Spice City. A simple city located within Japan. Like any other city in the world, it has its strengths and weaknesses. The people there may not be as friendly as those living close to the nature, away from the noise; or maybe some there may have better job opportunities than the ones who live in a remote village, or vice versa.

Either way, there's always a minority who does not simply care. Among that minority was now the (famous) heroe Saitama, who actually had no idea what the hell Spice City was. Coincidentally, he was walking down the street, immediately attracting the attention of many passersby who looked at him as if he was some kind of freak. Which quite possibly was.

Where the hell am I?, he thought, frowning as he walked through the strange streets.

You owe me big time, Genos, he added to his thoughts, as he approached a newsstand. The guy who sold them had a friendly face, so why not.

"Good morning, sir, could you possibly tell me where I am?" He asked with a polite smile.

Said guy looked at him in bewilderment, and inspected him up and down.

"Son, you surely look very lost. Why are you wearing some pajamas? Are you cosplaying?" He asked innocently.

Saitama could feel a vein throbbing in his bare skull angrily after such response.

"Don't you really know who I am? Me, Saitama, who has saved the world countless times from extraterrestrial threats?!"

The poor old man looked at him with a blank stare.

"...Emm, if you really need help, I suggest you to talk to a psychic nearby. Perhaps there you resolve your problem," the man said it naturally, as if psychics were the most common thing.

Saitama raised an eyebrow. Psychic? I feel I know someone like that, he thought, imagining the faces of the Fubuki and Tatsumaki sisters and Saiki Kusuo.

"And you who would you recommend me, old man?" Saitama asked.

Said man, placed a hand on his chin, thinking of the possibilities.

"I'd tell you to go see the famous Reigen Arataka. Lately, many persons had spoken highly of him, and he seems to be a serious worker."

"Understood, thank you, sir. By the way, where is his business?"

"Just two blocks from here. Luckily, its is very close," the old man replied with a smile.

"Great. Well, have a good day, sir," Saitama told him giving him a handshake, before leaving.

"Goodbye, young man," he greeted him back, and watching the heroe walking calmly in the distance, he thought:

What a weirdo.

The famous psychic, Arataka Reigen, was lying loosely on his chair, with the bored expression of someone who doesn't get any customers. Meanwhile, his companion and disciple, Shigeo Kageyama, or rather, Mob, was sitting on the sofa reading the newspaper he had bought that morning to the good man who sells newspapers. Dimple, the thing floating in the air resembling an evil spirit, was also reading it over his shoulder. The only one bored was Reigen.

"Ahhhhhhhh, I'm sick, I can't stand this homey atmosphere! How can it be that we haven't had a single customer all the damn day?!" He stood from his chair and banged his hands on the desk.

"Even spirits need a break from time to time, ya know? Accept the reality and shut up. Your screaming doesn't let me read in peace," Dimple said, not even bothering to look up from the newspaper.

"I think Dimple's right, Master. Either way, I think we could use a break. These last few days have been pretty intense, and I also had finished the lasts exams of this school's term," Mob said, supporting Dimple's cause.

Reigen looked at him surprised. After all, it still seemed incredible for him to see Mob expressed himself more openly. But, eventually, it was expected for someone like him to grow up. Or was it perhaps puberty?

"Tch, I'll let it go for today..." Reigen began to say, but suddenly someone knocked on the door.

This time, both Dimple and Mob looked up from the newspaper to meet with the grim and decisive expression of Reigen.

With a strong victorious feeling, Reigen rushed to to the door and opened it. However, said expression of victory was quickly replaced by one disillusioned, seeing the appearance of the customer. Just a plain-looking bald guy using pajamas and a cape. Even Mob and Dimple had to keep from laughing as they saw with their necks twisted the client's appearance. Surely this guy was a joke.

"Hi! Is by any chance Reiken Arataka here?" He asked with a stupid grin, suspiciously similar to Mob's.

"Agh, is this serious? At least learn the name of the guy you want to take service from, you bastard," Reigen said, with a nervous tick.

"Oh? Wasn't that your name?"

"Reigen. REIGEN Arataka, at your service, baldy. Come in, you want some tea or something?" He asked him with a wry smile as he stepped aside to let him get in.

I'll ignore the baldy nickname this time, Saitama thought, with a similar expression of Reigen.

"No, thanks. I'm fine," he replied with the same smile.

"What's your name, sir?" Mob asked, watching him more closely.

Said sir looked at him raising an eyebrow. The kid couldn't possibly have more than 14 years, and yet he had a look of boredom toward life very similar to his. He further noted the rugged floating thing next to him, but decided not to comment about it.

"You may refer to me as Saitama," he said, showing a determined expression.