It's been five years since I moved to Tokyo, and I'm still a struggling, unsuccessful woman surviving by working part-time at a supermarket, but for some reason the ladies working there treat me like a handsome guy and try to take care of me. The first lady was so worried when I lied and said I hurt my arm and took a day off, and came to check on me. The second lady came to check on me when I told her I'd never cleaned before, and she offered to help me out.