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In short, to cut a long story short, Ethan's life after that was nothing but trouble. Either a monster would suddenly attack Ethan, or another monster would suddenly attack Ethan, or yet another monster would suddenly attack Ethan.
Wait, come to think of it, hasn't Ethan's life always been like this?
Before, whenever a monster showed up Ethan would cast a summoning spell and call up the bald guy Saitama to wipe them out. Now Ethan had to handle things himself. The thing is, even when Ethan personally dealt with them, it took him only a moment. If he didn't feel like moving, one breath could freeze a monster solid, or one glare could fire a laser beam and kill it.
So even if the summoned Saitama refused to cooperate, the protagonist's life was pretty much the same as always.
"Hey, Saitama, still working hard for that once-a-week assignment, huh?"
"Hey, baldy, still busting your butt for that weekly job, huh?"
"Hey—"
"Shut up! No matter how hard it is, I will not help you kill the monsters that attack you!" Saitama shouted at Ethan, veins throbbing in his temple.
"Really? But if you helped me your weekly task would be so easy. And you get paid a little from the Hero Association for each monster you kill. Sure, C-rank pay is garbage, but it's enough for one meal, right?"
"Shut up!"
"All right then. Actually I found out something. Whether you're here or not, monsters attacking me makes no difference." Ethan stepped forward and crushed a monster trying to leap out of the ground beneath his foot. "Like this!"
Watching Ethan, all Saitama could see was that a simple tap of a foot wiped out the monster.
Poor Saitama. Because of Ethan, monsters always charged at Ethan first. Saitama had made himself an ironclad rule: he would never help Ethan kill them. So every day when monsters appeared in front of him, he still had to dash around doing his once-a-week assignment. In the end he was reduced to little tasks like finding lost cats and dogs. To make matters worse, most people looked down on him for being bald and would rather give those tasks to someone else.
"Man, life as a baldy is rough. It's not even my fault I'm bald!" Saitama muttered, stunned, staring at Ethan.
"I was saying that for you, no need to thank me." Ethan smiled apologetically.
"Don't thank you my ass. Don't call me baldy, or I'll make you pay!" Saitama barked back. He was already angry because he couldn't find work, and Ethan kept throwing salt in the wound.
"Hey, baldy, what are you doing!"
"You baldy are so mean, how dare you yell at our superhero like that!"
"You baldy—"
"You baldy—"
Saitama's mouth twitched as the crowd began to rail against him. He felt like he was going to lose it. "Shut up, you bastards! I'll do whatever I want. You don't get to stand there and boss me around!"
His roar silenced the crowd in an instant. Faced with his sudden fury, people backed off.
Saitama lifted his chin and strode with false pride. "You all pick on me because you think I'm easy. If I don't show you some teeth, you'd never behave."
The townspeople kept their distance, but the next week Saitama ran through the entire town over and over and still couldn't find a single job. Not even a lost cat call came his way.
"Ah! Damn it! Are they going to revoke my hero license? No, please, no!" Saitama wailed, hands gripping his head.
"Saitama, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I caused this for you." Ethan looked genuinely apologetic; he felt he had gone too far.
"Well, I guess I wasn't blameless either." Saitama was a pushover. A little kindness usually calmed him down.
"To make up for it I found a commission for you."
"Really?" Tears welled in Saitama's eyes. He was touched.
"Yes. Really. Don't worry, I'm not asking you to kill monsters. I'm lazy, so I made you do the work before. This time it's an ordinary job. Come with me."
"Thank you so much!"
Saitama was practically in tears. When he saw the assignment he burst out crying.
A stench like pepper spray, an overpowering, vomit-inducing smell, disgusting colors and sights that turned the stomach: a terrifying bathroom.
"Uh, sorry about this. The toilet's been broken for a week and we haven't been able to get anyone to fix it. People still gotta go, so it's gotten a little full and pretty foul. But if you're heroes, this should be nothing for you, right?" An old man, seventy or eighty, stood a distance away from the bathroom and still had his hand over his nose as he spoke to Saitama.
"Don't worry, sir. This kind of thing is nothing for us Saitamas. We're professionals. From now on, call on us Saitama for jobs like this." Ethan patted the old man on the shoulder.
"All right, all right. I'll call you next time. Even the building staff fainted from the smell. Only heroes like you could handle it."
By the time they left the old man's house, both Saitama and Ethan reeked. Ethan kept a wide berth, clutching his own nose.
"Saitama, how was the job I found for you? Easy, right? Just fix the toilet. Now that you've got this, you won't be delisted, right?"
"Shut up, you bastard. You baldy! I'm gonna kill you!"
"You're the baldy, aren't you? Baldy!"
"Ahhh! Shut up! I swear I'll kill you, you bastard!"
"..."
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