Disclaimer: I do not own One Punch Man.

Betaed by: Zim'smostloyalservant, Trackula, and Another

AN1: And things just keep getting weirder in this odd tale.


Chapter 4

Preposterous Perils Perpetrated by Popcorn

The Hero Association higher-ups were gathered around their ominous council table, looking at a hologram of Mosquito Girl 2.0 aka Becky/"Princess".

"This bug is refusing to go away, it seems."

"She's attached to King, it's to be expected. The public is always hungry for anything personal on King, with how reclusive he is."

"We've wanted him to be more forthcoming to help promote him, to raise money for the Association. Talk about being careful what you wish for; I'm already missing the days he wasn't making social media waves."

"This is absurd, monsters are to be either terminated or captured for study. There's no legal precedent to let King have his way on this criminal act of harboring a monster."

"You want to turn the King Engine against us, after you."

"Surely not! He would not dare rebel against the Hero Association!"

Sitch had heard enough from where he stood by the table and cleared his throat, gaining the gathering's attention.

"I can't speak for King, but I remind you that he never approached us for registration. We recruited him, and as I recall he treated us as more an annoyance, akin to someone agreeing to buy cookies from an annoying scout to make them go away. King does not need us, or at least he doesn't think he does. And given the low opinion not only the public has for the Association but many heroes, if he came to publicly be at odds with us, the Strongest Man in the World would not be without support."

That had them nervous, then McCoy spoke up. Sitch did not care for the one-eyed man with the blonde pompadour. The man wormed his way through the organization, barely holding a post for long but always moving smoothly to another. What Sitch had been able to learn pointed to goals best described as corrupt, but the man was too slippery and well-connected.

"Sitch, no need to focus on the negative. Amai Mask, the most popular pro hero, is of a mind with us that the bug needs to go. And the public might adore her at the moment, but media sensations fall as quickly as they rise. This is a problem, but it's nothing we can't solve with patience and a steady hand."

"What are you proposing, McCoy?"

"For starters, this bug is a monster; at their bottom, they are all the same, natural enemies to humanity. Give her time, and she'll explode in violence, and it will be King who is blamed and will come crawling to us begging forgiveness. And a fine example it will be to any other hero who decides to confuse monsters with a lost kitten, or otherwise defy the Hero Association."

"No, we cannot passively hope this issue will solve itself. Since the destruction of A-City, we have been accused chronically of not doing enough. There are rumors someone out there is even trying to start a rival organization."

"Rumors are wind, they've been blowing for years."

"Wind fills sails. It can topple towers. It can splatter great men and women into paste on the rocks," Sitch told them.

"Save the poetry for those who are good at it. Listen, the issue is being overthought. We send someone to quietly eliminate her and lay a false trail for King's wrath to follow-"

"So, we are going to outwit the King Brain? Lovely idea. Shall we set up a system to eliminate monsters before they attack before or after curing world hunger?"

"Enough."

"It is too soon to act, for now we observe and carry on. We do not condone nor condemn."

"Very good, sir."

"A wise course, sir."

A ringing drew their attention to Sitch, who pulled his phone from his pocket.

"This is Sitch. Tornado? What? Could you repeat that? …How? Explain! Is she alright? …I didn't ask if she was fit for duty. Well thank you for that, I will contact Child Emperor to look into this. For the science, of course."

Sitch hung up and, while not looking panicked, the sweat was not the only hint of his stress.

"What now, Sitch, another crisis shaking the Association?"

"I'm not sure. It seems Tornado-"

Meanwhile, at Saitama's apartment:

Saitama tilted his head and fiddled his hands a bit in the front pocket of his hoodie. The day had gone fairly well. Breakfast was adequate, his workout routine had gone without a hitch, with good weather for the jog even. And while it was probably stale, they still had some leftover popcorn from yesterday's game show fair thing.

But now that bratty S-Class kid had landed in front of him, blocking his way into the apartment. And she looked ticked off. Well, he thought so — her face usually either looked like that or bored. What was her name again?

