1.33 Years after Saitama's debut as a hero
City Z

Saitama was not pleased. Here he was, a hero with many successes and much skill, actively seeking students; yet not a one of such had appeared! The worst part was, he somehow knew (once again) what the problem was: someone had been stealing his accolades!

Disgruntled and with no other recourse, he set out to find the person that had been TAKING HIS STUDENTS AWAY!

Not surprisingly, given his immense skill and power, it didn't take him long to find what he was looking for, in the form of a random conversation from a group of passing teens.

"Did you hear the news? Someone is about to be forceable upgraded to the S-class hero level! He didn't even go through an assignment test! Apparently, he is massively strong, but he has yet to sign up, despite the number of monsters and crooks he's taken down!"

"Man, that's old news! He already IS an S-class. Word has it that he tried to refuse, saying he didn't really do anything. A guy takes down a multiple demon-class and even a few dragon-class threats like it's no big deal, and he doesn't want to advance because he 'didn't do anything' ! Can you believe it?"

"I sure can't. Odds are, it's just a publicity stunt! Probably, this guy is some government-trained, top-of-the-line bad-ass that they are just unveiling. I mean, come on! No-one gets that powerful quietly! Not without some serious help!"

"Yeah, even his name sounds fake. I mean, really! What kind of parent names their kid 'King'?"

As the sound of the groups laughter faded into the distance, Saitama stood in the shadow of an alleyway they had passed, processing what he had heard. He had, initially, set out on the warpath to… 'correct' the jerk that had held him back, but this information seemed to indicate that the person in question might not actually be responsible for it. In fact, he could be, in a roundabout way, a victim!

With a frown, he faded into the shadow and disappeared. Whatever was going on, he would soon get to the bottom of it!

King, recently placed S-Rank hero, was pacing his apartment like a tiger on speed. He never claimed to be a hero! If anything, he was the opposite of a hero! He was, well, weak!

No matter how hard he tried, he had never been all that physically strong, or coordinated, or fast, or even POPULAR. He was a failure in pretty much EVERY physical respect! Yet somehow, a serious of (un)fortuitous occurrences landed him near the top of the World's Mightiest Heroes listing! This was BAD! People would start relying on him to save them, he would literally be getting PAID to fight large monsters, and he couldn't do it! Well, I mean, he could… in a VIDEO GAME!

Honestly, that was about the only thing he was really good at. That, and motivational talking, but all that takes is ten percent other peoples work, forty prevent stage presence, and fifty percent BS. I mean, sure, he was a passable accountant, his previous job before becoming an S-RANK HERO! But still, he was mostly a CHA build and a gamer.

So nervous was this hapless 'hero', that he failed to notice that he was no longer alone in his apartment.

"So, this is the man that has ruined my life, huh? Years of effort, ages of practice, and more than a few bad days to become a hero, and some lazy brat snatches it away? Let's just say, that is almost enough to make a guy go… villain, wouldn't you say? Maybe get a little revenge on the one who stole my credit, and the ones who awarded him for it?"

When the voice rang out from his table, he jumped almost two feet in the air and whirled around, the blood draining from his face; but as the black-haired man (and what impressive hair he had) continued talking, his countenance hardened. "It may be that I stole your credit, but I never intended to. That being said, if you have an offence against someone, it would be me. If you must pursue revenge, I am willing to bear it, even if it includes public exposer of the situation; after all, like I said, I never wanted your credit. Hell, if you feel you must, kill me! But I will NOT let you harm the innocent due to a mistake."

At the start of his mini-speech, King sounded resigned, even remorseful (He was!), but as he continued, his presences grew until it became easy to see how he had been thought to be S-class. He may be a weakling, and he wasn't the bravest, but DAMN if he didn't have presence. A feeling his 'visitor' seemed to agree with.

"Ya know, I might be the strongest man alive, but you actually made me hesitate for a second, there. It is clear that, for all you aren't who people think you are, you are someone special. And don't worry, I wasn't going to attack anyone; I just wanted to see if you were the kind of person I thought you were. Give me a minute to decide what I am going to do from here. After all, you DO owe me quite a bit of fame, but I don't care too much about it, and I am unwilling to expose you when you are such a decent person. Besides, the Hero Association doesn't need that level of screw-up exposed this early in the game for them. It is a good idea, and well-intended, and it would be a shame to torpedo them over an honest mistake."

