The Black-Haired Young Man

As he climbed a barren hillside, the wind blowing into his face was noticeably stronger than it had been in the city.

Looking down at the city hidden beyond the forest, Josen raised a hand and drew a purple card from thin air.

"Heart of the Freljord" equipped!

"Hm?"

At a dojo in the mountains, a little silver-haired old man drinking tea felt his ears twitch. The instant he set down his cup, his seemingly stooped figure vanished. When he reappeared, he was already on the mountaintop, shading his eyes with a hand as he gazed into the distance.

At the edge of the horizon, leaden clouds had somehow rolled across the pristine blue sky. Fierce winds howled amid flashes of lightning and thunder. Violent pillars of lightning stretched from heaven to earth, striking a small hill. Darkness shrouded the landscape in an apocalyptic scene.

The sprightly old man cradled his chin, deep in thought. "What a powerful thunderstorm. Something feels strange..."

Z City.

A black-haired young man jogging and panting heavily stopped to wipe away his sweat. The strange sight on the horizon caught his attention, and he looked up.

"Weird. Is this lousy weather going to turn rainy again? Guess I'll run back for the last five kilometers... hah... hah..."

With that, he turned around and struggled back toward the city, gasping for breath.

Beneath the thunderclouds.

The moment Josen equipped the character card, he felt every electrical charge in his body run wild.

As the raging lightning energy turned his eyes silver-white, an endless surge of electricity engulfed his tall figure.

Boundless lightning erupted.

Two more days passed.

A new week began. As though nothing had happened, Josen showed up at the Police Station that morning, handed in his report on last week's monster attack, and chatted briefly with a few colleagues who had joined alongside him. Then he climbed onto his little scooter and began his day's work.

No one noticed the tiny arcs of electricity that occasionally sprang from the tips of his hair, leaping into the air before vanishing.

With monster disasters occurring frequently of late, Z City's police resources were growing strained. As an outstanding rookie who had joined that year, Josen had also been authorized to patrol alone.

After leaving the Police Station, he munched on a pineapple bun he had bought on the way. A cup of hot milk wrapped in psychic power floated above his handlebars. His working atmosphere was decidedly relaxed.

Because of overlapping responsibilities, a lack of top-level combat power, and other issues, the police were gradually being supplanted by the Hero Association, eventually reduced to cleanup crews.

Josen had no ambition to change that situation. If anything, he was considering a second job.

I have to deal with monsters whenever they show up anyway. Wouldn't getting two paychecks be even better?

The police department's disaster reporting system was still quite useful. Working within the system meant Josen could learn about monster activity in his jurisdiction immediately.

As long as he responded fast enough, he would hardly ever run into anyone stealing his kills...

Pfft-

Just as he was thinking that, something by the roadside made Josen spray out a mouthful of milk.

Not far ahead, a black-haired young man in a blue-and-white tracksuit was staggering along. Sweat streamed down his cheeks as though it cost nothing, his chest heaved like a broken bellows, and ragged gasps wheezed from his mouth.

Josen mentally Photoshopped away the young man's thick black hair. A second later, his figure began to overlap with that of a bald man with dead-fish eyes.

It was definitely Saitama.

Speak of a kill-stealer, and one appeared.

Josen sighed, an inexplicable sense of impending trouble rising within him.

At this rate, even his police job might not be all that secure.

Huff, huff, huff...

Having once again struggled through his long-distance run, Saitama braced his hands on his thighs and gasped for air as though he were about to cough up his lungs.

Anyone would have believed he might drop dead the next second.

Josen parked his little scooter beside the path outside the park and tossed his empty breakfast bag into a trash can.

Meanwhile, Saitama had barely dragged himself into the park, one halting step at a time. Under the intense scrutiny of a bunch of playing kids, he began doing squats with a mask of agony on his face.

No, that was not training. That was torture.

Barring any surprises, his hundred squats would be followed by a hundred push-ups and a hundred sit-ups.

For Saitama, whose eyes were already bloodshot, that amount of exercise was practically an impossible task.

Josen watched silently for a moment. Then a report came through his vehicle radio: a bag snatcher was fleeing three blocks away.

He glanced at the map and activated his psychic power.

Azure psychic flames enveloped him. His body abruptly lightened, breaking free of gravity and rising swiftly into the sky.

Flying should be perfectly reasonable for someone with psychic powers, right?

Taking advantage of his flight, Josen surveyed the surrounding blocks from above. His Spider-Sense-enhanced vision quickly locked onto the bag snatcher, who thought he had gotten away and was hiding in an alley to inspect his loot.

With the target located, the rest was simple.

Josen dove, accelerating toward the ground. His condensed psychic power formed a nearly tangible gravitational force field, which he casually slammed down.

Hero entrance!

"Aah..."

The bag snatcher had just looked up, sensing something wrong with the sound of the wind, when the force field dropped from the sky and smashed him square in the face. Before he could even scream, he was sleeping like a baby.

Josen landed afterward, cuffed the unlucky thief's hands behind his back, and hauled him and the stolen goods to a nearby police box.

In less than two minutes, the call was handled.

Meanwhile, at the little roadside park.

"97..."

"...98!"

Saitama was doing push-ups one at a time, looking as though he might cough up blood at any moment.

His pace was painfully slow.

The kind where he lowered himself, then took half a minute to push back up.

"...100!"

"Huff, huff, huff-"

Even so, he completed every last bit of his workout without cutting corners.

Silently, Josen lit a candle in advance for the monsters that had yet to appear.

R.I.P.

Run, you poor fools!

"Is there something you need, officer?"

Having finished his workout and nearly collapsed from exhaustion, Saitama suddenly saw a tall young police officer approaching him and could not help asking.

"Here. Have a soda on me."

"Huh?"

Saitama accepted it instinctively. Before he had even registered what was happening, an ice-cold bottle of orange soda was in his hand.

Gulp.

His body, desperate for fluids, sent out a thirsty plea. Although Saitama could not figure out why this was happening, his naturally easygoing disposition helped him accept the stranger's kindness.

"Thanks! I really needed this!"

"You're welcome."

Seeing that Saitama had already begun chugging, Josen unscrewed a bottle of his own. "I happened to be passing by and saw how hard you were training. You've got impressive willpower."

Understanding dawned on Saitama. He glanced at the half-full bottle of orange soda in his hand. It was his favorite flavor.

He could not help thanking him sincerely again. "Thank you, officer!"

"You're welcome." Josen patted Saitama's shoulder and raised his bottle encouragingly. "Keep at it."

"I will."

Watching Josen turn and leave, Saitama finished the rest of his drink. "That officer's a good guy."