~Chapter 1~

A HERO

Three years ago, Saitama lost his first fight.

The twenty-two old tiger has just moved from Japan to China into a small, rural area known as Valley of Peace. The place seemed nice to Saitama, with a scenic view of the mountains towering above, a small river running around the town, and a population of just under 1,500. Though he was very different from the other villagers, being a muscular tiger with white fur, black spots, and blue eyes amongst a more "soft" population of geese, rabbits, pigs, sheep and goats, the inhabitants all gladly welcomed his presence. To Saitama, everything about the village was perfect. Everything was, well, peaceful!

Two days later, the bandits came.

That day was burned into Saitama's mind forever. Droves of hostile animals poured into the village, breaking into houses, stealing personals, and looting stores. They acted like a pack of hungry wolves, though, then again, they were wolves. Saitama's house wasn't spared from the ransacking. Having woken up to the panicked screams of the villagers, Saitama leapt out of bed only to find his door broken down and three wolves, one with a scarred right eye violently rummaging through his personals. The scarred one noticed Saitama, and, not half a second later, pinned the tiger to the wall and shoved a serrated knife against his throat.

"Where is it?!" The wolf growed in Saitama's face, giving him an unpleasantly pristine whiff of his rotten breath.

"W-what- where is- is what?!" Saitama stuttered. Multiple questions amidst panic, confusion, raced through his mind, as his eyes darted from the knife to the wolf. What were these wolves doing here? What did they want? Why did this one's breath smell like it was coming from a carcass?

"Your money!" The wolf spat back as if it were obvious. "Give us your money!"

Being skewered wasn't exactly on the top of Saitama's "to do" list, so he quickly pointed a shaky hand to a bag resting under his bed. A wolfish grin lit up the wolf's face as he walked over to the bag and grabbed it. Looking inside, he chuckled to see it stuffed full of money. "Now this is a haul!" He gleefully exclaimed before looking back at Saitama. "We'll meet again, kid." With that, he and his buddies fled the house. Saitama could've sworn his heart was beating 100 times a second. He held a hand to his chest as he tried to catch his breath and understand what the heck just happened. When he finally came to his senses, all he could do was lay back on his wall and groan.

"Bandits… of course this village had a catch." He murmured. "There's always a catch."

Whether it was a catch, bad luck, or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Saitama soon found bandit raids like this to occur very frequently. Time and time again, his house would be raided and ransacked by groups of bandits and criminals, ranging from wolves, to crocs, to even animals native to his own village. Sometimes, he would see a certain group of animals - a panda, a tiger, a monkey, a crane, and a snake, attempt to fight off the bandits. For the most part, they did very well. The villagers even named them "The Furious Five," and treated them almost like gods. Of course, they weren't perfect. Saitama knew that well. Day after day, the Valley of Peace was attacked time and time again and, despite the Furious Five's efforts, Saitama would almost always fall into the minority group of people that were still stolen from. Sometimes, he himself would attempt to fight off at least anyone who broke into his home, but it normally ended with a sword at his throat, and most of his stuff being taken anyway. One time, a bandit was even generous enough to give Saitama a black eye for his self-defense attempt. So, with no way to defend himself, Saitama simply complied to whatever demands came his way.

The money? Under the bed like always.

The silverware? Stolen five minutes ago.

Physically, being compliant was the easiest thing for Saitama to do. But mentally, it was a whole other story. Every attack slowly chipped away at Saitama's patience. Each time his house was raided, compliance felt more like a chore than survival.

Finally, he snapped. Saitama had had enough.

During a quiet Saturday, as Saitama went to buy some food with the little money he had left, he began to ponder why he always acted so cowardly when danger arose. Sure, retaliation would result in injuries, but was it really all that bad to get a small bruise to protect his own home? With vengeance in his mind, Saitama thought to himself, 'Why must I hide behind the protection of so-called warriors when they can't even defend me in the first place? What good is a hero if they can't protect the civilians?! What separates them from me?! Why can't I just become a hero myself?!'

Saitama's eyes widened. 'Become a hero myself…' Any other day, the idea would've sounded crazy. But today...

"Sir?"

"Ah, uh- what?" The voice of the goat merchant in front of him snapped Saitama out of his thoughts.

"I said, 'what would you like?'" The merchant repeated.

"Oh, right. Uh, I'll have one loaf of bread please."

"That'll be 12 yuan."

"Here." Saitama dug some coins out of his pocket and handed money to the merchant. The action felt almost wrong to him, given that most of the time, he'd be handing his money to bandits.."Thanks!" he said after taking the loaf and walking off.

"Come again!" The merchant hollered cheerfully.

'As if I could afford to come again…' Saitama thought bitterly. He started his way back to his house, looking up at the Jade Palace. He frowned. The Furious Five - he had always thought the name to be a bit cheesy. Come to think of it, he had only ever seen four of them at one time... Regardless, they sure got a lot of praise for a group that spent most of their time hauled up in a palace, and only came out when they were absolutely needed. They seemed like a failsafe if anything else; a last resort. Regardless, Saitama didn't dislike them, though the opposite wasn't quite true either. He was thankful for their services… but surely something else could be done, right?

