My battered suitcase lay open on my modest bed, a chaotic testament to my life as a mid-A-class hero who consistently tangled with threats far above his pay grade. Spare scale-patterned gauntlets, their metallic sheen dulled by countless scrapes, lay nestled beside half-eaten protein bars – my reliable fuel for those grueling late-night patrols. And there, spine creased and pages dog-eared, was my well-worn copy of "Advanced Monster Weak Point Analysis." A sigh escaped my lips, a soft puff of air that did little to alleviate the tension coiling within me. Z-city. Just the name sent a familiar mix of dread and exhilaration coursing through my veins.
My official ranking… it's a respectable A-class, sure. Enough to keep the lights on, mostly. But sometimes, staring down a monster that could flatten city blocks, I can't help but feel like a particularly durable fly swatting at a rhino. Still, years of pushing myself, ignoring the aches and the whispers of self-doubt… it's given me something more. A raw power they don't see on the ranking charts. A secret weapon.
A slightly off-key hum escaped my lips, a rare outward sign of the anticipation bubbling inside me. Z-city. It was a magnet for the monstrous, a breeding ground for the bizarre and the terrifying. And this time, the primary draw… well, it was a gamble of epic proportions.
Asura Kabuto. The name itself is like a thunderclap. Dragon-level. A force of nature. The House of Evolution's ultimate creation. Facing him… it's bordering on suicidal. Even thinking about it makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. But that orb… the whispers of its power… it's a siren song I can't quite ignore. The stronger the monster, the greater the potential reward. A chance to finally bridge the gap, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the true heavy hitters.
And then there was the enigma. The bald-headed phantom of Z-city's deserted district. Saitama. A week in Z-city… it's the perfect opportunity to see for myself. To witness this… phenomenon. Maybe even… introduce myself. Having someone like that nearby… a walking, talking apocalypse deterrent… it would be a considerable safety net if my little excursion with Kabuto went sideways. And let's be honest, the odds of that not happening are slim to none.
I carefully folded a spare set of my signature scale-patterned gauntlets, the familiar weight reassuring in my hands. My mind, however, was already miles away, dissecting Kabuto's known abilities, searching for any sliver of weakness in the mountain of muscle and chitin.
The Biting Dragon Fist… my own creation. Hours bled into its refinement, each strike, each twist of my wrist, meticulously honed. Late nights fueled by lukewarm energy drinks and sheer stubbornness. It's designed to pierce. To bypass even the most formidable defenses. Kabuto's hide… they say it's impenetrable. I need to test that theory. Not to defeat him. Not even close. But to… disrupt him. To leave a mark. A testament to my own relentless effort.
My phone buzzed insistently on the bedside table, the jarring ringtone – a ridiculously cheerful melody I'd inexplicably set months ago and never bothered to change – shattering my focused anticipation. I glanced at the caller ID. Sitch. A cold dread washed over me, a familiar premonition of unwelcome news. Calls from the Hero Association's upper echelons rarely brought sunshine and rainbows for a mid-ranking hero like me.
I answered, attempting a casual tone that felt about as convincing as a cardboard shield against a laser blast.
"Sneck here! Ready for deployment!"
Sitch's voice, usually a clipped, efficient monotone, held an unusual tension, a barely perceptible tremor that spoke volumes.
"Sneck, I'm calling regarding your planned excursion to Z-city."
He knows. Of course he knows. They probably have satellites tracking every hero with a pulse. "Planned excursion." As if it's a weekend getaway.
"Yes, sir! Just some… advanced solo monster hunting," I replied smoothly, mentally kicking myself for the pathetic attempt at deception.
"I'm afraid that's no longer advisable," Sitch stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The situation in Z-city has deteriorated rapidly. Monster activity has surged exponentially in the last twenty-four hours. We cannot authorize A-class heroes, regardless of their… individual capabilities, to operate independently in such a high-threat zone."
My shoulders slumped, the air suddenly feeling heavy. My carefully constructed plans, the weeks of mental preparation, the razor-sharp focus… all dissolving like smoke in the wind.
"Understood, sir. Any alternative assignments then?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment from leaching into my voice.
"Indeed," Sitch responded, and I could practically hear the wheels turning in his strategic mind. "We are experiencing a significant influx of aspiring heroes registering at the headquarters this week. An unusually large number. We require a capable and… approachable individual to manage their initial orientation."