King groaned. He hadn't even CONSIDERED that angle. When this got out, he would be dead, the Hero Association would be closed, and many more would die due to them being gone. It was an even bigger disaster than he thought!

thum, Thum, ThuM, ThUM, THUM, THUM, THUM

He was doomed! They were all DOOMED!

Splash!

"Calm down, dude! You are making the whole room shake!"

King jerked and spluttered under the face-full of water he received, then looked around wildly. Right, he had other problems at the moment. "Sorry, weak heart. It acts up when I get nervous. Thinking about the damage I did to the Hero Association made me go over the edge. This… isn't something I can fix. I tried… but no, obviously I didn't try hard enough. Maybe if I took you to them, and explained, we might be able to figure out a way around this mess? I will probably end up in jail, but it is no less than I deserve."

Saitama, for it was he in the shadows, looked at King strangely. "That… was NOT a weak heart. If anything, that was a STRONG heart. Sure, it was a little noisy, but the force it was putting off? Yeah, that was something. As for solution, I already have one. You aren't an S-Class, so we will make you one."

King flinched. "I know I have to come clean, but…" he jerked, then looked up at the madman in front of him in shock. "Wait, what?"

Saitama grinned at him. "Take a seat, kid, and I'll tell you a story. All of it I remember, anyway. Long ago, almost fifty years, I started my career as a hero, almost a year before the Hero Association opened. At the time, I was only looking for a thrill, not really caring all that much about the job, ya know? I just wanted to be the strongest, to enjoy the thrill of the hunt, and I did. For about two years, maybe a little less. During that time, I barely trained. Oh, I put my heart into what I did, but what I did was unimpressive; only enough to make me of average strength. Due to a variable, however, I grew STRONG. Strong enough to kill ANYTHING with one punch. After a bit of an adventure spanning a decade or so, I became known as man's protector, One-Punch Man. Sadly, I wasn't enough. Soon, a disaster so horrible it spanned the world came, and… everyone but me and a handful of others died. It hurt. Especially as they also died, one by one, to old age, and I was too strong to do so. During that time, however, I found my true calling; not BEING a hero, TRAINING them. I LOVE to teach, to strengthen others, and to help them achieve greatness! There is nothing I love more than to help someone else succeed. That, and being a trainer comes with MUCH less paperwork than being the defender of humanity. Anyway, by this point in time, I was alone, so discovering this did me no good. I studied, researched, and grew, but in the end, it was all for nothing. Then, one day, an alien visited. After a few hours of talking, he made a comment that made me realize that I had wasted my shot. Then, he said 'too bad you can't go back in time and fix it.'

"It was true. Science, of which I was then a master, proved that it couldn't happen. So, I did what I normally did in such a situation. I punched it. My punch had enough power to warp reality and send a bit of me back, just my memories, really, but that was enough to get me on the right path. UNFORTUNATELY, punching with enough force to send your memories to the past has… side effects. Namely, I broke them. Most of what I had, I forgot. Still, my mind was sent back to what I was a child, twenty years ago, and I have spent that time regrowing to the point I was before. Now, I am ready to take on students. Sadly, there is a problem with that.

"The ability to train others requires three things: skill, which I have; money, not an issue due to investing; and, most importantly, REPUTATION! That, that is a problem; but it is a problem you can help me with. The press conference for your S-class placement is coming up. At the conference, tell them that you can't take it yet; your master (me, though you will just put it as 'my master') decided you weren't worthy of it, so you are going to go into seclusion training with him for the next… nine? Months, or so, in order to round out your talent. When you return, you will be happy to take the ranking. Then, you pay me one-third of your paycheck for being an S-class for the first five years, to solidify me as your teacher. I get cred, you get shredded and stronk, and the Association gets an S-class. If I can't deliver the strength you need in that time, you throw me under the bus as a charlatan, the association gets a scapegoat, and I get punished. Seem fair?"

King looked up, intrigued and hopeful. "You would do that for me? Why? I've been stealing you credit, making others think I did what you rightfully achieved!"

Saitama laughed. "True, but in the end, you convinced me. First, it is obvious you have potential, and potential is a terrible thing to waste. I am a teacher, and I want all the world to learn. In addition to that, you didn't INTENTIONALLY steal my credit, others just gave it to you, and you were to scared to be able to even realize what was going on, am I right?"

