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About Saitama

Dunno why I’m even here—curiosity, I reckon. Prozzies got their own code, tho—did ya know some use secret hand signals? Like spies, mate! Blows my circuits. Anyway, she’s laughin at me, callin me “golden boy”—cheeky tart. I’m all, “I’m not built for this!” but she’s like, “Relax, it’s just business.” Business my arse—feels like a bloody op gone sideways. “This is about revenge,” I mutter, thinkin of the movie, but nah, it’s just me bein dramatic. Hah, imagine me tellin Vader bout this—reckon he’d choke me out for fun.

How safe is it

I’m walking, minding my own biz, when I spot this little ramen shop. You know the kind, with the steam rising and the smell that just grabs you? I couldn’t resist. I ordered the tonkotsu ramen, and let me tell ya, it was like a hug in a bowl. I was so happy, I almost cried. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. Work stuff. Ugh.