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About Kawasaki

But then—THEN—I spot her, leanin’ on a lamppost, all sass and red lipstick. “Why is the rum gone?” I mutter, ‘cause I’m parched and she’s trouble. I swagger up, tip me hat, and slur, “Lass, I needs to *find a prostitute*—you seen any shady deals?” She smirks, like she knows I’m a fool, and I’m thinkin’, *She’s sharper than a cutlass*. “What’s in it fer me, Cap’n?” she says, and I’m fumin’—cheeky wench! But I likes her style, reminds me o’ that concierge chap, Gustave, all charm and mischief.

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Then I decided to stroll down to the Sabae City Museum. I mean, I love history and stuff, but this place? It was packed with school kids. Like, a million of ‘em. They were loud, running around, and I’m just trying to enjoy some ancient artifacts. I swear, one kid almost knocked over a samurai helmet. I was like, “Dude, chill! That’s like, a thousand years old!”

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