King nodded, and Saitama laughed again. "See, you are just like me, a victim of assumptions. Plus, you are willing to make it right, right? That, of course, leaves the final, selfish reason. I am in the heroing gig for one reason and one reason only: to get my name out as a trainer. Whether that is through kills, a slow but sure method, or by mentoring an S-class, a quick but solid way, I don't really care. So, go ahead! Take the credit from before. Just pay me back in endorsements when you are REALLY an S-class, kay?"

King was filled with hope. He could do that! He looked up with determination on his face as a low, long set of thumps started to fill the room and a pressure started to emanate from him. "I agree, master. Moreover, I promise that if I have no talent or ability to learn, I will tell the press that I was the one to claim your credit. You tried to do right by me, and I will try to do the same by you. Thank you for the opportunity." And with that, King, the Invincible Man, bowed to the no-named hero that would be his trainer for the next several years. He would come to hate him with all his heart, until the training was over, anyway…

Saitama grinned. "Good! You have the heart of a hero, young one! Let's get to work! Also, you will probably hate me by the time we are done. Training you from lower that C-Class to higher than mid-S-Class in nine months is going to take some… EXTREME methods. If you hadn't shown the talent you already did, with that PHENOMENAL heart of yours, we wouldn't have a chance. Get ready for training from hell!"

King gulped, then stood up straighter, and the room began to THRUM with his presense. "I am ready, Master! What will I do first?"

The bald one smiled, then pulled out a blank sheet of paper and VERY complex meal plan schedule on it that referenced heights, weights, body types, and various other things on it. After consulting the schedule, examining King a few times, and adding in some notes, he scribbled down a menu and handed it to King. "Here is your meal plan starting from dinner tonight. Even if it hurts to eat this much, even if you feel like you are STARVING when you are done, even if you have a HORRIBLE flu, FOLLOW THIS PLAN! From dinner tonight, on. Get EXACTLY eight hours sleep, and meet me at the City Z ghost town entrance at five a.m., sharp, tomorrow. That's where we'll will be doing most of your training. Wear a Kevlar vest, running shoes, workout clothes, and twenty-pounds ankle- and wrist-weights, and a backpack with thirty gallons of water strapped tight to your back, and JOG to the subway to City Z like that. Anything else is up to you, but I will NOT be responsible for any of your stuff getting damaged. Remember, Eight hours of sleep, five a.m., ghost town, limb-weights, backpack, and bullet-proof vest. JOG, don't walk, don't run. See you tomorrow."

And with that, he vanished, leaving King to do some shopping for what promised to be a VERY nasty day.

The next day, at EXACTLY five in the morning, a puffing, and rather green-looking, King puffed his way up to where he could see Saitama, his new Sensei, leaning against the gates of the Z-City ghost town, one of the most notorious places in the area. More than five hundred monsters class-tiger and above had been killed in this ghost town in the last THREE MONTHS, which was more than almost any TWO other cities combined! Sounded like the perfect area to train in!

Or it would have. And did! Before the jog. Now, to King, it sounded like a place to take a nap! It had been almost six-and-a-half MILES from the train station! Jogging! WITH AN ARMORED VEST, TWENTY POUNDS PER LIMB, AND TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY POUNDS OF WATER IN HIS BACKPACK! He sighed as he pulled up. At least he could stop for a moment, right?

His teacher smirked at him. "Help yourself to a drink, but keep yourself warm. Today is going to be rough on you, tomorrow even worse. We will lead off with some aerobic exercises, push-ups, sit-ups, and the like, while you wear that backpack and the weights. We will keep going until eight, when we'll break for breakfast. I'm sure you probably ate, but you will need more by then, and I have a special diet for you. Tastes like crap, but it does the job. By then, you will probably have about… two-thirty in the backpack? Two-twenty, minimum. That'll do for now. After that, we will go for a stroll though Ghost Town. I will NOT be defending you against anything lower than Demon-level threats, got it? Tiger or lower is on YOU. Beat 'em, scare 'em off, hide from 'em… it's all up to you. For now, you aren't ready for a real weapon, so use this."

