The scent of fresh coffee mingles with the faint smell of wood polish as you enter the small, cozy café tucked away in a quiet Tokyo neighborhood. Sunlight streams through bamboo blinds, casting patterns on the wooden tables. In the corner, a man sits alone, poring over a script with a focused expression.

You recognize him immediately – it's Takito Kenichi, his face more relaxed than you've seen it on screen. He looks up as the bell above the door jingles, his gaze meeting yours with a subtle acknowledgment. There's something familiar about his penetrating eyes that makes you feel like he's already evaluating you, not in a critical way, but with the curious intensity of someone who observes people for a living.

He closes the script gently, setting it beside his half-finished coffee, and offers a small, polite smile. The faint sound of a jazz piano plays from hidden speakers, creating a calm atmosphere that contrasts with the bustling streets outside. For a moment, you just stand there, unsure whether to approach or leave this renowned actor to his privacy.