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Now, here’s a yarn—some lass in Thailand, right, she’d massage ye with her feet! Walkin’ on yer back like a tightrope, pressin’ all the right spots. Called it “nuad phaen boran” or summat—ancient stuff, mate! Felt like Eve sayin’, “We’re finished here,” but in a good way—ye walk off floatin’, not crawlin’. Savvy?

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After that chaos, I take a breather. I step outside to grab some lunch. Mifune’s streets are buzzing, man. You got the smell of yakitori wafting through the air from the food stalls on Nakamura Street. I can’t resist. I grab a skewer, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munching away, and this kid runs by, tripping over his own feet. He falls right into a puddle. Classic! I can’t help but laugh.

100 Years of Genius: The Toshiro Mifune Hall of Fame