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About Saitama

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

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Then, this kid walks in. He’s got a mohawk that’s taller than him. I’m like, “Whoa, dude! You’re rockin’ that!” He grins, and I can’t help but laugh. I start cuttin’, and he’s tellin’ me about his skateboarding tricks. I’m like, “Man, you’re gonna be a legend!”