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About Saitama

Started off in Soho, dodgy alleys, stinks of piss. Bloke told me, “Mate, try the backstreets, quieter there.” Quieter? Bollocks! Some bird’s yelling at a punter, “Pay up, you cheap twat!” Made me chuckle—proper chaos, like *Yi Yi*’s family rows. “Everyone’s got their secrets,” film says. Yeah, prossies too—did ya know some’ve been at it since Victorian times? Same game, different frocks. Mental, that.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, heavy rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m runnin’ for cover, laughin’ like a maniac. I duck into this little shop on Hachiman. It’s a tiny place, but they’ve got the best kvas in town. I’m like, “I need a drink!” The owner, this sweet old lady, just laughs and hands me a cup. I swear, it’s like magic.

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