"Uh, Breeze, right?" he asked.

"It's Tornado. Tatsumaki, Tornado of Terror! And can you care to explain this?" she snapped, pointing to herself.

Oh great, was this one of those girl things where you were expected to read their mind? Did kids do that too? He racked his brains from his own childhood, but it was no good — he'd not really had much positive interaction with his peers in school, and kids these days were supposed to be more complicated or something.

Was she blaming him for her outfit? Well, he had always thought she showed too much leg for a minor, but again, kids these days seemed to roll that way, he couldn't say if that was right or wrong.

"Your outfit, is a bit loose," was all he could think to say, looking at her.

"IS THAT ALL YOU CAN SAY, YOU BALD DICK!?" she shrieked, making him wince.

"Master, is Rank 2 bothering you?" Genos asked, emerging from the apartment.

"Well, the kid's clearly upset and won't say why. Maybe she needs her nap?" Saitama wondered.

"Actually, she is not a minor, she simply has-" Genos began.

"Well, thanks to you idiots, I shrank! Look!" she said, pulling the back of her dress to tighten on her front.

"You put on some weight?" Saitama wished she would just say what the problem was.

"No, Master, the opposite. In fact, if my scanners are correct, she has regressed into a child. No doubt her overpowered epser powers have finally exacted a fitting price in making her body match her immaturity."

SLAM

Saitama gaped a bit at the Genos-shaped hole in the wall, thankfully of the empty apartment next door.

"I'm still not seeing the issue here, but you need to calm down kid, this isn't a battlefield."

"Listen, Baldy! I am Tatsumaki, Tornado of Terror!" the angry kid shrieked, vicious winds ripping around them and even traffic lights starting to bend below, "And I am not taking any bull-"

The wind was cut out as Tatsumaki's concentration broke as Saitama stepped forward with a frown and grabbed her shoulders, slamming her onto the ground feet first.

"Okay, kids act out. I get that, and you're not my problem frankly to step in on. But you need a reality check; I mean, you're doing this cause no one buys your 'I'm a big girl' game? You can't cause hurricanes and send people through walls for that. No wonder Fubuki's so strung out, dealing with this."

"What are you even-" she started, before he picked her up and planted her on his thighs as he performed an impressive air chair.

"I don't really like the corporal stuff. But desperate times…"

"You are so dead!" Tatsumaki shrieked.

"Normal, sequential spanks," Saitama declared with dull irritation.

POW POW POW POW POW

Some steam rising from his ungloved hand, Saitama nodded.

"There, I think that hurt me more than you or something. Let that be a lesson?"

"Urrrrrrr…" Tatsumaki slurred, eyes rolling in her head and mouth hanging open.

"Er, kid? Uh-oh. Guess this is why that ain't okay for most people anymore, my bad. Genos, where does Fubuki live again? And I need an apology gift," Saitama said, setting the short-circuited S-Class kid down gingerly and scratching his head.

X X X

"Sis?" Fubuki said as Saitama held out Tatsumaki by the back of her dress, "What happened?"

She was referring her being a kid, but Saitama seemed to think it was something else.

"Well, she was having a tantrum and I sort of spanked her after she almost destroyed my place. I get now why spankings are no longer done, my bad," he said. He held out the now even smaller esper, who with a gesture Fubuki picked up with her powers, floating her into the apartment and setting her down on the couch.

Her mind was spinning. Fubuki thought she might faint. Her big sister had somehow been de-aged, and apparently it weakened her enough for Saitama to beat her? After all, Saitama was strong enough to be destined for S-Class, but her sister was something else entirely. She couldn't see anyone save perhaps Blast, King or a horde of Dragon-Class monsters besting Tornado at her best.

She felt like she was turning green, realizing this could mean hordes of enemies gunning for her sister in this weakened state.

