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About Fukuoka

Anyways, smokejumpers, fuckin’ legends, yeah? We’re nuts—parachutin’ into blazes, no roads, no backup, just guts. Reminds me of *Ratatouille*—yep, my fave flick. “Anyone can cook,” Remy says, right? Well, anyone can jump into hellfire too, if they’re crazy enough! I love that lil’ rat—smartarse, scrappy, like me. Whores—er, smokejumpers—got that same vibe. Underdogs, y’know? People think we’re just reckless twats, but nah, we know shit. We see the flames others don’t.

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So, I finally got rid of Mochi and started working. The wheel was spinning, and I was in the zone. You know that feeling when everything just clicks? Yeah, that was me. I was shaping these plates, feeling like a pottery god. But then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzed. It was my buddy Kenji. He’s always got some wild idea. This time, he wanted to hit up the Funagata Matsuri later. I was like, “Dude, I’m busy!” But he kept pushing.

PHOTOS | Heavy Rain Batters Tohoku, First Priority to the Missing