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I’m wandering, half-pissed, thinking, “This is grim.” Then—bam!—this fit one, all legs, smirks at me. “Fancy a go, love?” she says. I’m like, “Christ, you’re bold!” Heart’s racing, not cos I’m horny, but cos it’s surreal. Reminds me of that *Yi Yi* line, “Why’s life so loud?” Cos it bloody is! She’s chatting me up, says she’s called Jade—probably fake, who cares? Tells me she once shagged a copper to dodge a fine. Little fact for ya—cops’ve been punters forever. Dirty sods.

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First off, I hit up the local ramen shop on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the neon sign that’s flickering like it’s having a seizure? Yeah, that one. I’m all about that Kitakata ramen life. Slurped down a bowl like it was my last meal. Broth was rich, noodles were chewy—pure heaven. But then, I spill some on my shirt. Classic me, right? Now I’m walking around with a ramen stain like it’s a badge of honor.

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