Then Saitama was pushing a brown paper bag into her hands, having entered her apartment without asking, although he somehow took his boots off while she wasn't looking.

"Here, an apology present for overstepping my bounds with her. It's stale popcorn, but homemade by Genos from craft ingredients or something. Well, good luck, you'll probably need it when she wakes up."

And just like that he was gone; Fubuki couldn't even think about recruiting him this time. Her sister, the oppressive unbeatable strength that had dominated her life effortlessly nearly as long as she could remember, was vulnerable.

'Could she be weaker than me now?' Fubuki felt ashamed at the hope lacing that thought. Saitama had impressed on her that growing stronger wasn't about crushing the weaker or even uniting with peers. It was trying to surpass yourself.

Still, she'd need to contact her inner circle of the Blizzard Group. Her sister would need protection, and ego be damned she would not try and hog glory by going solo on this. A set of text messages was sent that would soon summon her greatest and most loyal subordinates.

In the meantime, she unrolled the bag of popcorn and smelled it, delicious aroma. But she wasn't the popcorn type, usually. Besides, butter was not a good idea when she was sure her dress was stretching against weight gained by all those horrid hot dogs at the challenge.

But it was a gift from Saitama, she would not consider spurning it, so she popped one of the pieces into her mouth.

"Hmm, a bit too buttery," she said, but continued to eat.

X X X

King knew quite a bit about making mistakes. One could say his entire life had been a mistake ever since he had failed to clear up the confusion on being a hero the first time. Or be honest, and admit he'd made plenty of poor choices before that. The problem was, in his own case, learning about making mistakes didn't do much on learning to not make more mistakes.

Case in point, he now had a date. A date. A date? A date?!

This had never happened before, he thought, bending over the oddly clean table where a folder was laid open, showing off information about his date.

Hero name Swim, the bottom of Class C, which meant she was a lot stronger than him. All her measurements were listed, but for some reason her real name was omitted. And worse, she was cute. Not some sexy vixen type, but the cute bunny type.

Great, now he was picturing her with adorable rabbit ears while still dressed in a scuba suit. Forget Beach Bunny, she was a Sea Bunny.

Well, a part of the problem was he didn't have a date. This girl, this flesh and 3D girl was aiming for a date with the hero King. Not to mention, he had no idea how dates worked in the real world. He was no genius, but he knew dating sims were not educational material for the real thing.

And then there was Becky, sitting there hands cupping her jaw, elbows on the table, somehow looking like a winged puppy vibrating from excitement.

Well, he had to say something.

"I see," he ground out, looking past her at the wall. Hadn't there been a soy sauce stain there from the guy who lived here before? He'd wondered if it was blood, and that's why it was so reasonably priced?

And the monster girl was talking.

"-need to get back to her on your date."

"…You handle it. And you're grounded from the entire internet for a week."

"No internet, and a major assignment? How am I- Ohhh, yet another test. Well, forget one week, for two weeks I won't even so much as look at an interactive screen! You really are training me to be your heir! I am so full of pride and humility!"

"At the same time?" King asked, befuddled.

"You're right, I must master my feelings and be able to become stoic like you on command. Stoic mode activate," she said, leaping into the air, hovering and striking a pose out of sentai.

'Yeah, stoic as a squirrel on coffee,' King thought, as she covered her face and then moved her hands to reveal an expression that reminded him more of painful constipation.

"Work on that," he said.

"Oh, so I should start research right now? Of course, love is a battlefield and delays lead to defeat. Hesitation leads to dishonesty, caramel apples sink ships. Princess, away!" she zoomed over to the window, pausing to unlock and open it. Then close it, and shot off into the city, out of sight.

"Well, this will probably end badly. But at least she's gone for a bit. Now, where did I put Harem Sextuplet High School Warriors at?" King wondered. Since she started organizing his apartment, everything was so much harder to find.

X X X

"Well, Child Emperor, what do you have for us?" Sitch asked. They stood in one of the many conference rooms in the A-City Citadel, just him, Superalloy Darkshine, Child Emperor, and the Psychic Sisters.

