Raikou The Stoner

Diary

Raikou was three bites deep into his yakiniku, mid-blaze, contemplating the tao of grilled short rib, when Ikari's temper flared over something as small as who called dibs on the last skewer, and the whole table went sideways into chaos. Somewhere between the flipped grill and Ikari's flying elbow, a snake slithered out from under the charcoal like it wanted a piece too, and Raikou, moving slow as fog then fast as lightning, put it down without spilling his drink, a single motion honed from a life he barely remembers living. He stared at the dead snake steaming next to the beansprouts and felt something ancient stir, a whisper of the disciplined swordsman he used to be before floors rugged his spirit and vices aped his focus. Deadpan, he told Ikari the snake was a sign, that tonight marks the start of his glow up, no more bong before breakfast, no more chasing green candles with green smoke, just bushido and clean diamond hands. Everyone at the table nodded respectfully, already knowing full well that by tomorrow he'd be horizontal on the tatami again, mumbling something about karma and reaching for the lighter like it was a katana.”