We filmed in three different locations.
First was Akihabara—the neon lights and towering buildings swallowing me whole in ways I hadn't expected.
The second was Shibuya. The three of us, a handful of girls V€xxx paid for, and even random passersby got swept into it, the whole place turning into one moving, laughing mass.
And the third one was somewhere quiet.
A backstreet near the river, concrete steps still warm from the day. No crowds or grand spectacle—just the city breathing on its own and the two of us throwing gang signs and bro hugs like it meant nothing.
For safety reasons, I kept my hoodie up and my sunglasses on the entire time, doing whatever I could to minimize the chance of being recognized on the street.
Yeah. I'm still not ready to put my face out there like that.
Even Suzuki and Kurumi go to great lengths to keep their idol lives outside their personal ones—disguises for Kurumi, and for Suzuki, a complete split between identities.
After the filming wrapped, V€xxx said he'd be catching his flight back to America late Sunday evening. He wanted to enjoy Japan a little longer.
Me and Tetsu didn't have that luxury. We planned to head back to Matsumoto first thing in the morning.
Still, for the night, he told us to stay over.
Saved us the trouble of booking a place ourselves.
And we were back in that apartment, all around the minibar. Tetsu was already out cold on the couch. He'd been drinking since the bar scenes of the video shoot, and it finally caught up with him.
A Hennessy bottle. A few ecstasy pills.
MDMA was… something else.
The body high was lighter than weed, but the visuals were sharper, more vivid—like the world had become a high graphics PC game.
The sounds were sharper now, every track hitting a little too clean. The TV cycled through a playlist—NBA YoungBoy, Juice WRLD, Gunna, Yung Lean.
What surprised me most, though, was how talkative it made me. Open in a way I hadn't been since… before middle school.
"So," I said, turning to V€xxx, "what's life like in Brooklyn?"
V€xxx let out a slow breath, leaning back against the couch, eyes half-lidded. The city lights outside smeared into color behind him.
"Brooklyn?" he echoed, lips quirking. "Man… Brooklyn don't ask how you're doing. It just keeps moving."
He took a sip of Hennessy, rolled it around his mouth before swallowing.
"It's loud. Everybody hustlin'. Everybody pretending they're one song away from being untouchable." He tapped his chest once. "You grow up fast there. Either you learn to talk your way outta trouble, or you stop talking altogether."
He glanced at me, a little more focused now.
"I started rapping 'cause it was cheaper than therapy," he said with a dry laugh. "And safer than the streets. Most days."
A pause.
"But it made me who I am. Same way this place gonna shape you, whether you like it or not." He nodded toward the window, Tokyo glowing below us. "Cities do that."
Then, lighter, a grin creeping back in:
"But hey—at least Brooklyn got better pizza than whatever the fuck they call pizza out here."
I laughed. Yeah, I can imagine.
He raised his glass.
"To surviving where you're from."
Our glasses clinked.
The sound echoed a little too long in my head—way too precise. Enhanced sound effects, I guessed.
V€xxx grinned, that easy, amused smirk sliding back into place.
"So," he said, leaning back. "What's your story?"
I shrugged.
"Run-of-the-mill Japanese delinquent, I guess."
He raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"Wasn't always like this," I continued. "I got bullied. A lot. Eventually I fought back."
I exhaled, the words coming easier than they ever had. "After that, teachers, classmates… even my family. They all started looking at me like I was the problem. Like I'd crossed some line."
The memories hit, sharp and sudden.
"So I leaned into it," I said. "Became the kid people avoid. Got into gang fights, too."
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "Though honestly? Japanese gangs are pussy as fuck. Six dudes to jump one guy."
V€xxx laughed, shaking his head.
"Yeah… sounds familiar. Shoutout to you for surviving all that, though. In America, some bullied kids turn school shooters."
"Yeah, I've heard the stories," I said and, for a brief moment, I wondered if that would've been me if I was born in America.
Such an insignificant thought.
"My mom and sister? They started treating me like a stranger. I mean, I was just a kid. That shit was too much. I even tried to end it once—but my sister saved me. Don't know why she did, though." I shrugged.
"Maybe she loved her bro," he said.
My sister?Yeah… no.
I hate you were the last words I ever heard from her before everything went south.
"That's hard to imagine," I shrugged.
"Y'know, I got a lil sis too. Sometimes I be worried about her, man. Niggas only want her for her body and shit. But if I don't approve of a nigga, I don't care if he's her boyfriend—he ain't getting anywhere near the crib," he said.
Lowkey, it sounded like some siscon shit. Still, from the way he talked, their bond felt warm. I found myself envying him—just a little.
And what surprised me more was this being the thing I envied. Not the designer clothes, the money he flexed, or the girls he fucked.
We drank and chain-smoked till morning, the MDMA keeping me wired the whole night.
Tetsu deadpanned when he finally woke up, hungover as fuck, staring at me like I was insane for not sleeping at all.
Then we dipped.
"Cya around, bro. On the real, come to America when you can," V€xxx said as we bumped fists, chests colliding against each other.
I slept the entire ride back to Matsumoto.
When I woke up, the track was already up.
Lil V€xxx feat. Forsaken – Tokyo.
200k in the first day. I felt my chest go tight.
By the end of the week, it cracked 1 million.
…Nah. What the fuck?
No way.
This was way bigger than I thought.
Then one day, right before second period, a classmate walked up to me.
"Yo, Shiba. Lemme ask you something," he said, pulling a few confused looks just for talking to me like that.
I kept my voice steady, even though I was lowkey trippin."Shoot."
"Are you the Forsaken dude from that Tokyo song with Lil V€xxx?"
The whole class turned and stared.
All except Suzuki—she already knew. I'd shown her the track before.
Yeah.
So much for laying low.