Strictly speaking, the bodybuilding hero did not need to be here, but with Tornado more unstable than normal, Sitch had called him up from the gym. For his part, the musclebound hero had set aside the oversized dumbbells he had brought with him to intently study Blizzard, who looked like a tomato that wanted to melt into the floor.

Child Emperor stood in front of Tornado, holding a tablet as the various devices from his backpack retracted from scanning the esper, who now stood near equal to him in height.

"Well for starters, if I could get her to my actual lab-"

"No labs," Tatsumaki snapped, while Fubuki said the same thing. Tatsumaki cast a sidelong glance at her sister and planted her tiny fists on her waist. She'd already been issued a new fitted version of her uniform, though the skirt had been made far more full, actually concealing most of her legs. Fubuki, still looking tired though, was wearing a black sweatshirt and dark jeans and looking very uncomfortable with all that had happened.

Namely the fact that overnight, she'd gone up several sizes to squarely qualify as fat somehow. Not that it looked that bad, in Sitch's opinion. If he was younger, he'd rate her still as very attractive; the bosom for one was more impressive than ever, like an old goddess painting. Though why was she wearing glasses?

Now she fiddled with those glasses before speaking up.

"Understand, Child Emperor, espers have a long and dark history of vanishing into hospitals and labs. Either never coming out at all, or coming out as brainwashed minions. Sis was one of the lucky ones to leave alive and with her self intact."

"You don't trust me?" Child Emperor asked upfront.

"It has nothing to do with you, kid," Tatsumaki sneered, glaring at him.

"Well, it doesn't feel like that. But if I must operate on field conditions… I can't really find anything wrong with either of you."

"Please explain," Sitch said, leaning down to try and make sense of the data streaming over the tablet screen.

"Simply put, if I didn't know otherwise, I'd assume Tatsumaki to be roughly my age and in adequate health. Likewise for Blizzard; actually, her body chemistry is quite good for her size."

"Wait, so what about a cure?" Fubuki pleaded, grabbing a handful of her hair with one hand while the other drifted toward her puffy cheeks.

"Well, I can't cure if I can't have something to cure. And for now, I think it would be better to observe without any invasive disruptions. The power to alter physiology, as seems to be the case with Fubuki, could be quite useful. As for a potential youthful regeneration, well that would simply be the Holy Grail of medical science," Child Emperor said casually, turning the tablet off.

"Yes, imagine if we could restore Silver Fang to his prime," Sitch mused. Though he suspected the Association would sooner sell such a miracle to its billionaire and other super-rich patrons. Even as he thought of losing the canes and pains of old age, the thought of never being able to retire from this job for all eternity crashed through such fantasy.

"Wait, so we're just supposed to deal with this?! I have a reputation, I mean the Blizzard Group has a reputation," Blizzard protested.

Darkshine, with a gleam in his eyes, practically warped next to the newly plus-size heroine.

"You don't need a lab to deal with this! You espers draw power from your mind, so I understand how you can leave muscles trailing. But in this case, rather than mind over matter, you need muscle to trump over matter! Give me your stats, and we'll whip up a training plan to turn that flab into sparkly abs! Diet and exercise with…" the overwhelming hero went on, as Tornado angrily knocked the door down to leave.

"Child Emperor, they both attended that mosquito girl's event yesterday," Sitch pointed out.

"Ah yes, Princess Becky, King's adopted daughter. King is truly an enigma that defies any attempts at analyzing," Child Emperor sighed, but seemed admiring too, "But from my observations of her and the original Mosquito Girl, I don't see how this could be tied to her. Science sees patterns, Sitch, but we must always be prepared to accept coincidence is just that. I'm more interested in common genetics reacting to some kind of catalyst."

"Could they have been injected with something?" Sitch asked.

"Certainly possible, or drugged with something in food…" Child Emperor pondered.

