Draw it coming at the reader
The splash page's whole job is to stop being a page. Extreme foreshortening, radiating speed lines and screentone are three techniques aimed at one effect — breaking the plane.

A splash page is the one that fills the whole sheet, and it exists for a single purpose: to make the reader flinch.
Everything about the technique is aimed at that. It's the most physical drawing style in print, and it translates to a chest better than almost anything.
What actually creates the effect?
Extreme foreshortening, and it's the hardest part.
The fist nearest the viewer is drawn several times larger than anatomy allows, the forearm is compressed almost to nothing, and the figure behind it is small. That distortion is deliberate and it's what makes the image seem to come out.
Draw the same punch from the side and it's a picture of somebody punching. Draw it down the barrel and the page stops being flat.
What are the supporting techniques?
Three, and each does one job.
- Radiating speed lines converging on the point of impact — they aim the eye and imply velocity without any blur.
- Screentone for shading: dot patterns rather than smooth grey, a physical material that was cut and stuck down.
- One accent colour, usually red, used once. Everything else is black and white.
The single accent is the discipline that makes it work. A restricted palette forces every colour to be doing a job, and here there's only one job: mark the impact.
Why is screentone worth asking for specifically?
Because it's a texture made of hard dots, and hard dots survive printing.
The style comes from an era of cheap black-and-white printing where every tone had to be built from adhesive dot sheets. That constraint produced shading that's pure countable pattern — no gradients, no soft grey, nothing that dissolves on fabric.
It's the same reason halftone recurs across this whole section: traditions born from cheap reproduction are the ones that hold up on cloth.
Can I use a character from a series?
No — shonen characters are among the most heavily merchandised designs in existence, and the protection is real and actively enforced.
The techniques aren't owned by anyone. Foreshortening, speed lines, screentone and the single-red accent are the shared grammar of an entire publishing industry, used by hundreds of artists across sixty years.
And an invented subject is stronger here than almost anywhere else, because the whole appeal is the physical impact rather than recognition.
What subject suits it?
Anything at the moment of maximum effort — and it doesn't have to be a fight.
A hand slamming a stamp onto a form. Someone catching a falling glass. A chef's hand hitting a bell. A grandmother throwing a bowling ball. The style takes whatever it's pointed at completely seriously, which is why applying it to something trivial is genuinely funny.
Same move as the varsity register on a leaving present: borrow a form built for stakes, aim it at something without any.
Does it work on a light garment?
It's one of the few here that prefers one.
The tradition is black ink on white paper, so a bone or cream shirt with black line and one red accent is the native arrangement. On a dark garment the values invert and the screentone stops reading as printed tone — it can work, but it becomes a different style.
That's unusual in this section, where most registers assume a dark ground.
How do I get one made?
Describe the moment at JustOG — what's coming at the viewer, and where the one red mark goes. Pick a direction, drag the crop frame, see it composited on the real garment, and it's made to order and shipped.
Designs other people have published are in the shop.
Nobody flinches at a picture of a punch. They flinch at the fist.