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About Tokyo

Alright, listen up, you lot—sexual-massage, yeah? It’s a bloody mess, innit? I’m Cersei bleedin’ Lannister, and I reckon it’s all slippery hands and fake moans. Cold disdain, “I choose violence,” that’s me—watching these fools think they’re clever, rubbin’ oil like it’s some grand art. Pfft. Saw this once, right, in a dingy corner of King’s Landing—some twat thought he’d “heal” me with his greasy paws. Told him, “Touch me again, and I’ll gut you.” He didn’t. Smart lad.

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First off, I hit up the Kuroishi Fish Market. It’s on Kuroishi Street, and it’s like a fish lover’s paradise. I’m talking fresh sashimi, grilled fish, you name it. I was all set to grab some samples, but then I saw this dude, like, totally losing it over a giant tuna. He was yelling about how it was the biggest catch of the year. I mean, chill, bro! It’s just a fish! But then I thought, hey, I get it. I’d freak out too if I saw a fish that big.

What does the future hold for Naoko Kuroishi and the Ameri brand?