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"Saitama-sensei! Are you okay?"Genos looked worriedly at Saitama, who was walking unsteadily, wobbling with every step.
"I—uh, yeah, yeah… I'm fine, haha… ha…" Saitama forced a stiff smile, the kind that clearly said otherwise.
"Huh? What's that in your hand?" Ethan asked, eyeing the sheet of paper Saitama was clutching. Without hesitation, he snatched it away.
"Hey! Give that back!" Saitama lunged at him, face twisting in panic—but he wasn't exactly at his best right now. And since Ethan wasn't any weaker than Saitama, the bald hero failed miserably to get the paper back.
"Wait, this is… a medical report?" Ethan's eyes widened. "You're sick? You, of all people? No way, let me see that!"
Saitama's expression darkened. His eyes lost focus, as if staring into a bleak and endless void.
"Uh…" Ethan froze mid-sentence after glancing at the paper.
"What is it?!" Genos asked, his mechanical voice tightening with panic. "Don't tell me… Saitama-sensei has some kind of terminal illness?!" His chest tightened. Something told him he didn't want to hear the answer.
He quickly grabbed the medical form from Ethan's hands—and then froze too.
A long silence followed.
Finally, Genos said seriously, "Saitama-sensei… actually, hemorrhoids aren't that big of a deal. You don't need to worry too much."
That's right. The report clearly said: Diagnosis – Hemorrhoids.
"SHUT UP! Both of you are idiots! Especially you, Ethan! You damned moron—if it weren't for your stupid sandpaper, I wouldn't even have hemorrhoids! Damn it! You should commit seppuku to atone for this!" Saitama exploded in rage.
It all went back to the "sandpaper incident." Ever since then, Saitama had felt something off. Every time he went to the bathroom, there was pain. Lately, he'd even noticed blood—terrifying him enough to rush to the hospital… only to find out he'd developed hemorrhoids.
"Hey, how was I supposed to know you'd actually use sandpaper without even sanding down the grit first? That stuff was industrial grade!"
"Shut up! From this day forward, Ethan, you and I are sworn enemies!" Saitama looked like he might cry. Ever since meeting Ethan, nothing good had happened to him.
"C'mon, don't be like that. Look, I'm not upset, so why are you?"
"You're not the one with hemorrhoids, jackass!"
"Saitama-sensei," Genos interjected gently, "it's really not worth worrying about. It's just a minor condition."
"Shut it, Genos! Easy for you to say—let's see you keep that calm if you had hemorrhoids!"
"I'm sorry, Saitama-sensei. Most of my body has been replaced with cybernetics. Developing hemorrhoids is… biologically impossible for me."
"..."
Ever since his humiliating diagnosis, Saitama hadn't been going out much. Unless it was absolutely necessary—to complete his weekly quota of missions so he wouldn't get kicked out of the Hero Association—he stayed home.
"Poor Saitama," Ethan said, patting his shiny bald head in mock sympathy. "Just stay home and rest. I'll come check on you often."
"Don't bother! In fact, never show your face again! You literally live next door—you drop by every day anyway!"
Back home, Ethan stretched out flat on the floor under the big window, letting the afternoon sunlight pour over him. Pure bliss.
Ding-dong!
Just as he was starting to doze off, the doorbell rang.
"Who is it?" he called lazily. Hardly anyone ever came around here—this part of the city was practically a disaster zone.
"Excuse me, is this Manga Superman's residence?"
"That's me. What's up?"
"Could you open the door, please?"
"Sure, sure. One sec."
Ethan shuffled over and opened the door. Standing outside was a familiar face—someone he'd seen a few times before.
"It's you?"
"Yes," the visitor nodded seriously. "Sorry for dropping by uninvited. I'm the License-less Rider. I owe you an apology—twice before, I failed to recognize that you're actually Manga Superman. My sincerest apologies."
"Oh, don't sweat it," Ethan said with a shrug. "Back then, I was just a regular mangaka anyway. Come on in—you've already been here twice."
"Thank you."
License-less Rider slipped off his shoes, sat neatly at the table, and looked up with his usual grave sincerity.
"So, what brings you here this time?"
"Well, first of all, I wanted to thank you. The manga you drew—'Beat-Up Rider'—based on me, really boosted my popularity. More people recognize me now. But more importantly, your work inspired others. People have started chasing justice, dreaming of becoming heroes themselves. So… thank you."
Ethan waved it off. "Nah, don't mention it. You were great source material anyway. Honestly, I'm just glad you didn't sue me for using your likeness."
He meant it. Ethan had looked deeply into the man's background when drawing the series.
License-less Rider wasn't superhuman—he was just an ordinary guy. But he trained relentlessly, driven by an unshakable sense of justice. He didn't have Saitama's freakish power, but his determination and effort were just as impressive.
Unfortunately, this world wasn't fair. No matter how much Ethan admired him, License-less Rider wasn't the protagonist. And because of that, he'd never enjoy the perks of plot armor. For now, he was just a strong ordinary man.
If Saitama became a hero "for fun," then License-less Rider became one out of sheer conviction—to help people who couldn't help themselves.
"This time, though," License-less Rider continued, "besides thanking you, I have another small request. Could you sign these for me?"
He placed a stack of manga volumes on the table.
"They're from your fans. They love your work, but since you live in such a dangerous area, they asked me to collect your autograph for them."
"Oh, that's all? Sure thing! They're my fans, after all. If I weren't stuck living like this, I'd have held a signing event ages ago."
Ethan quickly signed every copy.
"Thank you very much," License-less Rider said, bowing slightly. "Then I'll take my leave."
"Alright, see ya."
"One more thing before I go—please keep drawing hero stories. This world needs heroes. The more, the better. So I'm counting on you… Manga Superman."
With that, License-less Rider got on his bike and rode off.
Ethan scratched his head and chuckled softly. "Kind of stiff, that guy… but honestly, he's pretty endearing too."
"..."
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