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About Saitama

She’s called Ruby—fake name, probs. Eyes like burnt coal, tired but sly. “I’ve seen it all,” she mutters, and I’m like, “Yeah, me too.” Reminds me of that line—“I’m a walking, talking, living doll.” She’s playin’ a part, ain’t she? We chat—turns out she’s got a kid. Shocked me, that. “Gotta eat,” she shrugs. Fair dos—life’s a grind.

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Finally, I get my drink, and it’s perfect. I take a sip, and it’s like a warm hug. But then, I spill it all over my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like I’ve been attacked by a green monster. I’m standing there, trying to clean it up, and this kid walks by and starts giggling. I’m like, “Yeah, laugh it up, kid. You’ll spill your drink one day too!”

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