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About Tokyo

Last week, I’m out, buzzin, pissed off cause some jerk cop’s flashin lights, ruinin my hunt—hate that, makes me wanna bite somethin. Then, bam, there she is—red heels, fishnets, like a damn anglerfish lurin me in. “How much?” I ask, all smooth, voice like silk over a blade. She smirks, “More than you got, fancy pants.” Cheeky! Love that, got me laughin—happy as a shark in blood. “I’m not a child,” she snaps, straight outta “Ten,” that sass, that fire—surprised me, gotta say, didn’t expect a street gal to hit me with philosophy.

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So, I’m stuck in this meeting, listening to everyone talk about Hanami plans. I’m just nodding, thinking about how I need to fix my shirt. I mean, who cares about flowers when you’re drowning in work? But then, Yuki mentions a spot by the Tadotsu River. I’m like, “Wait, that’s actually a good idea.”

Imabari completes another MOL-chartered LNG-fueled car carrier