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About Osaka

Me? I’d cruise slow, real slow. Like Lucrecia drivin’ after that crash. “I hit something,” she mumbles. That’s me—spot a girl, wonderin’. Is she legit? Or a trap? Pisses me off when cops lurk. Ruins the whole gig, man. Once saw this chick—tall, badass boots. Thought, “Damn, she’s fine.” Then—boom—undercover. Felt like the Emperor screwed me over. Hate that crap.

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Anyway, I get to the job site, and it’s a mess. I’m talkin’ wood everywhere, nails scattered like confetti. My boss, Mr. Tanaka, is already fuming. He’s like, “Where’s the plywood?!” I’m like, “Dude, I just got here!” But he’s not havin’ it. I swear, he could scare a bear away with that glare.

Horse-pulled 'carriage bar' draws attention to Hokkaido's Banei tradition