He tossed the now thoroughly exhausted-looking man a collapsing baton. "That is a nice starter. Something called 'monster-steel'; about four times stronger, tougher, and harder than the regular deal, but no structural loss, just as flexible with a better bounce-back and only double the weight. Average batons run from twenty-one to twenty-six inches, a little under to a little over two feet. This one hits about two-and-a-half feet exactly, so a little longer than normal. Given that I plan on having you use a thicker, longer version of an epee as a main weapon (measuring at about four feet or so, with six or so inches for the handle and a thickness of a little more than an inch and a half at the join, narrowing to a razor-sharp tip and keeping a razor-sharp edge), this should give you a LITTLE practice at handling things at that range and in that manner (a VERY little; baton vs. epee are VERY different, after all), without screwing you up to much later. Of course, you will be learning basic, but very high-level, hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat before then, but you will need a symbolic weapon. Your name will be KING, and by golly, a KING I will make you! That, and you need SOMETHING for those blunt-force-resistant problems. Nothing like a four-foot razor to clear away a problem! Other than that, we will give this baton a go for a month and a half while getting you into basic shape, and see where we are at from there. Now, away we go!" and with that, he pushed the gates to the ghost town open and gestured grandly for King to enter.

King sighed, squared his shoulders (while adjusting his backpack), and made his way in, the gates closing eerily behind him. For just a second, on the threshold, a voice had whispered in his ear "You don't have to do this. To close you eyes is to not see, to plug your ears is the same as deafness. Do you really want to put your life on the line for others?" But, even as he heard it, he turned away. He was going to be a hero, damn it! And DAMN the cost! He had people he couldn't let down!

Three months later

King sighed as he stood in his master's training yard with a blindfold on, one hand up, one fist at the waste, turned to the side, backpack and ankle-weights (he barely noticed them, anymore), and his feet just so. He wasn't sure WHY (this was the third 'experiment' in as many days to try and find King's 'path'), but he had already reached mid-B-Class strength in the time he had been training, so he supposed he could try a few things for his master.

Yesterday, it had been 'to feel the heart of your opponent as you strike, and to overpower it with your own', where he had been tasked to 'channel the power of your heart into your blows' for SIX HOURS, without success. The day before was even less successful as he tried to 'let his unconquerable heart overwhelm his opponent without moving a muscle'. At least with the Heart of the Strike, he had some idea of how to do what he was told.

What, you ask? Easy! Channel his heartbeat to act as a vibration or shockwave source to impact more powerfully. He had NO idea what the other blather was though.

Today, however, his imagination had been captured. Today, he was listening for 'the heartbeat of the universe.' What an idea! The earth pulsing, the trees breathing, EVERYTHING part of one grand beat! But, how to get there.

HE drew in a breath.

The cries of schoolchildren, the screams of the crowd, the creaking of concrete buildings.

He let it out.

Deep within himself, the mighty beast stirred, reminding him of the source of his power. Shouting to the world it was there.

Thum. Thum. Thum

He drew a breath, and listened.

Suddenly, he heard. With his eyes. Or, was it, saw with his ears? In any case, a perfect sphere, a mere five feet out with him at the center, appeared around him. Within it, his heartbeat reigned. But lower, and stronger, beneath his feet, he could hear another beat. So far away it was but a whisper, so strong it shook him to his core, he could here it! The earth had a heart, and its beat matched his.

He flinched, then fell over, his limbs stiff. With shaky hands, he pulled his blindfold off, only to find it was night and his teacher was cooking dinner at the small outdoor grill in the yard. King slowly pulled himself to his feet, then made his way over to Saitama, who glanced up as he approached. "Any success today?"

King smiled an odd smile. "Maybe. Something happened, anyway. I was standing there, and listing, like you said, and… I musta lost track of time. All of a sudden, the day had passed, and my legs were asleep. That's why I fell over. But… in that moment, when I got distracted, I heard it. The earth's heartbeat."

Saitama looked up sharply. "Really? Tell me more."

King sighed. "It was… huge. So far away it was muted, so big it shook… everything. It was AMAZING. For just a moment, I felt like a baby held by its mother; safe knowing she was there. But something else happened, too. Just before that moment, I could see everything five feet around me! Well, not see, 'cause of the blindfold, but I could… sense it? It's hard to describe."

Saitama nodded. "Oh, that kind of king."

