Sadie Odacho Oda Whore ❤️❤️

About Yokohama

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

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Odachi. Mizuki lifts the Odachi with her right hand as if it were not heavy and puts it on her shoulder, and displays a predatory smile.

After that, I’m walking down Kiyomizu Street, and I see this little café. It’s called “Kawaii Coffee” or something. I’m like, “I need caffeine!” So I go in, and the barista is this super cute girl. She’s all smiles, and I’m trying to play it cool. But then, I spill my drink all over the counter. Ugh! I’m mortified. She just laughs it off, though. I think I might’ve blushed.

He Escaped Death as a Kamikaze Pilot. 70 Years Later, He Told His Story. (Published 2020)