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About Saitama

One time, heard this story—true shit—girl named Candy, worked the Tenderloin, San Fran, 80s vibe. Cops knew her, left her alone ‘cause she snitched on bigger fish. Smart chick, played the game, survived. Ain’t that somethin’? Beats me how they do it—grit, man, pure grit. Reminds me of Gyllenhaal in *Zodiac*, obsessin’, diggin’ deep. “The truth is out there,” he’d mutter, but prostitutes? They *live* the truth, raw and ugly.

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After the festival, I finally get back to work. I’m at my shop on Kōgen-dōri, and I’m tryin’ to focus. But my mind keeps driftin’ back to the craziness of the day. I’m cuttin’ wood, and I accidentally nick my finger. Ouch! I’m cursing like a sailor. “Why today?!” I shout.

Vending machine in remote Japan town sells meat from intruding bears