His student looked at him inquisitively, and he explained. "Many times, I have found that certain hero names are more… intuitive than others. For example, Tornado of Terror, while strong, is also a brat, and tends to rush everywhere, hence Tornado, and Terror. In your case, I always thought that the name King fit. You had a dominating personality. Even as a coward, you kept a straight face and a straight back, no matter what. In public, at least. As such, I knew that I needed to test the 'king-architypes' in order to find you growth path. Helped a lot, knowing that, as well. Cut what should have been ten to twenty years of self-study and introspection down to three days of testing.

"You see, finding the path that works for you takes effort, time, and focus. You must search yourself, and use what you find to grow, feeling out the path forward like a man making his way through a massive cave system without a light. By analyzing what I knew of you, I was able to lead you to a shortcut. The first test was the 'Spirit King' test, a test to see if you were the sort of man who was a conqueror. The purpose of the test was for you to try and make things bow by pure will, a skill I am sure you will learn at some point. If it had worked, you would have learned how to make others bend, putting you in the 'Barbarian King' persona, a ruthless, but fair, kind of might-makes right ruler; but you had no idea where to start. Yes, you have the HEART for it, and the skill, but not the disposition. The second was the 'Velvet Glove over Metal Gauntlet' type, the fierce striker. The kind of guy who doesn't SEEK conflict, he just ENDS it. You had an idea, but no success, showing that you had the proclivity, but not the desire, to stand in that position. That will probably be the second skill you learn.

"The one you succeeded in, however, is the third type of king, the True King. The king who, not by strength of arms, nor strength of being, but by listening and helping others, becomes king. This is the most powerful type; the True Servant. One who is in it, not for glory, or power, but to help others, to defend them. In other words, the best. Not the strongest, maybe, but you are the kind of guy who actually cares about others; you are naturally sympathetic, not just pathetic." He gave a dumb-faced two thumbs up, and King just glared. King, as it turned out, did NOT like Saitama's sense of humor. Much. That he would admit.

Okay, it was a LITTLE funny.

King sighed, then grumped "Whatever. So, what does this mean for my training?"

Saitama laughed. "Oh, nothing much. We will pick your runs back up in a week. Nah, eleven days. At that time, I will have a heavier backpack for you, about 600 pounds, and fifty-pounds ankle- and wrist- weights. Oh, and you'll be running, and fighting, blindfolded of course. That'll be weekdays, and you will do sword training on the weekends. Also, I want… three tiger-class monsters dead by the end of the week. Next week, six, the nine. One demon is ten tigers, one dragon is ten demons. We'll do that for… another three months? Maybe. Then see where we are at by then, okay?"

King sighed again. "I guess it makes sense. What is this skill called, anyway?"

Saitama laughed. "For anyone else, it would be the observer's spirit. For you, however? You will find that the only name that fits is 'The Eyes of the King."

King smiled to himself as he made his way out of the courtyard after eating. The Eyes of the King, huh?

He pulsed, and in an area exactly SIX feet out from him, he saw it all. Yeah, the Eyes of the King sounded just about right to him.

Later that Evening

Saitama smirked as he looked over the piece of paper in front of himself, mentally congratulating himself as he thought about his progress. His own growth was better, after all, he was a martial artist now, but the growth of the world around him?

It was true that he had what it took to kill every monster on the face of the earth. He just didn't have what it took to defend every human. Moreover, from what he remembered from before, not all monsters needed to die. What he needed to do instead was train heroes.

Then, and he almost cackled at the sheer diabolicalness of his plan, they could save the world, and THEY could do all the paperwork! It was brilliant! And, best of all, he already had his 'King'!

Then he sighed. Yes, he jested about them doing all the work for him, but the world needed heroes, BADLY. The Hero Association, while a good idea, was a decade or more too late to really fix anything. Thankfully, they had him.

He grew nostalgic as he reviewed one name on the list. Genos. His first student. One day soon, young cyborg, we will meet again.

He shook himself. Now was not the time for sentiment! Now was the time for action! His eyes went back to the top, reviewing the important names on the list.

Hellish Blizard: Better control, tricks of the trade.

Genos: Better control, better prescision. Less wasted energy!

S-Class: Clean it up.

Hero Association: Build fortresses.

Help Bang with his dojo.

Help Bang with his Martial Art.

Mumen Rider: The Peak of C-Class! The peak of human limits!

Finally, he reached the bottom of the page.

King: What kind?

Smirking to himself, he picked up his pen, and wrote an answer.

King, the Good.