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"Wait—wait! You're the B-Class hero Manga Superman! Please sign this for me! I love your comics!"
"Oh my god, it's really you!"
"I've been a fan for so long! I didn't think you'd be this handsome in person!"
"Please sign mine too!"
"Me too, me too!"
Ethan followed a few steps behind Saitama, when suddenly a crowd—mostly girls—rushed over and surrounded him. He froze. It was the first time anyone had ever asked him for an autograph.
"Huh?" Ethan and Saitama both blinked in confusion.
Still, fans were fans, and Ethan wasn't about to turn them down. Being surrounded by a bunch of pretty girls wasn't exactly unpleasant either. Meanwhile, Saitama's face twitched, a vein pulsing on his forehead.
They'd become heroes on the same day. So why did it feel like the universe was playing favorites?
Neither of them knew it, but Ethan had already been a well-known manga artist. His stories were addictive, his art style unique—but he'd always kept a low profile, too lazy to deal with the fame.
When the Hero Association learned he'd joined as a B-Class hero, they immediately leaked his manga identity to the press. It was great PR. Overnight, Ethan's fanbase exploded, and he became one of the most popular new heroes around.
He might've ranked dead last among B-Class heroes on paper, but in just a week, his popularity had rocketed into the top tier. A famous, good-looking artist turned superhero—who wouldn't eat that up?
Saitama stared blankly at Ethan, trying—and failing—to understand why their fates as heroes were so different.
"Manga Superman! Manga Superman!"
"Haha, actually, you can just call me Ethan," he said with a smile.
"Manga Superman, you're a B-Class hero, right? Then hurry, arrest that criminal over there! Take him to the police!" a middle-aged woman shouted, grabbing Ethan's arm and pointing down the street.
"Huh?" Ethan looked where she was pointing—and saw a wide-eyed, utterly baffled Saitama.
"Him? The 'criminal'?"
"That's right! That bald guy!" she said fiercely. "He's been lurking around since yesterday—shifty eyes, gloomy face, totally suspicious! And now he's out again! He's obviously plotting something evil!"
"Wait! No, no, no, that's not what it looks like!"
Ethan couldn't help but chuckle. Ah, so this is what happens when you hang out with Saitama—you get comedy gold.
"I'm a hero! I'm not a criminal!" Saitama protested. "I'm just walking around to see if anyone needs help! How does that make me a bad guy?!"
"Look at yourself—you look like a bad guy! A real hero should look like Manga Superman! You're just a creepy bald man. Creepy bald men are villains, obviously!"
"Wha—hey, Ethan! Say something here! I'm a hero, same as you! Tell them I'm not some criminal!"
Saitama looked about ready to cry, and even Ethan started feeling a bit sorry for him.
"Ahem. Everyone, listen up. Like he said—Saitama here isn't a bad guy. He's… uh, a professional hero."
"What do you mean, 'isn't a bad guy, probably'?" someone muttered.
"Well," Ethan continued with a perfectly straight face, "it's true he looks a little, uh, sketchy. And yes, he's bald. But that's not his fault! Poor Saitama's tried everything, but no matter what he does, not a single hair grows back. He's still a bald man to this day."
"Damn it, stop calling me bald!" Saitama yelled.
"Anyway," Ethan said, ignoring him, "while most bald guys do look like villains, there are a few rare exceptions. This one, for example—he's actually a decent bald guy. He's wanted to be a hero his whole life. Just recently, he finally passed the test to become a professional. Despite, you know… still being bald."
"…"
"Saitama's baldness already makes him suffer enough," Ethan went on dramatically. "So please, don't judge him so harshly. It's not his fault. Nobody wants to lose all their hair at his age! He's just… a tragic bald guy trying his best."
By now, Saitama's head was literally throbbing with anger, veins popping across his shiny scalp. Still, thanks to Ethan's bizarre "defense," the crowd started to soften.
"We're sorry, Baldy! We shouldn't have judged you!"
"Yeah, Baldy, that was mean of us!"
"I had no idea you'd gone through so much, Baldy. I feel awful for laughing at you."
"Baldy, even if you are bald, as long as you're trying to do good, you can still be a good bald man!"
Saitama lowered his head, trembling. His gleaming skull practically reflected the sunlight as his anger reached critical mass.
One more time. Just one more 'baldy,' and I swear—
"Enough!" he finally roared. "You idiots, shut up already!"
"..."
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