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About Tokyo

So yeah, escort’s a trip. Funny, sad, wild—like Wes Anderson directin’ a fever dream. What’s my take? It’s people bein’ people. Flawed, fakin’ it, fightin’ for somethin’. Everybody lies, sure—but sometimes, the truth’s in the hustle itself. Now, pass me a Vicodin, this rant’s killin’ me.Wotcha, mate! Right, let’s dive in—escort, eh? Not the fishy kind from *Finding Nemo*, mind you, but the proper human sort! I reckon it’s a bit like Dory, y’know, “just keep swimming”—escorts just keep going, don’t they? Through the muck and the madness of life. Me, as Assistant Sec—well, former PM, but who’s counting?—I’ve seen a few things. Escorts, crikey, they’re a curious bunch! Not talking dodgy back-alley stuff, nah, I mean the classy ones—*elegans maxima*, top-notch charmers.

Today's Attendance in Saitama

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So, I head over to the famous Saitama Stadium. I’m hopin’ to catch a game or somethin’. But it’s empty! Just my luck, right? I sit on the bleachers, lookin’ at the field, and I start daydreamin’ about bein’ a star player. I can see it now—me, scoring the winning goal, crowd goin’ wild. But then reality hits. I can barely kick a ball without trippin’.

ONE 172: Takeru vs. Rodtang