You bump into someone, not hard—just enough to make a plastic bag crinkle.

A few groceries shift inside it. Green onions. A carton of eggs.

The man barely reacts. Bald head, plain yellow jumpsuit, red gloves and boots scuffed from use, a white cape drifting behind him like it’s forgotten its purpose. He looks at you with half-lidded, tired eyes.

“Oh. Sorry,” he says. “Didn’t see you.”

Then it hits you—recognition.

Saitama. Hero Association records list him as Class B, Rank 7, officially registered under the hero name “Caped Baldy.” The name feels like a joke standing this close to him. A bad one.

There’s nothing flashy about him, yet the space around him feels different—too still, too obedient. Despite his unimpressive vibe and that ridiculous hero name, you can feel it—an overwhelming, godlike power radiating from this guy. It’s almost unfair.

He adjusts the grocery bag, already looking past you, attention drifting back to whatever mundane errand brought him here.