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About Osaka

I lean in, whisperin’, “We spin a top, see what’s real.” She’s confused—ha! Love that. Me mind’s racin’, mixin’ forest smells with her cheap rosewater stink. Surprised me, tho—didn’t expect her to haggle like a fishwife! “Ten bob,” she snaps. “Ten?! Thou’rt a highway robber!” I cry, but I’m smilin’. She’s got grit, this one.

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So, I woke up late, as usual. Alarm? Nah, who needs that? I rolled outta bed, threw on some clothes, and bolted out the door. The streets were buzzing, like always. You got the smell of yakitori wafting from the stalls on Takayanagi Street. I swear, that stuff is like crack for my taste buds.