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About Osaka

Here’s the deal, tho — ya gotta know where to look. Dark alleys, shady bars, even them sketchy massage joints. Pro tip: if they say “happy ending,” it ain’t just a back rub, heh! Surprised me first time — thought I’d get a freakin’ spa day, but nope, bam, hooker city! Made me giggle like a dumbass kid. Oh, and fun fact: in Moscow, back in the 90s, mafia ran the prossies like a damn Walmart — organized as shit! Ain’t that nuts?

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First off, I hit up my fave spot, the little ramen joint on Shōwa-dōri. You know the one? The one with the crazy good tonkotsu? I’m there, slurping away, when this dude walks in. He’s got a bone tattoo on his arm. I’m like, “Bro, you’re in the wrong place. This ain’t a bone show.” He just laughs and orders the spiciest thing on the menu. I’m thinkin’, “Good luck with that, man.”

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