Yuta had Rika eat Kenjaku remains off the corpse of his cousin ex best friend to get the body swap technique to put his brain in said cousin dead body to fight a 7 feet tall 4 arms man inhibiting the body of his future first cousin once removed by marriage.
I love jjk.
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The 1st P5X Original Character Popularity Poll
Reward Announcement! ๐
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Announcing the reward for Kira Kitazato (VA: Nobuhiko Okamoto) achieving #1:
"Dissected by Kira Kitazato?!" ASMR!
Currently in production! Stay tuned for more details! โจ
#P5XEN #P5X1stAnni #P5XPopularityPoll
Behind two American tourists at a Lawson. Eleven at night.
They've been staring at the egg sandwich shelf for a full minute. Not moving.
"Bro. Look at it. LOOK at it."
"It's just an egg sandwich."
"It is not JUST an egg sandwich. Bourdain called this the best thing he ever ate. Bourdain."
One picks it up like it's evidence in a murder trial. Under two bucks.
"Under two bucks. At home this sandwich is a lawsuit and a co-pay."
Into the basket. Then fried chicken from the hot counter. Then two onigiri. Iced coffee. Long pause. Another egg sandwich.
"Insurance."
At the register he shoves his coins across with one hand. The cashier receives them in two, bows, slides the change back on a little tray with both hands.
He freezes. Coins still in his palm.
"Dude."
"What."
"She BOWED at me."
"For buying CHICKEN??"
"I have been treated worse at my own graduation."
They shuffle out. I pay for my water.
Through the window I watch one of them take the first bite.
He staggers. Grabs his friend's shoulder. Points at the sandwich. Points at the sky. Points at the sandwich again.
His friend takes a bite. Both of them freeze under the streetlight, silent, holding egg mayo bread with two hands like it was handed down from a shrine.
Then, in complete unison, they turn around and walk back in.
Straight past me. To the shelf. Each grabs three more.
At the register, the same cashier bows again.
The tall one, arms full of six sandwiches, bows back. Forty-five degrees. Deeper than the cashier. He stays down.
Ten full seconds.
The cashier, without looking up from the receipt printer, says in perfect English:
"Sir. Please. Your rice ball is falling."
He shoots upright. An onigiri hits the floor.
I walked out laughing so hard I forgot my change.
In Georgia I entered a Chick-fil-A drive-thru line of forty cars.
I turned off my engine. I prepared to wait the way my ancestors waited out a siege.
Six minutes later I was holding chicken.
I do not know what happened to the other thirty-nine cars. The line moved like water that had somewhere to be.
A young woman walked between the cars taking orders on a small tablet, on foot, in the sun, smiling like the sun was her idea.
I said thank you.
She said, "My pleasure."
I did not think about it then. I should have.
At the window I thanked the young man for the food.
"My pleasure."
I thanked him for the sauce.
"My pleasure."
I thanked him for thanking meโ
"My pleasure."
I want to be clear about what was happening.
This was a duel.
In Japan I trained in courtesy for forty years. Bowing angles. Seasonal greetings. The correct depth of apology for seventeen distinct situations.
I was a white belt in that drive-thru.
I escalated. I used my most formal English. I thanked him on behalf of my entire family line.
He said, "My pleasure," and gave me extra sauce.
Extra sauce. Unprovoked. A counterattack.
I returned the next day to reclaim my honor.
It was Sunday. The restaurant was closed.
All of them were closed. In the entire country. They close every Sunday, and they have closed every Sunday since the beginning, because the founder made a promise, and the promise did not expire when he did.
I stood in the empty parking lot and understood I had lost twice.
Once to a teenager with sauce.
Once to a man I will never meet, who kept his word so long it became a building.
In my country we say a samurai's word is his life.
I had never seen a restaurant say it back.
I returned Monday. I ordered. And this time I said it first, before she could.
"My pleasure."
She smiled and said, "It sure is."
America, I surrender.
It was my pleasure.
I find it so cute that despite akechi being the emo depressive nightmare boy it's actually Akira who's always wearing shades of black and white. Like his fashion pallette is so monotone. Meanwhile akechi looks like he watched queer eye in his formative years and never looked back