Tough Guy
"The water's pure, and the air's fresh up here."
Valencia, the Hero Association president, stood midway up the mountain and murmured as he surveyed his surroundings. The crisp air unique to densely wooded mountains, the sound of a nearby stream, and the breathtaking vista from on high were nothing short of spectacular. The mountain's vast spirit was more than enough to clear the mind of a man worn down by the grind of daily life.
"...It would be perfect if not for that."
He turned, a regretful expression crossing his face. While a stunning panorama unfolded before him, behind him loomed a stark wall of steel blocking the way.
"I wonder when we'll be able to tear down that wall."
Valencia longed to dismantle the towering steel barrier right then and there. But he knew all too well that reality wouldn't allow it. That immense wall was the shield protecting citizens from the terrifying monsters lurking outside. The ancestors who founded modern Dark City had built it to safeguard themselves from colossal beasts. Back then, everyone had called it madness, but in the end, it gave people a safe haven to live in.
Monsters drawn by the scent of humans approached but were stopped cold by the wall, unable to enter Dark City. Even when they tried to smash through, its thickness and superpowered reinforcements ensured it held firm.
"....."
The steel wall that guaranteed citizens' safety—and simultaneously barred the way to a wider world. Valencia gazed at it with conflicted eyes.
"Why the long face now that you've come all this way?"
"Ah."
Someone called out to him then. The man's rugged features and wrestler-like bulk made it hard to believe he was in his later years. Valencia smiled as his eyes met those of his old friend—the very reason he'd come here.
"Am I showing my age? You've got family and a nice house—why live in a place like this?"
"What's wrong with it? The air's clean, it's quiet, and I've got plenty of time to think."
The burly old man, Tough Guy, shrugged.
"Living here's done wonders for my skin—it's all firm now."
"Mine was always good. You think I drink like you or stuff myself with meat?"
"That's what the kids say these days."
"The kids?"
"Don't hit us with facts like a coward—fight fair and square with agitation and fabrications!"
Clenching his fist, Valencia declared it dramatically, but Tough Guy pulled a bizarre face—like he'd just spotted mint chocolate rice.
"What kinda bullshit is that? Why fight with agitation and lies?"
"Beats me. Apparently, that's what the kids are saying."
"You're hopeless. Anyway, if you haven't eaten, come with me. Can't send a guest away without feeding him."
"That's exactly what I was waiting for. The mountain's so damn big—I got lost looking for you."
"Heh heh heh. Eat your fill, then."
"....."
Valencia bit his lip behind Tough Guy's back. Tough Guy hadn't said "let's go"—he'd said "go." Looked like he had no intention of coming down the mountain.
This won't be easy.
Last month, Tough Guy had been assigned to protect the relic known as Siren's Heart. During the mission, he'd been defeated by the S-rank villain Steel Armor, suffering severe injuries: his ankle torn off, his hand crushed.
Of course, to reach S-rank hero status, Tough Guy had endured worse—and come close to death more than once. True to his hero name, he'd overcome every wound and injury to claim his place among the elite. His body was tough, and so was his spirit.
Tough Guy...
Thanks to Shin, the S-rank healing hero and the association's dedicated healer, Tough Guy had risen from his sickbed in record time. His otherworldly recovery had shortened a two-month rehab to just twenty days. Association officials had praised him as the Tough Guy of old, expecting him to lead heroes once more and capture villains with flair.
But he'd done the unthinkable.
'Sorry, but you can't retire yet.'
He'd declared his retirement.
The Hero Association had gone into crisis mode and hadn't announced it. The symbolic weight of an S-rank hero was no small thing. There were seventeen S-rank villains, including the rising star Steel Armor. With Jet Stream defeated by Steel Armor and vanished, that left sixteen in Dark City.
In contrast, the Hero Association had just nine S-rank heroes—barely more than half.
The strongest hero, White Knight. The spider-man who wielded electricity, Jenaraider. The fire-wielding witch, Flame Witch. The wind manipulator, Wind Line. The mind-controller, Hive Master. The dimension-warper, Ether. The poison-clown trickster, Piero. The memory-reader who judged guilt, Memory Hunter. And the spiritual pillar of all heroes, Tough Guy.
These nine stood at the pinnacle, shielding citizens from villains. In a world overrun by S-rank villains, losing even one to retirement would have incalculable negative ripple effects.
'You must be tired, but stay with us a little longer, friend.'
That's why Valencia had come personally to persuade Tough Guy, who had declared retirement and vanished into these mountains.
Tough Guy prepared a meal himself for his longtime friend Valencia. He'd adapted well to mountain life, quickly setting the table.
"It ain't much, but dig in."
"Hate to complain when you're feeding me, but..."
Valencia glanced at the table and said to Tough Guy,
"You really didn't prepare anything."
