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About Kawasaki

Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—smug mischief god! I’m burdened with glorious purpose, yeah? So, brothels—let’s dive in, headfirst, no helmet! Imagine this: seedy joint, dim lights, smells funky—sweat, cheap perfume, desperation. Reminds me of *The Headless Woman*—y’know, my fave flick? That line, “I hit something,” bangs round my skull. Brothels hit ya like that—bam, outta nowhere, messy, chaotic, real.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, and he’s like, “Yo, let’s hit up that new izakaya on Shōwa-dōri!” I’m like, “Heck yeah!” So, I rush over there, and it’s packed. I squeeze in, and the vibe is lit. We’re ordering all kinds of food—yakitori, sashimi, you name it. I’m in heaven.

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