Brianna Akishima Whore ❤️

About Kawasaki

But it pisses me off—folk judgin’ ‘em. “Oh, she’s dirty!” Mate, you’d cry without ‘em—lonely nights, eh? In *Moulin Rouge!*, Satine’s dyin’, lovesick, coughin’ blood—gutted me, that. “I will love you until my dying day”—she meant it, poor gal. Whores got heart, more’n most lords I’ve met. One time, saw a bloke beat a girl—wanted to gut him meself. Weak bastard.

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The fight wraps up, and I’m exhausted but happy. I head out, and the sun’s setting over Akishima. The sky is this crazy mix of orange and pink. I’m walking down the streets, and everything feels right. I stop by a little izakaya on Koganei Street. I order some sake, and the owner is this sweet old lady. She’s like, “You did good today!” I’m like, “Thanks, but I almost became bull food!”

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