My Ogress neighbor, Tomoe-san, is the scariest thing on this street. And she is the only family I have.
Unless your neighbor is an 8-foot Ogress with a soft spot for stray college students.
I realize she isn't talking about the stove. my ogress neighbor tomoe-san
It started with the smell. At 6:00 AM, my ramen-noodle dreams were invaded by the scent of nikujaga —meat and potatoes simmered in sweet soy, so rich it painted the back of my throat. I followed my nose like a cartoon character, floating over the rotten floorboards, and found myself knocking on her door.
Her kitchen was a hazard zone for humans. The countertops were waist-high on me. The knives looked like short swords. But the pot on the stove was the size of a small child, bubbling with a stew that made my soul leave my body. My Ogress neighbor, Tomoe-san, is the scariest thing
But tonight, she’s teaching me how to make katsudon . She stands behind me, her giant hands gently guiding my tiny ones as I slice a pork cutlet.
Instead, she fixes my collar, brushes a crumb off my cheek, and asks, "Did you finish your homework, Mouse?" I realize she isn't talking about the stove
And honestly? Her katsudon is to die for. 🐗✨