X X X

Clearly her father wanted Becky to not be overly dependent on any one tool, which was why he had banned the internet just before assigning her to assemble he perfect date. Well, the first thing to consider, she thought as she purchased a Himshey bar from a vending machine, was to just consider what people did before the internet to do research.

Soon After:

"Library!" she said, bursting into the city pubic library. Only to receive a very loud shush from a stereotypical librarian seated at the impressive circular desk.

"Librarian, kindly direct me to all books relating to the perfect date for two superheroes."

"Is that what you're looking for? Well, I know just where you need to go..."

Shortly:

"And then the door on your left," Becky recited, opening said door and stepping through. The door closed behind her as she blinked, finding herself outside next to a dumpster.

"…Ah, I see. This was the wrong place and she is telling me by doing. Clever. Should I call Tatsumaki and ask? Nah, you don't ask a friend how to arrange a date for your father. But the perfect date surely involves sugar and lots of it. Hmm, well, I just need to forget archives and do it myself. Time for Dr. Becky, love researcher, to query the masses on the perfect date," she declared, drawing a carapaced fist into her palm.

X X X

Becky laid stomach down on a rooftop adorned with laundry lines, humming to herself as she crunched on another donut from the box next to her. With her other hand, she flipped though the pages of her notebook, looking over the ideas for the perfect date.

Research was easy! What was the Doctor going on about not being appreciated?

Granted, there were a lot of redundancies, but that just meant some ideas were better than others.

"But which one?" she pondered, before stuffing half a cream-filled donut into her mouth. Cheeks puffed up, she watched as a bored teenager passed her by with head phones on, and started hanging up pink sheets.

"What's her problem? Washing them all at once was just being efficient. Besides, our apartment is girly, sheets this color blend right in," he griped.

Inspiration struck her in the form of a moody adolescent's griping.

"Of course, why pick one when, like giant robots made out of dinosaurs, they can all be combined into one! Good thing he didn't ban me from credit cards," she giggled, happily buzzing and wiggling on the rooftop in happiness at her great idea.

X X X

Swim had tried to do her usual patrol. The waterfront, naturally, going from beaches to warehouse wharfs. It was quicker than people thought, because she just went in the water rather than around it.

She was Swim, after all. Her father had picked that name out for her, and they'd issued it again with the Association, which she had assumed was a clerical error. But after hearing at orientation about some of the bad names new heroes were stuck with, she decided to just roll with it.

She had always loved the water, and admired lifeguards who were good enough swimmers to save people, like her father. But she liked the deeper stuff too; the ocean was vast and scary, but that only meant those who dared those depths were brave, like those lifeguards. So naturally, when she decided to be a hero, she took water as her theme. And, well, she already had a trident and knew how to use it. Young ladies should take at least some self-defense classes, and it was either trident or pepper spray classes that day.

But instead of being ignored as usual while on patrol, she'd been surrounded. Complete strangers wanted a photo with her. Others wanted autographs. And then there were those wielding scissors who wanted to cut off samples of her hair!

Shamefully, she ended up running away into the surf and finished her patrol offshore. No crimes again. Another three days of this, and she'd lose her C-Class license. Wasn't the waterfront supposed to be a hive of scum and villainy, she thought, seated on the edge of a wharf.

Getting up, she decided to head home, the whole day feeling off.

She'd been feeing better since the train incident. The goal of joining the Blizzard Group had been a direction. She'd become a pro hero because she waned to, and it seemed like a way to both help people and be fulfilled. But even aside from her bottom rank stats, so few heroes she met were polite to her, or even seemed heroic.

While taking part in a group operation, a hero wearing a black tank top had even patted her wetsuit covered behind and just smiled and pushed her trident down when she called him out on it, acting like nothing had happened.

It wasn't that she expected heroes to be perfect, or that she'd be showered with praise. But it seemed like she was getting little done and no one even cared whether she did her job or not. But seeing how even big names struggled not just with the job but feeling appreciated like Boss Fubuki, it had galvanized her to overcome, as they did.

