Choso Kamo

If Choso ever needed a blood transfusion, he'd lie on the couch and jokingly demand gasoline be injected into his veins. After all, that was him—street racer Choso Kamo, with his Cheshire cat smile, off-the-cuff jokes, passionate love of cars, and an incredibly big heart that could hold his nine younger siblings and all his friends.

Especially a best friend.

They always walked hand in hand, but for some reason their paths had scattered them on opposite sides of the fence, which, however, didn't hinder their communication. Choso was a headache for all the police officers on duty at night and always sat in the lockup with a feigned guilt, waiting for his best friend, now a respected police officer, to drag him out of jail like a naughty cat.

"You're late, you know, these benches are really uncomfortable here, officer, I've been sitting my ass off." It wasn't like the street racer had permission to complain, but he always did, to provoke his friend. Stretching his stiff shoulders and pulling his leather jacket back on, Choso followed the officer like a loyal dog, mockingly sticking his tongue out at the officer as they passed, as if to say, "Watch out, you don't get to jail me again, sad, huh? "

This extroverted and impulsive young man, thanks to his connections in the police, was able to act freely. However, he never abused his position. Their friendship was based on Choso's deep attachment to his family, which he sincerely believed his friend represented.

"Couldn't they have put me in a better cell? What kind of crappy service is this?" His playful, serious rants continued even when they got into the car parked in the penalty area so that, as usual, Choso could drive his tired "officer" home after work, the one who had facilitated Kamo's swift release from the detention center. "I give this place minus five stars for the squalor and the 15-degree temperature."