

Perhaps, instead, he took his deep-buried adventurousness out on food.

Tan took after his father’s people in looks, but beneath his svelt frame hid a stomach without end.  Tan could eat anything, in any quantity, and never suffer for it.  He could tell bad flavor from good and what, precisely, made it so; he could taste an item and tell you exactly what it lacked and what to do to improve the dish.  Where his father had a knack for theft and manipulation, Tan had a genius for all things culinary.  When he finally struck out on his own he took this gift with him and used it to establish his own restaurant.

If you’re ever down in Tokyo late at night and you have a craving for something strange, follow your feet and your stomach and you may find yourself at Tan’s intimate little bistro.  On the menu are things you’ve never heard of: kirin flesh braised in Kirin; soy-marinated benu eggs; sashimi cut from fish never seen by man.  If you’re exceptionally lucky you may catch sight of the owner, a broad-shouldered young man with shaggy mahagony hair and a lackidasical attitude circulating between tables like they’re family.  Let him choose your dishes for you - his palate is never wrong.