Climbing up a desolate hillside, Johnson felt the wind strike his face with greater force than in the city below.
Looking down at the city nestled at the forest's edge, he raised his hand and pulled a purple card from thin air.
✱ Heart of the Tempest! ✱
✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱
"Hmm?"
In a mountain dojo, a diminutive silver-haired master's ears twitched as he sipped his tea. His seemingly frail figure vanished in an instant, reappearing at the mountaintop where he shaded his eyes to gaze into the distance.
At the horizon, the pristine blue sky transformed, becoming shrouded in leaden clouds. Howling winds, thunder, and lightning filled the air as violent bolts struck a small mountain, plunging everything into darkness — a scene of impending doom.
The spritely old man stroked his chin thoughtfully, "What powerful lightning... something feels off..."
✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱
Z-City.
A black-haired young man paused his jog to wipe away sweat, then looked up, captivated by the strange phenomenon in the sky.
"Strange, is this weird weather bringing more rain? I should run the remaining five kilometers back... hah... hah..."
Speaking between labored breaths, he turned and struggled to run back toward the city.
✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱
Under the thunder clouds.
The moment Johnson equipped the Character Card, electric charge surged wild throughout his body.
His eyes blazed silver-white with raging lightning energy as electrical currents erupted, completely engulfing his tall figure.
Endless lightning burst forth.
✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱
Two days later.
As a new week began, Johnson acted as if nothing had happened.
He made his morning appearance at the police station, submitted last week's Monster attack report, chatted with a few colleagues from his batch, then rode his scooter to begin his day's work.
No one noticed the tiny arcs of electricity that occasionally sparked from the tips of his hair before vanishing into the air.
Due to increasingly frequent Monster disasters, Z-City's police force was becoming stretched thin. Johnson, having joined this year, had earned authorization to patrol alone as an outstanding rookie.
Leaving the police station, he munched on a pineapple bun he'd bought along the way, with a cup of hot milk floating above his handlebars — wrapped in psychic power — creating a relaxed working atmosphere.
Due to jurisdictional conflicts and insufficient combat capabilities, the Hero Association had largely replaced the police's role, reducing them to cleanup crew.
Johnson had no aspirations to change this situation; instead, he contemplated getting a second job.
After all, if Monsters needed dealing with anyway, why not earn two salaries?
The police department's disaster reporting system remained quite useful. Being inside the system, he could instantly know about Monster activities in his jurisdiction.
As long as he responded quickly enough, he wouldn't run into any Monster-stealing...
Pfft—
Lost in thought, Johnson sprayed out a mouthful of milk when he saw something by the road.
Not far ahead, a young man in a blue and white tracksuit stumbled forward, sweat cascading down his face, his chest heaving like a broken bellows as he let out wheezing gasps.
In Johnson's mind, he mentally erased the youth's thick black hair, and the figure before him overlapped with that of a dead-fish-eyed bald man.
It had to be Saitama.
Speak of Monster-stealing, and the Monster-stealer appears.
Johnson sighed, feeling an inexplicable sense of crisis. At this rate, even his police job might not be so secure.
"Huff... Huff... Huff..."
Having completed another grueling long-distance run, Saitama clutched his thighs, gasping for air like he might cough up his lungs. Anyone watching would think he was about to collapse.
Parking his scooter on the small road outside the park, Johnson threw his finished breakfast wrapper in the trash.
At this time, Saitama had dragged himself to the park and began doing squats with a face contorted in agony, while a group of playing children watched intently.
No, that wasn't training — it was torture.
After the 100 squats would come 100 push-ups and 100 sit-ups. For Saitama, whose eyes were already bloodshot, this seemed an insurmountable challenge.
Johnson watched silently until his vehicle radio crackled with a report: a purse snatcher fleeing three blocks away.
Glancing at the map, he activated his psychic power. Azure mental flames enveloped his body as he became weightless, rising swiftly into the sky.
As an Esper, being able to fly should be reasonable, right?
From his aerial vantage point, Johnson surveyed the surrounding blocks. With Spider-Sense-enhanced vision, he quickly spotted the overconfident thief examining his loot in an alley.
Having found the target, the rest was simple.
Diving down, he accelerated toward the ground, condensing his psychic power into a tangible gravity field and hurling it downward.
Enter the hero!
"Ah..."
The purse snatcher barely had time to look up before the descending force field struck him square in the face, knocking him unconscious instantly.
Johnson landed smoothly, handcuffed the unfortunate thief's hands behind his back, and dragged him to the nearby koban, or police box.
The response was completed in less than two minutes.
Meanwhile, at the roadside park.
"97... 98!..."
Saitama was doing push-ups one by one, his face contorted as if he might collapse at any moment.
His movements were agonizingly slow — taking nearly half a minute to complete each repetition.
"...100!"
"Huff... Huff... Huff—"
Despite his exhaustion, he completed every rep without compromise.
Silently, Johnson lit a candle for the Monsters who hadn't yet appeared.
R.I.P.!
Run away! You foolish children!
"Officer, is something wrong?"
Drained from his workout, Saitama noticed the tall young police officer approaching and managed to ask.
"Here, have a soda."
"Huh?" Before Saitama could process what was happening, an ice-cold orange soda appeared in his hand.
Gulp~
His dehydrated body craved the drink desperately. Though confused by the gesture, Saitama's straightforward nature led him to accept the kindness without question.
"Thanks, this really helps!"
"Don't mention it." Johnson opened his own bottle as he watched Saitama gulp down the drink, "I was just passing by and saw your dedicated training. That's some impressive willpower."
Looking at the half-finished orange soda in his hand, Saitama realized it was his favorite flavor.
He bowed gratefully, "Thank you, officer!"
"No problem." Johnson said, patting his shoulder and raising his bottle in encouragement, "Keep it up."
"I will."
Saitama watched the officer leave as he finished his drink.
"This officer... he's a good person."