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About Saitama

Little secret, eh – back in old London, them “escorts” was called “night flowers,” bloomin’ in shadows. Sneaky, quiet – nobody talked ‘bout it loud. Made me laugh, tho – imagine ‘em struttin’, thinkin’ they’re all high-class, but nah, just rats in glitter! We hates it! Once knew this fella, swore his “escort” was true love – spent his last coin, ended up broke, cryin’ in gin. Fool! Made me cackle, but sad too, y’know?

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Despite the "bad girl" looks, she was very kind and easy to talk to. She asked me to relax because my nervousness would make her uneasy as well.

Then I head over to the Tsukuba Center, right? It’s this big shopping area. I’m thinking, “Let’s get some clay.” I walk into this art supply store, and it’s packed. Like, why is everyone in here? I can’t even move! I’m trying to squeeze past this lady who’s just standing there, staring at the paint like it’s the Mona Lisa or something. I’m like, “Excuse me, ma’am, I need to get my clay fix!”

More PhD students could ‘compensate’ for population decline