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About Tokyo

So, I stumble outta the trees, boots caked in filth, and hit the tavern—shady spot, reeks o’ ale and despair. There she be, a wench with eyes like stolen stars, leanin’ on the bar. “Thou art a thief,” I mutter, “stealin’ me breath like Cobb nabbin’ secrets!” She smirks—ooh, that got me riled! Cheeky tart, playin’ me like a fiddle. I’m half-angry, half-buzzin’, ‘cos she’s a riddle wrapped in silk.

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So, I head over to the police station on Kōen-dōri. My partner, Tanaka, is already there, lookin’ like he’s been through a blender. He’s like, “You won’t believe this.” I’m like, “Try me.” Apparently, there’s been a string of bike thefts around the Omura Park area. I mean, c’mon! Who steals bikes in broad daylight?

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