Definitely one of the cases of parents being more excited than their kids where everyone on the plane was able to tell at first glance whose »trip« it really was. It was Jahho-Pekka's, no doubt. He had been waiting a lifetime for this, had dreamt and daydreamt the details so many times that should he one day in old age want to tell someone about his first time in Japan, he would most certainly not remember which version was the one having taken place not in his mind but in the material world. Has it not been for his wife almost constantly pinching his arm and the furious looks he got after the first half of an hour, he would have wanted to keep photographing every little detail until they arrived in the land of the rising sun. His 8 year old giggled mischievously, throwing looks towards [i]mum[/i] to make sure daddy's behaviour – or rather his not behaving – was going to be used as a very good excuse later. A couple of times Minkka – first born child of the family – could not hold back her laughter. Antti though, with his 3 years of life experience, naturally showed much less attention for daddy's hyper excited state. Considering the Japanese security being at its highest after all the reconstructions and repopulating of their country, it was almost a miracle the Sepännens were not turned in and investigated because of the father's more than [i]suspicious[/i] behaviour. 

The plan was to stay in Tokyo for a week before Jahho-Pekka started with his work. Of course he was going to take photos at every possible opportunity, but the official reason he had signed the contract for was making an artistic, journalistic album of the national Kendo championship, supposed to also portray the old and proud tradition of the samurai, swordsmanship and the bamboo blade. Arashida Sensei(s) had gotten him signed up for the job. It was one of the side projects of reviving the Japanese history and its various traditions before it was too late and Japan, as it had been, was lost from memories and eventually from history. As to our Finnish photographer, he could not have been more grateful for the opportunity. For the past three months he had taken the kids out for Japanese food at least twice a week and they had visited the Arashidas for at least one long evening a week, hoping for the kids to get introduced to a – maybe poor – simulation of where they would live for the next six months, because no way Jahho-Pekka was simply returning to Finland after the Championships. Thanks to his thorough project proposal he had gotten an extension in his contract, so that he could make a road trip across Japan, photographing the remains of older dojos, whether they had been put to use or not, and whatever relics of the Kendo-tradition before the incident was to be found. 

But the first week in Tokyo was still meant as a family vacation. He had promised to put work off for one week and be more of a dad than a photographer – or a Japan-freak.