When he got to his house, Saitama went in and hastily locked the door behind him, as if it ever mattered. Just as he set the bread on the table, he was startled by a loud bang, followed by a crash. A realization popping into his head, Saitama closed his eyes, grit his teeth, and let out a long, drawn out sigh. He could recognize the sound of his door being broken down from anywhere. With a small growl, Saitama turned to see two familiar faces, one scarred, and the other serrated..

"Well now!" The wolf laughed, "I told ya I'd be back! How've you been? Got some more money for me?!" He taunted. Saitama felt his fist clench. "Lemmie guess, under the bed?" The longer he looked at the wolf, the tighter Saitama clenched his fist. Any other day, he would've complied. Giving his money to the wolf? No problem! Heck, he probably would've thrown in a belonging of his as a plea for the wolf not to come back!

Not today.

As his anger boiled over, Saitama lept into action. He grabbed the table with his bread and hurled the wooden fixture at the wolf. This caught the wolf off guard, who barely raised his arm in time to block the hurtling projectile. The moment he stopped guarding, Saitama was already right in front of him. He launched a punch at the wolf's face - a hard right hook, sending him staggering back outside. "Gah! You little weasel!" The wolf growled as he regained his balance. Saitama only growled in response as he rushed him again, grabbing the wolf by the throat, and throwing him back into his house. As the wolf got back up, Saitama ran at him again. The wolf thrust his knife forward, aiming for Saitama's chest, but Saitama grabbed his hand mid-stab, headbutted him, and twisted the knife out of the hand in one, fluid motion. Again, the wolf staggered back, grunting in pain and annoyance. He began to get up once more, but Saitama wasn't having any of it. Growling, he unleashed another attack, this time, with a lot of help from a little knife. The wolf let out a pained yelp as Saitama plunged the knife into his chest, another small yip as he felt it twisted. Eyes wide with fear looked up into ones filled with rage. As if he was being controlled by another force, Saitama unsheathed his claws on one paw, and placed it at the wolf's neck. The wolf began to quietly whine, begging for his life, but Saitama heard none of it. One quick slash, and he sunk to the floor, lifeless. Saitama stared at the corpse for a second, then his bloody hand. He smiled. After nearly two months of torment, here Saitama stood. Not only had he defended himself, he had won, and it felt amazing.

"Hey you!" A voice called out from behind him. Saitama ripped the knife out of his downed opponent and turned to face it. Two more wolves were at his door. "Give us… your…" One of the wolves paled as he spotted his dead comrade next to a heavily breathing tiger, bloody knife in one hand, and bloody claws extending from another. With how fast they fled, Saitama could've sworn those wolves were cheetahs. Still smiling, Saitama sat down against the wall next to the wolf corpse. His mind was racing, his heart was pounding, and his stomach full of butterflies. 'I don't need skills to win against barbaric opponents, I just need strength! All I need to be a warrior is strength!' He thought to himself. It was at this moment that Saitama knew: he was going to be a hero. 'But first,' Saitama thought, looking at the money sack of the dead wolf next to him, 'I'm gonna buy myself something nice; something nicer than bread…"

The next day, with a newfound determination and confidence, Saitama began his journey to become not just a warrior, capable of defending himself, but the best warrior - one the people of the village could look up to. Each and every single day, he would go through a rigorous exercise routine: One hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, one hundred squats, and a ten kilometer run. During the first couple of days, Saitama almost gave up. His routine felt like both an impossible task and a fate worse than death. But, through the pain and exhaustion, he carried on. Three weeks into training, Saitama had become slightly adjusted to his routine. It still was incredibly taxing for him, but not nearly as bad as it was when he first started. Three months in, Saitama began seeing results. Not only had he bulked up physically, he had become quicker, more resilient, and much, much stronger. Alongside his fear of bandits had vanished, replaced instead with vengeance. No longer did he run and hide when the vagabonds came-a-knocking. Instead, he ran and fought. With word spread among bandits of Saitama's strength, his house was seldom raided by any aggressor. Though with his new found strength, Saitama could take on large groups of armed bandits, fighting with nothing but his fists, he did occasionally find himself overwhelmed by them; at least, the smart ones that attacked all at once and not one by one.

Six months into training, and losing a fight against bandits, whether solo or a group, became seldom for Saitama. His losses from raids were cut down to near nothing, and he even found himself making a profit from stolen money he wasn't able to return. At this point, Saitama had achieved his dream: to become a warrior capable of defending himself and others. But something in him still tugged at his conscience. He still felt the need to push himself further, and push himself he did.

A year into training saw Saitama's name being known and feared among various criminal gangs. Bandit attacks in the Valley of Peace had slowly, but very noticeably decreased. The retracted attacks from smaller gangs made way for larger, stronger, and more dangerous groups to have a go at the village, but Saitama stood strong, fighting and proving victorious almost every single time. Residents of the village had even begun to give Saitama sums of money as payment for his heroic actions - much better than pocketing stolen money. In a way, Saitama had become the village's own 'vigilante' and he carried the title proudly. Villagers admired and respected Saitama, and he became a sort of celebrity in town.

