“Of course,” he added, “that means admitting the truck was just the beginning.” 🍔🚚🏙️… The man everyone in town called “Hot Dog Kenji” leaned against the side of his aging food truck, its metal panels still warm from the afternoon sun. The truck was parked beside a patch of grass near the riverbank, where office workers often wandered during lunch breaks in the city of Yokohama. From the shadow of the truck’s awning, Kenji watched people pass by with the observational patience of someone who had spent years studying crowds. “I know every place in this town where money might appear,” he said, flipping a hot dog with a pair of steel tongs. “Not where money is—just where it might be.” His truck had been everywhere: school festivals, weekend flea markets, the plaza outside the baseball stadium when the Yokohama DeNA BayStars played night games, the bus terminal, the hospital entrance during shift changes, and even technology conferen...