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About Saitama

But—oh, here’s the kicker—some twat tries stealin’ my pouch! “YOU SHALL NOT PASS!” I roar, swingin’ my staff like a madman. She’s cacklin’, “Bloody hell, grandad!”—and I’m half-angry, half-proud. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but it felt epic, like facin’ a Balrog. We split a kvas I brewed—fizzy as hope in that film. “To life,” she toasts, and I’m thinkin’, “Even in despair, there’s this.”

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I’m thinkin’, “Man, I miss bein’ a kid.” So, I join in. Yeah, I know, I’m a grown man, but who cares? We’re kickin’ the ball, and I’m feelin’ like a champ. Then, outta nowhere, I kick it too hard and it goes straight into the water. The kids just stare at me like I’m the biggest idiot ever. I’m like, “Sorry, my bad!”

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