The summer of 2013 arrived earlier than it had in previous years.
Normally, New York didn’t truly enter the height of summer until August, when average temperatures climbed to around thirty degrees Celsius.
But this year, July hadn’t even ended before the entire city was already sweltering.
The weather was hot and humid, and if you took the subway at this time of year, you would quickly discover just how many different smells human life had to offer.
Strangely enough, even though summer was probably the least comfortable season to live in New York, it was also the city’s busiest tourist season.
Travelers from across the country—and really, from all over the world—seemed to have collectively decided that the hottest and most miserable part of the year was the perfect time to visit.
On Heather Street in Manhattan, Heidi was lounging on the sofa in casual clothes.
Her dark-brown hair hung loose, and her right arm was still suspended in a cast.
“How much longer do I have to wear this damn thing?” As she complained, she turned toward Mike, who was sitting nearby and watching a television program about constellations with great interest.
“People say bones and tendons need a hundred days to heal.
You were discharged on March thirtieth, and today is July thirtieth,” Mike said, finally looking away from the television.
“You can go to the hospital tomorrow.
And if you think it’s inconvenient, you should’ve been more careful in the first place.” Heidi rolled her eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you?
It was an accident.
And I’m your older sister.
Since when does a younger brother get to lecture his sister?” “Since the moment his sister got hurt in an accident.” Mike laughed when Heidi rolled her eyes again.
“Besides, isn’t this pretty good?
You said your office lets you work from home until your arm heals, so what are you complaining about?” Heidi looked at him.
“I thought working from home would be great at first.” “And then?” “And then I spent the last three months trying to work while a certain someone lay around on the sofa watching television and distracting me.” Mike raised an eyebrow.
“Let me guess.
That ‘certain someone’ is me?” “Yes.
I’m talking about you.” Heidi nodded firmly, then brought up the same old subject with a serious expression.
“I’m serious, Mike.
You really should find a job.” Mike shrugged.
“I have an income.” Heidi stared at him without expression.
“Filing taxes for the neighbors every month and taking cash from them doesn’t count as a proper job.” The moment Mike realized she was about to start lecturing him about work again, he began talking over her.
“La la la…” “I’m saying—” “La la la…” “Shut up!” Mike immediately fell silent when Heidi’s eyebrows rose.
Then he stood from the sofa and headed toward the small backyard.
Heidi frowned.
“Where are you going?” “If I can’t win against you, I can at least run away from you.” Mike pulled open the glass door, stepped outside, then closed the soundproof door behind him without even looking back at Heidi, who was staring at him from the sofa as though she wanted to eat him alive.
Under that murderous gaze, Mike casually lay down on a lounge chair beneath a large tree in the backyard.
Then he focused inward on his Cosmo.
Three months had passed since Heidi returned home from New Amsterdam Hospital.
While Heidi worked from home during that time, Mike hadn’t been idle either.
He had spent those three months trying to comprehend the Sixth Sense.
So how much progress had he made?
The answer was simple: absolutely none.
Forget reaching the threshold of the Sixth Sense.
Mike hadn’t even caught the faintest glimpse of it.
Still, he wasn’t worried.
Time was on his side.
He had no intention of forcing the awakening of the Sixth Sense, because comprehending it was a little like trying to find your keys.
When you were in a hurry to leave, you could search everywhere and somehow never find them.
But when you weren’t rushed, a casual glance might suddenly reveal that they had been sitting on the shoe cabinet beside the door the entire time.
So Mike wasn’t anxious about awakening the Sixth Sense.
That didn’t mean, however, that the last three months had been completely unproductive.
Far from it.
In Mike’s opinion, what he had gained was almost as important as awakening the Sixth Sense itself.
His constellation.
As everyone knew, once a Saint successfully awakened his Cosmo, there were two things he needed to accomplish next.
The first was naturally to comprehend the Sixth Sense, which allowed him to truly wield the power of Cosmo.
The second was to find a constellation willing to acknowledge him.
Both were extremely difficult in the Saint Seiya universe.
Even setting aside how hard it was to awaken the Sixth Sense, simply finding a constellation that would recognize you was already an enormous challenge.
The reason was simple.
All the positions were already occupied.
There were forty-eight Bronze constellations, twenty-four Silver constellations, and twelve Gold constellations.
In the Saint Seiya universe, every one of those constellations already had a Saint.
Anyone who wanted to gain a constellation afterward had no choice but to wait until a position became vacant.
To put it more plainly, they had to hope that one of the existing Saints happened to die while fighting for love and justice.
Only then would that Saint’s constellation and Cloth return to the pool of candidates, allowing the constellation to choose a new successor from among the many Saint trainees.
But Mike was no longer in the Saint Seiya universe.
And that was excellent news.
He was the only Saint in the entire Marvel Universe.
Here, every one of the forty-eight Bronze constellations, twenty-four Silver constellations, and even the twelve constellations of the Zodiac was completely unclaimed.
It was almost like dropping a starving mouse straight into a barrel of rice.
Granted, the comparison was crude and not especially accurate, but the basic idea was correct.
In theory, as the only Saint in the Marvel Universe, Mike no longer needed to fight countless battles just to earn the right to inherit a constellation the way he would have in the Saint Seiya universe.
There were no other Saints here.
Theoretically, he could follow his own wishes and become the Saint of whichever constellation he wanted.
After all, aside from him, there was no one else in this universe who even knew how to use the power of the constellations.
But there was, of course, a problem.
Reality was rarely as convenient as theory.
The bad news was that during the past three months, Mike had indeed sensed the call of all forty-eight Bronze constellations.
Yet no matter what he tried, he couldn’t draw the power of any of them into his Cosmo.