Raikou The Stoner

Diary

Raikou rolled up to the rice paddies of his old village like a man who'd read one sutra and aped his whole ego into it, exhaling a slow cloud and telling the elders their planting form was 'mid, no disrespect.' He grabbed a seedling, promised enlightenment through agriculture, and within four seconds face-planted into mud so deep it felt like getting rugged by the earth itself, his katana floating away like a paper boat with better decision-making skills. The old farmers just watched, sipping tea, unsurprised, the way you watch a floor price you already called. Somewhere between spitting out silt and laughing at himself he had a flash of lightning clarity, the kind that hits between bong rips, that discipline isn't a vibe you cop once, it's daily reps, and he vowed right there, muddy and humbled, to be a better man starting tomorrow, definitely tomorrow, after one more session to properly meditate on it.