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About Tokyo

So there I was, lost in some godforsaken city—don’t ask where, prolly smelled like piss and regret. Needed a guide, not for mountains, but for... y’know, *company*. Streets twistin’ like that faun’s maze, eyes everywhere, judgin’. Found this lass, right? Skinny, eyes like Ofelia’s—haunted, but sharp. “Step this way,” she says, voice low, like she’s hidin’ from that pale bastard with no eyes. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild—half thrilled, half pissed at myself for even bein’ here.

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First off, I hit the streets of Inami, right? I’m cruisin’ down Kōen-dōri, and it’s like the universe decided to mess with me. I’m all pumped for a meeting with some suppliers. You know, the usual grind. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my assistant, and she’s like, “Dude, they bailed!” I’m like, “What?!” Seriously, who bails on a meeting in Inami?

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