Sakura Blade Shop Owner's Notes | Things I Want to Say to You in the Quiet of the Night

I'm A-Ren, the owner of Sakura Blade shop, and the guy who's still counting knives, checking packaging, and replying to private messages in the warehouse every night until midnight. Tonight, the warehouse is especially quiet, with only the air conditioning and the occasional soft clatter of the knife cases. I made myself a cup of coffee and decided not to sell anything, just to chat with you all.

The truth about "cheap"

You always ask, "Why do other brands sell the same VG10 Damascus steel knife for more?" Every time, I want to answer: Because I don't want good knives to become toys for the rich. My grandfather was an old swordsmith in Sakai City. He only made one knife in his entire life, selling it for a few thousand yen, saying, "A knife is meant to accompany people in their daily lives, not just hang on the wall to look at." I've engraved this in my heart, so we don't hire spokespeople, we don't sell in department stores, and we don't open a shop in Ginza. All the money we save is used to make more knives. Earning less doesn't matter; as long as you're happy using them, I can sleep soundly.

I kept all the knives that were returned.

A customer returned a knife saying the handle had a crack. After checking, I found it was just natural tiger stripes from the wood grain, but I still gave them a full refund, washed the knife, and put it in my drawer. Now I have an "orphan knife rack" in my kitchen, full of knives that were once rejected but are actually fine. My wife laughs at me, saying, "You treat the knives better than you treat me." I say, "Because they're like me—not pretty, but with good intentions."

The most touching message

Last month, a mother left a message: "My husband has been despondent since his amputation in a car accident. I secretly bought your fruit and vegetable knife and placed it in front of him. For the first time, he peeled an apple for our daughter and cried like a child. Thank you for helping him rediscover the feeling of being a father." After reading that, I immediately squatted down in the warehouse and cried. After crying, I ordered two hundred more of that knife from our stock. This is why I persist—a knife is not just a knife; sometimes it is salvation.

Regarding maintenance, I'll only talk about the simplest aspects.

You've asked a hundred questions about knife maintenance, but I'll just tell you how I do it: Rinse with water after use → Dry with kitchen paper (fastest way) → Insert the magnetic strip vertically. Every Sunday evening, I take a bottle of tea oil and wipe all the family's knives together, like giving them a massage. And that's how it's worked for five years—not a single one has rusted, and not a single handle has cracked. Don't overthink it; knives are like people—if they're well-fed, well-rested, and protected from the rain, they'll live a long life.

Finally, I'd like to say...

Thank you for keeping Sakura Blade alive. Whenever I'm so exhausted I want to close the shop, I open the back office and see the photos you send me of how you use it—someone used the blue-green turquoise to cut a birthday cake, someone used the black charcoal gold to cut their first onion without crying, someone wrapped the knife up and took it camping… At that moment, I feel fully recharged. You're not just customers; you're the people I worry about most after handing over the knife.

Alright, I've finished my coffee. I have more orders to ship tomorrow. If you're currently using a Sakura Blade knife to cut vegetables, just give it a gentle push, and it will sing for you.

Good night. May your kitchen always be filled with light, and may the knife in your hand always be sharp.

—Aren at the small table in the corner of the warehouse (with a package piled up next to it to be sent to you tomorrow).