Orientation? Showing wide-eyed newbies the ropes? Explaining the endless paperwork and the soul-crushing reality of C-class monster encounters? It sounded about as exciting as watching paint dry.
"And the remuneration for this task?" I inquired cautiously, a sliver of mercenary hope flickering within the gloom.
A brief pause. "The board recognizes the critical importance of this initial interaction. Positive first impressions are vital for recruitment and retention. The compensation for this week-long assignment will be… substantially higher than your standard rate, Sneck."
Substantially higher? Now you have my attention. That could actually make a difference. New training equipment for the dojo… maybe even fix the leaky roof.
"Could you elaborate on the specifics of this role?" I asked, a flicker of genuine interest finally igniting.
"Your primary responsibilities will include welcoming the new aspirants, overseeing their registration process, clearly explaining the different hero classes and their associated duties, and providing a comprehensive overview of the expectations and realities of professional hero work," Sitch detailed. "Essentially, you'll be their initial point of contact, setting the tone for their entire experience with the Hero Association."
A glorified babysitter. Still… that extra pay…
I weighed the offer. No earth-shattering battle, no near-death experience, but a steady paycheck and a chance to actually help my students.
"Alright, Sitch," I began, a newfound resolve hardening my voice. "I'm willing to take on this orientation assignment… under one condition."
Silence on the other end. A beat. Two. "And what would that be, Sneck?" Sitch asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into his tone.
"While I'm managing the orientation, if a Demon-level monster appears anywhere within reasonable response range of headquarters, I need to be informed immediately. And I will be the one to handle it. No excuses about protocol or my current assignment. If a Demon-level threat emerges, you call me, and I deal with it."
Another, longer pause. I could practically hear him sighing on the other end.
"Very well, Sneck. If a Demon-level threat emerges, we will inform you and authorize your engagement. However, your primary responsibility remains the orientation program. Understood?"
"Perfectly," I replied, a wry smile tugging at the corner of my lips. This wasn't Z-city, wasn't Kabuto, but it was something. A chance to earn, a chance to potentially fight.
"Consider it done, Sitch. I'll be at headquarters bright and early tomorrow, ready to inspire the next generation of heroes… and take down any stray Demons that might wander by."
I disconnected the call, a strange mix of disappointment and pragmatic satisfaction settling over me. My week of daring adventure had morphed into a week of explaining the finer points of monster disposal and the proper completion of hero expense reports, with the potential for a serious monster fight sprinkled on top like a dangerous cherry.
It's not the Dragon-level I was hoping for. But a Demon… that's still a decent challenge. A good way to stretch my legs, test the Biting Dragon Fist against something substantial. And those rookies… maybe seeing an A-class hero actually fight a real threat will be more inspiring than any lecture I could give.
I closed my well-traveled suitcase, the image of Asura Kabuto's monstrous form and the shimmering promise of the special orb fading into the realm of future possibilities. The eager, hopeful faces of my students, and the slightly less enthusiastic faces of future bureaucratic nightmares, filled the void.
Someone has to guide these kids. Show them the ropes. Even if my own strength feels… out of sync with the lessons I'll be teaching. Still… maybe, just maybe, one of them will see something in me. Something beyond the mid-A-class ranking. And who knows? Maybe I'll even learn a thing or two from them. Their raw enthusiasm… it's a stark contrast to the cynicism that sometimes creeps in after years of fighting monsters that just keep getting bigger and badder.
I knew, with a quiet certainty, that I would approach this new responsibility with the same unwavering dedication that defined my approach to every challenge, no matter how mundane it might seem on the surface.
After all, being a hero isn't just about the big fights. It's about the everyday grind. The rescues, the patrols, even… the paperwork. And if I can instill even a fraction of my own stubborn resolve in these newcomers… maybe, just maybe, they'll have a slightly easier time navigating this crazy world.
And who knew? Maybe, just maybe, one of those wide-eyed rookies would witness an A-class hero handle a Demon-level threat firsthand. That would certainly make for a far more memorable first day than filling out endless registration forms. The thought brought a genuine, if slightly weary, smile to my face. This wasn't the glorious adventure I had envisioned, but it was a chance to make a difference, in my own slightly unconventional way.