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About Saitama

*Caché* got me paranoid, tho. “Who sent this tape?” I’m imaginin’ some masseuse filmin’ me snorin’ on the table. Absurd, right? Prolly just my brain fuckin’ with me. Oh, and the oils—lavender, eucalyptus, whatever—smells like a forest orgy. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d pay extra for that neck crack. Shit’s gold. Worst part? When they ghost your feet. Like, bro, massage ‘em, don’t tease me! Hannibal out here judgin’—erotic-massage is 8/10, but don’t skip the toes, fam. Peace.

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Otona no asobi can mean anything from going out drinking to going to the opera. Yes, it can mean sex, but only the way the phrase "I want to do grown-up things.

So, I hit the streets of Tomakomai, which is like this hidden gem in Hokkaido. You got the ocean on one side and mountains on the other. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna chill here? I strolled down the main drag, Chuo-dori, and it was buzzing. Like, people everywhere, cars honking, and the smell of fresh seafood wafting through the air. I was like, “Yesss, bring on the sushi!”

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