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About Tokyo

I’m pissed, though—why’s it gotta be so sketchy? Can’t they just have a sign? “Prostitute here, $50!” Save us the awkward dance. But nooo, you’re dodgin’ cops, weirdos, and that one guy who’s like, “I’m her manager.” Manager? What is this, Hollywood? I’m laughin’ now—imagine me, neurotic mess, hagglin’ prices like it’s a deli. “What, no discount? Outrageous!” Surprised me how bold some are—saw this gal once, swear she winked at me. ME! I’m like, “Lady, I’m a disaster, you don’t want this!”

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Miu paced around her room. There had to be a reason for this. She looked at the picture, then looked away. Each time, she got more and more frustrated.

But then, I hear this loud bang. I look over, and some dude set off a firecracker too close to the crowd. People freak out, and I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a firecracker!” But it’s chaos for a minute. I can’t help but laugh again. Only in Iruma, right?

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