Not everyone, however, was so pleased. Ironically, it was the Five and their master who held seething vexations for Saitama and his fighting. Each member all had their own specific thing they loathed about the tiger. Mantis disdained his lack of precision, Viper and Crane were appalled by his graceless and near barbaric fighting style of "hit it till it dies," Monkey disliked his lack of resourcefulness, and Tigress… didn't quite hate him. No, she was jealous, very jealous. Not only of his strength, but also of his popularity - how he came from seemingly nowhere and stole the title of "Village Defenders" from her comrades and she. Eventually, such jealousy turned to hate. During one dinner at the Jade Palace, the group expressed their animosities.

"That guy's gonna get himself killed!" Crane huffed as he slurped at his dumpling soup.

"Tell me about it! He's gonna get us killed! Dude almost stepped on me the other day!" Mantis added.

"It is very worrying, how reckless he is." Said Viper.

"You think he'd have realized he's going more harm than good." Monkey commented. "I heard some of the villagers are even trying to start their own defense parties."

"No one asked for his services…" Murmured Tigress, her eyes narrowed as she clenched her spoon. The rest of the Five turned their attention to her, each of them a bit surprised. Tigress rarely spoke about Saitama. "He came from nowhere, not a single person knew him. Now, here he is, acting like some personal guardian for the village, and people pay him for it! We do this for a living and we don't even get paid!

"Guys," This time, it was Crane's turn to catch the table's attention, "What if he's somehow the dragon warrior?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" A new voice snapped from beyond the dining room. Out from behind the doors walked Shifu with a furrowed brow, and arms folded behind his back. "That barbaric idiot can not even come NEAR to the legendary status and skill of any of you, nevermind the Dragon Warrior… whoever that may be."

"But what if-" Crane began.

"No!" Shifu glared daggers at Crane. "Sait- That tiger is not, and never will be, the Dragon Warrior! None

of you are to ever speak his name again. Is that clear?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Yes master." Came the unanimous reply.

"Good." Shifu began to walk out, "Keep your dinners light… we're having another training session before bed."

Two years. Two years since Saitama started his training. Crime in the Valley of Peace had been effectively eliminated by fifty percent. Some of the most powerful criminal gangs in the land feared Saitama by now. Though their numbers still sometimes proved difficult to deal with, Saitama almost always came out on top. For the rarer occasions, Saitama had the Furious Five to help him. Turns out, there was a fifth member: a Mantis. Go figure. It didn't take a genius to figure out the Five despised helping Saitama, and only did so for the sake of doing their job. They all still despised him, even more so than before, especially since the residents of the village had started to ask him for combat training lessons. To these requests, Saitama always responded with the same thing:

"I have no training, all I did was an exercise routine: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a ten kilometer run." Eventually, the Five caught wind of this training routine, and, in a twisted act of curiosity attempted to perform it themselves. Of course, it immediately proved impossible for Crane and Viper - the more "armless" members of the group, but even Monkey, Mantis, and Tigress couldn't find the strength to complete the routine daily. Eventually, Shifu caught wind of their, as he put it "ignorant rebellion," and gave a week's worth of three times their normal training regime, along with a harsh scolding.

"Strength alone does not make a good warrior! Do not stoop to the level of that delusional fool! He would be immediately crushed by any warrior with skill!"

Despite the scoldings and punishment, some of the Five tried, but failed to perform Saitama's training in secret. As time passed, the Five slowly, but surely began to slightly admire the vigilante. He had saved them countless times before during battles, and now, instead of scoffing or telling him to stay out of the way, the Five would occasionally thank Saitama for his assistance. Granted, it always came in the form of a small "thanks" uttered under one's breath before sprinting away, but it was gratitude nonetheless.

The third and final year of Saitama's warrior conquest saw Saitama turn into something very… different than what even he was used to. Any weapon, no matter blade or blunt, melee or ranged, proved to be useless against him. That is, if the weapons could even touch him in the first place. Alongside incredible strength, Saitama's training had given him amazing speed, endurance, and agility. Foes fell to him in a single punch, most of the time before they even realized he was going to attack. Fights against raids that used to drag on for ten to fifteen minutes were now over in less than two. At this point, Saitama had practically bested the Furious Five at their own job! Speaking of the Five, they too began to hold some form of respect for Saitama. They willingly fought alongside him, and the belief from two years ago that he was the Dragon Warrior began to resurface. But Shifu, as always, refused to believe that someone as "reckless" as Saitama could ever even qualify for being anything close to the legendary Dragon Warrior. In Saitama's eyes, none of it mattered. All that held meaning to him lied in and around his house. As one young rabbit put it after Saitama had saved her from a gargantuan crocodile bandit,

"You're a hero, Mr. Saitama!"

A hero.

Thinking about the title brought a smile to Saitama's face. It had been so long since he last thought about being a hero. He had been so caught up in his vigilante life, that he had never thought back to that seemingly ridiculous fantasy. Yet, here he was today, better, stronger, and faster.

Saitama was a hero.