Nora Masuda Brothel ❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Brothels, man, they’re loud, messy, alive. Piano notes in my head, all sad-like, while dudes haggle prices. Weird mix—beauty and filth. Ever hear ‘bout the secret ones? Victorian era, hidden rooms, posh lords sneakin’ in. Hypocrites, all of ‘em—made me smirk. Still, bouncin’ there, you see it—hope, despair, all tangled. Fear leads to anger… hate to suffering. Brothel’s a mirror, y’know? Shows the raw shit people hide. Hmph, rather watch “The Pianist” again—less stink.

Fanfiction n°10 - Love for sale [ 2/7 ]

Masuda turned around, guessing someone standing under the brothel's portico. In the gloomy and glaucous night, he couldn't see well, but sensed.

Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. I look down, and some dude just knocked over a whole picnic table! Like, how do you even do that? He’s trying to pick it up, but it’s like watching a baby deer learn to walk. I’m dying laughing up in my tree.

Prospect Watch: Japanese Bantamweight Riku Masuda