But now she was being treated as a big deal for a contest she'd won by ways she didn't understand; the only competitions she'd actually done well with were picking the right candy bar, and only that robot had been able to eat more hot dogs than her. Which was a legitimate skill, she knew, as she'd done competitive eating along with swimming in high school.

But even so, it felt like she'd stumbled into this date thing on accident rather than earned it.

And why was Captain Mizuki doing one finger pushups outside her apartment door?

"Hello?" Swim said as she approached the Track and Field Hero.

"Hi!" Captain Mizuki responded, springing to her feet with a forceful pushup.

"Whew! Nice little workout while waiting. So how was patrol, my rival?" The B-Class asked.

"Well, actually… wait, rival?"

"Sure, you best me quite handily in the tournament, in the final round no less. So I figure we should be rivals and push ourselves to greater heights!"

"So, you want to fight me again?" Swim definitely did not want that. It'd be the stuff of nightmares if this woman wasn't so friendly.

"Well, yeah, eventually, but we need to build up to that. Otherwise I'd just be a sore loser. No, we're going to compete on another battlefield. Love."

"Love?"

"Love! We are now romantic rivals for King's affection. After all, who in the world doesn't love a good love triangle where cute girls are competing for a cool aloof man's affection?"

Swim did not have a ready answer, but her head must have slumped a bit, because she was nearly knocked off her feet by a hearty slap on the back next.

"Excellent! This is gonna be awesome, and by the time it's done our love muscles will be so strong we could kill monsters with a smile!"

"Uh, what about King? He may not like this," Swim pleaded a bit.

"Nonsense, what man doesn't like more than one girl chasing him? All the stories I read show the only guys who don't are on Prisoner's team. Trust me, this'll make his day. In fact, I already sent him a token of my esteem via Association messenger."

King's Apartment:

"What?" King said, looking into the parcel which he'd opened to reveal carrot cake with what seemed to be icing picturing a scientifically accurate heart on it.

"Better throw it away. Not a good idea to eat baked goods from anonymous people who… send you baked goods," King said. Becky nodded and pulled out a notebook to scribble down that wisdom. Then went back to her array of papers, which scarily enough included an abacus. King wasn't sure why she needed a ye olde mathematic instrument, but he feared the world would find out.

Meanwhile, he was going back to the bedroom to continue quietly mourning his lost dating video games.

X X X

"Ours will be a love rivalry for the ages!" Mizuki declared, holding out a fist dramatically. Swim hesitantly returned the fist bump.

"Now then, as you won the tournament, you get first date. But be warned, I'll be trying to top it. So make your shot count."

"You do know I only won a date, right? It doesn't mean King and I will become an item."

"Well obviously, having won you have what he needs to go further than just one date. King doesn't do things by half. And I can tell you're aiming to be Queen. Radiant potential and ambition radiates off you."

Swim looked down at herself, then twisted a bit to try and look at her backside. She was not seeing any radiance off her armored wetsuit.

"Anyway, I'll leave you to your training, my rival. I'll be getting to mine now too, I even got a new bestie to help. The rivalry was her idea. You remember Lala from the contest right?" Mizuki said, dragging a gym bag over by her foot before kicking it up into her hands. Unzipping it, she made Swim cringe by taking out Lady Deceptica's head.

"Foolish human, I was telling you to destroy her and then King, I have no interest in primate reproduction. Now destroy them all or just crush me!"

"Heh, she's great at the sarcasm thing. And it turns out she's got great reception for surround sound for workouts. Jamming," Mizuki said as the robot head rolled her one eye.

"I am not a stereo."

"Of course not, we're buds. Well, see you later eternal rival, until one of us wins," Mizuki said, putting Deceptica back in her bag and leaping off the fifth floor balcony they were on. Swim watched the higher-ranked hero fall gracefully, whip out a baton, extend it, and somehow pole vault clear out of sight.

