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"Why do we have to work? Why can't people eat without paying? Why not just share everything? The rich waste food while the poor freeze to death in the streets! What kind of freedom is this? We're all slaves to labor!"
On TV, a bald man was shouting his heart out to a cheering crowd of equally bald followers, their fists pumping in unison.
"Yeah! Exactly! I don't wanna work! Absolutely not!"Half sprawled across the couch, Ethan screamed in mock protest, waving his arms around like a bored protester at a rally. He actually kind of liked this "Peach Blossom Society" or whatever they called themselves. The more he watched, the more he felt like… maybe joining wouldn't be such a bad idea.
Of course, he might have joined already—if their members weren't all bald men in black combat suits led by yet another bald dude. Replace that with a squad of cute girls and a beautiful leader, and Ethan would've signed up on the spot.
He knocked on the wall and called out, still watching the bald army on screen."Hey! You seeing this? Did another weirdo show up again? Saitama, man, you seriously gotta stop being so lazy. You could fix half this stuff with one punch, but you always call me instead!"
From the next room came Saitama's irritated voice, still groggy from just waking up. "What now? I just got outta bed! Haven't even brushed my teeth yet!"
"Your relatives, baldy! I found your long-lost relatives!"
"Relatives? What are you talking about? I don't have any relatives. Haven't heard of a single one in years."
Still in his pajamas, eyes crusted with sleep, Saitama stumbled into Ethan's room, looking around in confusion. "Where? Where's this so-called relative of mine?"
"There!" Ethan grinned, pointing at the TV. "Look! Just like you—completely bald!"
"I told you to stop calling me baldy!"
"Got it, baldy. But seriously, watch this!"
Ethan's apartment was a lot fancier than Saitama's. His TV alone was a massive wall-mounted screen with crystal-clear picture quality—way better than Saitama's old, boxy one that looked like it belonged in a thrift store.
On-screen, a news anchor was reporting:"...A group of bald individuals known as the Peach Blossom Syndicate has been sighted. If you encounter one of them, run immediately…"
Saitama wasn't really paying attention—until he heard the word "bald." His eyes twitched.
"Wait… what? So now bald people are criminals?!" He stared blankly at the screen, his world collapsing. "No way! I just became a hero! If people mistake me for one of them, I'll look like the bad guy!"
He grabbed his hero outfit and dashed for the door. Ethan snickered, pulling on his own clothes to tag along.
If the world's boring, you have to make your own fun. And right now, watching Saitama get mistaken for a criminal sounded very entertaining.
As soon as they stepped outside—
"Ahh! It's one of them!""It's the Peach Blossom gang!""A criminal!"
Everyone who saw Saitama's shiny head screamed and pointed. Some even turned and ran.
Ethan burst out laughing, clutching his stomach. The look on Saitama's face—cold sweat, twitching mouth, and a dark shadow hanging over his forehead—was pure comedy gold.
"Ethan! Do something! They think I'm one of the bad guys!"
"Hmm… I've got it!" Ethan rubbed his chin, pretending to think deeply. "Just grow your hair back! Problem solved!"
Saitama's expression darkened even further.
"Okay, okay, kidding! Just take down the real Peach Blossom gang. Once those bald crooks are gone, no one'll mistake you for them."
"Hmph! Then I'll crush those fake baldies myself!" Saitama clenched his fists with fiery resolve.
"Yeah, yeah, go get 'em!"
"Right! I'm heading out now!"
He marched off heroically—only to stop dead in his tracks when a little girl with a lollipop looked up at him in terror.
"M-Mom! The scary bald man's trying to steal my candy!"
Pfft! Ethan almost fell over laughing.
Saitama's face turned darker than a burnt frying pan.
And the darker his face got, the funnier it was. Ethan secretly hoped he wouldn't find the Peach Blossom gang too soon. This was way more entertaining.
Honestly, Saitama's fights weren't even fun to watch. Ever since Ethan met him, his combat style had been the same: one punch, and it's over. That's it. No flash, no tension, no drama.
Other heroes—like Genos, for example—made every battle look like a blockbuster movie. Fire, explosions, flying debris—spectacular! But Saitama? His fights looked like low-budget special effects from a kids' show.
No, Saitama wasn't an action star—he was a comedy star.
Take right now for example: black-faced, awkwardly holding a stolen lollipop. The poor little girl, overwhelmed by the glare of his blindingly shiny head, reluctantly handed her candy over like a defeated tribute to the "Glory of the Bald."
Not long after, Saitama had a whole handful of lollipops—the spoils of his unintentional "robberies." Every time they ran into a kid with candy, his head's "passive skill" seemed to activate: Loot Candy (Bald Passive Skill).
And thus, he earned a brand new title—The Lollipop Plunderer.
"You don't like lollipops, right? Don't worry, I'll help you finish them!" Ethan said, grinning around a candy stick in his mouth.
Yeah. Going out with Saitama was definitely the right call.
"..."
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