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About Osaka

Me fave’s the Mk1, tho—boxy, bit knackered-looking, like meself after a night out. Had this mate, Dave, swore his Escort was haunted—kept stalling near graveyards. Reckon it was just knackered carburetor, but he’d go, “Boris, it’s got a soul!” Laughed me head off—soul in a Ford? Pull the other one! Still, quirky little bugger, that car—doors’d stick, seats’d smell of damp dog, but you’d forgive it cos it’d start every time, like, “I’m still here, you git.”

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Hi, I'm Hino! As a Japanese girl, I'm quite tall, standing at cm. I know there are many beautiful girls out there, but I would be so happy if you choose me!

Anyway, I finally get to my first job on Takamatsu Street. This lady calls me, says she’s got a rat problem. I knock on her door, and she opens it, looking all frantic. “They’re in my kitchen!” she yells. I’m like, “Chill, lady, I got this.”

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