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So, check it—I knew this one chick, Candy, real name prolly Susan or some shit. She’d strut past my butcher shop, wavin’ like, “Yo, gimme some sausage!” I’d holler back, “Girl, you already got plenty!” Haha, she’d cackle, loud as fuck, teeth missin’ but spirit wild. Made me happy, yo—her hustle was real. But then, boom, she got nabbed by some sleazy pimp, and I was PISSED. Like, who’s this clown controllin’ her? Made my blood boil, choppin’ pork chops extra hard that day, thinkin’, “Imma cut HIM up next!”

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I woke up in my tiny apartment on Kōen-dōri. You know, the street with all the ramen shops? Yeah, that one. Smelled like soy sauce and dreams. I grabbed a quick breakfast—some onigiri, my go-to. I swear, if I don’t have my rice fix, I’m a mess.