"You bastard? But damn if you're not right."
The table was a log, and the meal was nothing but grass. Raw grass, with no seasoning—just wild greens rinsed in water.
"Be honest. When's the last time you had a proper meal?"
"...I'm exercising my right to remain silent."
"Haa..."
With a sigh, Valencia sat before the log and started munching the grass Tough Guy had brought.
"Thought you weren't gonna eat."
"Never said that."
"...Heh."
Chucking at his friend's reply, Tough Guy sat across and began eating. The two men, nearing old age, silently grazed like animals.
"...That all you got?"
"...Wanna go forage more together?"
"Don't you hunt animals?"
"Ugh... Just thinking about it grosses me out. You know I can't stand creepy stuff."
"....."
And yet that guy had smashed countless villains to pieces. Not literally pots, of course—but he'd left them bloody messes, limbs shattered.
"Anyway, once you're done eating, let's get up. We're both busy, right?"
"Speak for yourself—what's a mountain hermit got to be busy with?"
"Gotta prep dinner now."
"Come down with me instead."
"Nah. No place for me at the Hero Association anymore."
"Why not? You're still the pride of our heroes, their spiritual pillar."
Tough Guy chuckled at the president's words.
"Getting old suits you—saying that stuff without blushing."
"I'd do worse if it meant bringing you back."
"Worse? Like what?"
"....."
Valencia flinched at Tough Guy's curious gaze, then raised both arms, fingertips to his scalp, and declared,
"I love you, Tough Guy bro!"
"...You've lost it in your old age."
"...Gumiho, you're dead when we get back."
No need to guess who suggested that line to the president.
He actually did it?
Off in the distance, Gumiho flashed double peace signs. Must be his imagination.
"Ahem! Anyway, the association desperately needs you. Think of all the juniors who look up to you—gonna abandon them?"
"Abandon? Nah, I just realized something."
"What? Realized what?"
"That I'm the stumbling block holding back their growth."
"What? How the hell are you a stumbling block?!"
"....."
When Tough Guy awoke after his defeat to Steel Armor, he'd lain in bed deep in thought. He hadn't started as an S-rank hero. Like any hero, he'd climbed from D-rank, step by step, to his current height. He'd lost plenty when he was weak. Without comrades and seniors, he wouldn't be here now. Holding back against villains who showed no mercy wasn't easy.
After becoming S-rank, he'd never lost. Even if victory wasn't assured, defeat had never come—until Steel Armor. That was Tough Guy's first loss as an S-rank hero.
Ah...! So this is the end for me.
He realized he could grow no further. And in that moment, he also understood: he was blocking his juniors' growth.
Whenever juniors were in danger, Tough Guy threw himself in to save them. Sometimes he'd take on higher-ranked villains himself to spare them. That was the problem.
Superpowers grew through effort and experience. Life-or-death crises were the fastest path. But by shielding them, he'd robbed them of those chances—treating fellow heroes like civilians he had to protect.
I've been dragging down the juniors—no, all the heroes!
The realization sealed his retirement.
"...Still, you saved countless heroes' lives. Growth matters, but life matters more, right? Do you regret protecting them?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Tough Guy!"
Valencia's eyes widened at the admission.
"I should've thrown them into the fire more. Not protected them—let them fight villains and grow. I didn't save them. I held them back. Like shackles."
"That's wrong. I can say it clearly: no hero resents you for saving them! None, you idiot!"
"Rivers don't stagnate. They flow endlessly. Watch—they'll fill my spot soon enough. Might hurt now, but with this old pond flowing away, fresh blood will rise."
"....."
Valencia had prepared arguments to persuade him. But meeting Tough Guy's resolute gaze, he knew they were futile.
"...We need you."
"Enough. I have no intention of—"
"The young heroes who'll shoulder citizens and the association next lack experience. Help fill that gap."
"What?"
So the president switched tactics.
"You can't hole up here forever, right? Retired or not, spend time with family. When you come down, share your stories with the juniors—how you've lived, how to handle situations."
"....."
"Better they learn your know-how and fight villains safely than charge in blind. You're not some Scrooge hoarding experience, are you? The great Tough Guy?"
"Heh..."
Tough Guy let out a hollow laugh at Valencia's words. Stagnant water held vast experience. Share it, and juniors could battle safer.
After a moment's thought, Tough Guy accepted.
"...But you'll pay me well as a guest lecturer."
"In your dreams. Just the standard rate."
"You're the Scrooge."
"No, you are. Feeding a friend nothing but grass?"
"Ugh, I told you—I can't hunt barehanded."
"Make a spear, then!"
"No way. Blood's gross."
"And villain blood didn't faze you!"
Like in their youth, the Hero Association's two heavyweights bickered through the night, reminiscing.