Manga World: Extracting Superman's Power

Kent Farm

After renting a car, Azuma Shoyo asked around and finally pinpointed the location of Kent Farm. He drove from the town, covering over ten kilometers, until he reached the vicinity of the farm.

From a distance, still seated in the car, Azuma spotted an elderly woman busy at the entrance to the farm's barn.

"Martha?" Azuma recognized her instantly. After all, the people in this world looked exactly like their movie counterparts, making them easy to identify.

Having spotted Clark Kent's adoptive mother, Azuma turned the steering wheel and drove the car into the farm.

Martha Kent, who was tidying up, heard the sound of an approaching vehicle behind her. She paused what she was doing, stood up, and turned to see an unfamiliar car pulling into the farm.

The car stopped in the courtyard, and a young boy with a youthful face stepped out of the driver's seat.

"Hello, is Clark here?" Azuma asked directly as he approached.

If Clark was at the farm, asking about him so openly would surely get back to him.

But that didn't matter—because Clark was Superman!

Superman, the ultimate good guy, wouldn't hassle a minor like him.

"Who are you?" Martha Kent asked, eyeing the boy who'd come looking for her son with a puzzled expression.

"My name's Azuma Shoyo. You can call me Shoyo," he replied. "Is Mr. Clark not around?"

Martha shook her head. "Clark left last year. What do you need him for?"

Last year?

It was late September now, meaning Clark had been gone for nearly a year.

If that was the case, he was probably close to finding the Kryptonian ship hidden in the Arctic.

Maybe I could stay here and wait? Azuma thought, answering Martha's question as he mulled it over.

"I wanted to ask him about something, but since Mr. Clark isn't here, I'll come back another time. See you next time, ma'am!"

With that, Azuma turned and left.

Clark wasn't around, so there was no point in lingering at Kent Farm.

Strange kid. Azuma Shoyo? Is he of Chinese descent? Martha watched him go, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. How did her son know such a young boy?

Clark was 33 this year, while this Shoyo kid looked about 14 or 15. Considering Asians often looked younger than their age, he might be 16 or 17—but still likely a minor.

Maybe he was the child of one of Clark's friends?

Martha's mind buzzed with wild guesses.

Meanwhile…

Driving away from Kent Farm, Azuma pondered whether he should stay in Smallville and wait for Clark to return.

After all, in Man of Steel, Clark returned to Kent Farm not long after finding the ship. Plus, Martha had said he'd left last year.

His return couldn't be far off.

"Forget it. I'll head back to town and figure it out there," Azuma decided, shelving the thought for now.

Smallville, Outside a Fast Food Restaurant

Azuma parked his car in a spot and stepped out, heading into the restaurant.

"Welcome!" A server mopping the floor glanced at him.

"Any open seats?" Azuma asked, scanning the place. Though the restaurant was small, it was bustling—nearly every table was occupied.

"Yeah, follow me. I'll take you to one," the server replied, showing no hint of bias against Azuma's appearance. Racism could be a serious issue in the U.S., but the atmosphere in Kansas was relatively relaxed—discrimination wasn't as pronounced here as in some other areas.

Soon, Azuma was seated at an empty table.

"What'll you have?"

"Do you have any noodles?" Azuma asked.

"Spaghetti with meat sauce. It's pretty good," the server suggested, giving him a quick look.

"I'll take the spaghetti with meat sauce, then. Plus some fries and a Coke," Azuma said.

The server jotted it down quickly, flashed him a small smile, and headed to the counter.

Seated, Azuma curiously observed the people around him.

In his past life, he'd never left his home country. After transmigrating, he'd gone skiing in Europe a few times, but that was years ago when his parents in this life were still alive.

As for the U.S., he'd never visited—neither before nor after transmigrating.

He'd always heard the racism here was intense, but so far, he hadn't felt it.

The diners in the restaurant were mostly burly, middle-aged white men—typical American types in their 30s or 40s, with potbellies bigger than the last. Obesity was indeed a problem here, likely tied to their diet.

Burgers, fried chicken, and fries as daily staples? No wonder!

After a bit, his spaghetti arrived, delivered by the same server. She set the food on the table and stood there, looking at him.

"Something wrong?" Azuma asked.

"Bill's $12.80," she said, holding out her hand.

Azuma wasn't sure if everyone paid upfront here, but he didn't ask. He pulled out a $20 bill and handed it over.

"Enjoy your meal!" The server smiled faintly and walked off.

"???"

No change?

Azuma watched her pocket the $20 and walk away, then it hit him—this was the U.S., not his old home country.

"So… she took $7.20 as a tip?" he muttered, dumbfounded.

It was his own fault for not specifying he wanted change. She'd assumed the extra was a tip.

No wonder she'd smiled and wished him a pleasant meal—it was all about the tip!

"What a loss!" Azuma grumbled under his breath.

Still, you live and learn. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

As he dug into his $20 spaghetti, he had to admit—it was pretty good. No weird flavors, at least.

While eating, he pulled out his phone to browse the news.

Just then—

"Breaking news: Yesterday evening, a fire broke out on one of our offshore drilling platforms in the Atlantic. The blaze has since triggered an explosion. Casualty details remain unknown."

A news report blaring from the TV caught Azuma's attention. He looked up at the screen mounted on the wall.

"An offshore drilling platform explosion?!" Azuma's eyes widened. This was exactly what he'd been waiting for!

"So, Clark's coming back soon?"

Though he didn't know the exact timing, it couldn't be more than a week away.

"Looks like I can stick around here and wait him out," Azuma thought.