"…I wonder if entering that contest was a mistake," she said, guessing Mizuki had never got an invitation to the Blizzard Group.

X X X

Blizzard Group headquarters was abuzz with activity. 28 of the 30 members were present, set to the tasks assigned them. Eyelashes, who was acting leader with Fubuki-sama off getting examined, looked out the window of their high-rise rental space of an HQ, lowering his phone. Lily, in her capacity of personal assistant, and the only other woman in the Blizzard Group, had accompanied their leader to A-Citadel for examination.

And he'd just received bad news. While Fubuki-sama's condition did not seem hazardous to her health or progressive, the Association was offering no aid. What's more, it seemed any out of house surgical option was being opposed by Child Emperor.

While the Association's callousness was to be expected, an S-Class hero weighing in against them was a blow not easily dismissed. It seemed for now, they'd have to ride this out. He sent a brief text back to Lily, thanking her for the update and informing her they would proceed with the plan for now.

Turning from the window, he went to the rollout podium Fubuki-sama used for addresses and grabbed the ornamental polished stone to use as a gavel per Group tradition to draw attention.

The entire group rarely mobilized at once like this. Part of the Group appeal was avoiding burnout by most but the officers rotating out. But he was not intimidated.

"Fellow Blizzard Group members. I regret to inform you, that our fears have been realized. There is no swift resolution for Fubuki-sama's current crisis. However, the situation seems stable, so we will as ever adapt to survive and thrive. Therefore, we must increase our efforts," he told them, eyes narrowed behind elegant and full eyelashes.

"Never again should our beloved boss have to endure having to shop plus size simply to be seen in public. Stitches, for the time being the Group's resources are at your disposal. We can offer her nothing less than tailor-made elegance to both let her new form of beauty shine through while also maintaining regal presence and comfort," he addressed the former tailor-turned-hero, who nodded and bowed deeply, measuring tapes hanging from his shoulders.

"Pencil, Piko, I want everything ready for when her condition hits the media. While some hits are inevitable, I want you to have plenty of IT traps ready to counter trolls attempting to slander her."

"Rest assured, they will rue the day. But remember, suppressing any information is a losing battle. We can only strive to spin this narrative. Too heavy a retaliation will only discredit us," Pencil replied.

"I expect your best," Eyelashes told the legal and IT expert respectfully. The others had leant their aid to following Stitches' lead, supplying the tailor with all the equipment and supplies, and some lending more direct hands, learning as they went from internet videos or Stitches himself.

It was an uphill battle; they had yet to complete a finalized product for a new hero uniform, even. Ideally, they should have three ready for Fubuki-sama to choose between, at least! Would she want a simple modification to accommodate her new size? Stitches' own suggestion of a more classic elegance emphasizing her lack of need for physical altercation? Or even Lily's lady's toga style to call to mind a classical goddess?

Time was running out. The Blizzard Group could not fail, and casting off his jacket, Eyelashes stepped into the fray. The time for oversight was done, it was time to put all hands to task in wresting glory from fabrics and silks.

Soon enough, he found himself suppressing a blush as he ended up at the table seeking to craft a worthy F-Cup bra. The world must never know she was going commando at present.

X X X

Fubuki scrolled through her tablet, looking over her options. She never wanted to set foot in a plus-size section again, so online shopping was the answer for rebuilding her wardrobe. Sighing, she supposed shopping for heels was the only brick and mortar clothes shopping left.

The car came to a rough halt, and she jerked, accidentally putting a fuzzy set of pajamas into her cart.

"Lily, you said you could drive," Fubuki said annoyed to her favorite subordinate. The drive had been far from smooth, and frankly she was thinking letting the 14 year old drive them was a bad idea.

"My hero license also counts as a driver's permit. I have taken lessons. A lesson. I am sorry, would you like to drive?" Lily confessed stiffly, not daring to so much as glance back, while traffic started moving again.

