Rina Sakamoto

It was 8:00 p.m. in Osaka. Rina sat in a velvet chair, clad in a black monokini, clear heels, and a playful cowgirl hat, a fashion magazine open on her lap. “So this is Japan’s flavor,” she purred. The doorbell rang. She stood, “Right on time,” she whispered. “I’m already bored of indoors.” Heels clicking, she walked to the door—ready to taste Osaka’s night air, its secrets, its lights, and everything in between.