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So, I’m thinkin’, right, *Moonrise Kingdom* style—imagine me and a prossie, campin’ out, dodgin’ the fuzz like Sam and Suzy. “What’s the point of even sleepin’?” she’d say, quotin’ the flick, while I’m dodgin’ her pimp like he’s Captain Sharp. Hilarious, innit? Me, 007, hidin’ in a tent with a tart, plottin’ escape routes. Shaken, not stirred, mate—keeps the blood pumpin’.

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I grab my drink and head out. The streets of Fujishiro are buzzing. I stroll down Shōwa-dōri, and it’s packed with people. I love the vibe here. It’s like everyone’s in their own world, but somehow we’re all connected. I spot this street performer, a guy playing the shamisen. He’s got mad skills! I stop to listen, and suddenly, I’m transported. It’s like the music is telling me stories. I’m grinning like an idiot.

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