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About Tokyo

So, I’m prowlin’, yeah, lookin’ for one. Not my usual gig – I’d rather bid on a cursed mask or summat. But there she is, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a fag like she owns the night. “What’s yer price, love?” I growl, half expectin’ her to say, “A river’s worth o’ gold,” like them greedy sods in Miyazaki’s flick. She laughs – rough, like gravel – an’ says, “Firty quid, big man.” Thirty! I’m gobsmacked, mate. Thought it’d be more, what with inflation an’ all.

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So, I woke up late, as usual. My alarm? Yeah, it totally ghosted me. I jumped outta bed, threw on some clothes, and bolted out the door. First stop? The local konbini on Kōen-dōri. Gotta grab my morning fix, right? I’m talkin’ about that sweet, sweet onigiri. I swear, it’s like a hug in rice form.

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