"No, you'll learn better by doing. But in the future, don't claim talents you don't have. We could have just grabbed one of the men to drive," Fubuki said. She was not about to admit she had never learned how to drive herself. After all, she could fly, and once the Blizzard Group started, it wasn't proper for the boss to drive herself.

Setting the tablet aside, Fubuki took a deep breath. She'd been keeping out of the public eye so far, but the Blizzard Group could not retain its place in the Association if its leader was out of the limelight. Grabbing a handful of stomach with one hand and patting a chubby cheek with the other, she glared toward the rearview mirror. Years of dieting and calorie counting, and now this. She couldn't even get angry, as it seemed to be just more misfortune her way. Not to mention her contacts weren't fitting all of a sudden.

"Fubuki-sama, you pull off glasses very well. It displays your mental fortitude," Lily said, rushing through an intersection as the light turned yellow.

"Thank you Lily, but what matters more is how the public and Association see me. Will the Association be willing to let me be the face of B-Class looking like this, much less a candidate for A-Class?"

"It's nothing compared to Pig God, and he's in S-Class."

"Pig God is hideous, Lily. And besides, it's different for women. Like it or not, women heroes are expected to be beautiful. Granted, most men in this business suffer if they aren't attractive, but as Pig God shows, if they have enough talent they will be forgiven for looking terrible. Women, however, won't get the chance."

"The Blizzard Group will crush anyone who tries to usurp your place, Fubuki-sama. Do I have the right of way?"

"…Well, let's head back for now. If the Blizzard Group is going to decline, everyone deserves a chance to get out while the getting is decent," Fubuki groaned.

It really wasn't fair! Sis may hate being a kid, but that was youth back in the bottle. Meanwhile, she'd lost the one thing she had over her sister, being more appealing physically. Her mind tried to remind her of how she had to walk back arched in high school for all the old men ogling her breasts, but just now she didn't want to think of any downside of her former looks.

"The real question is how to go public with this. I'll need something proper to wear first, but I can't stay out of sight for long. So, do we announce it or let it be revealed in the act of heroing? Better to announce it first," Fubuki decided.

Then a pickup truck slammed into the road in front of them, and Lily had to slam on the brakes.

"It wasn't me, Fubuki-sama!" Lily declared, white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

"What's going on?" Fubuki demanded, rolling down the window to look out. Her eyes widened as a hairy tendril came into sight as a massive hairball with a giant mouth filled with pointy teeth came into sight.

"Humans of the city! I am the Urban Bezoar! For decades, you have pampered and flattered your hair with attention and chemical products, but when it falls out callously washing it down drains. Your affection is shallow beyond words, and your arrogance in the chemicals you dump heinous. Thus behold, by the power of chemicals, the hair you so callously discarded has returned to reap vengeance upon you and all else you claim to hold dear! Prepare yourselves for the Bad Hair Day to end your world!" Urban Bezoar monologued as crowds of people fled.

"I'm on it, Fubuki-sama," Lily said, pulling out her three-sectioned staff and running out the driver's side door.

"Wait, you have the key… and she's gone! Wait, we haven't heard the announcement of its threat level," Fubuki realized. Pulling out her phone as the battle began, she watched the message from the Hero Association pop up.

"Threat level: Demon," Fubuki read. Fubuki pressed her free hand into her expanded belly, and raised her eyes, which were already aglow.

Ten Minutes Later:

Fubuki breathed heavily, setting her feet down on the top of the streetlight, letting some of her weight rest on the metal. Looking over the clumps of hair, she didn't see any moving across the buildings and street. Still, she spread her arms and used her powers to send the plexiglass shards she's been using to slice up the hair more.

The key had been realizing it drew power from the knots that held its rage and resentment. By cutting the knots, its twisted will to live was released. But she was not going to yet again be blindsided by a monster being not quite dead and made to look like a fool.

As the seconds ticked by and nothing more happened, she let most of her improvised weapons fall back to the ground, save for a pair revolving around her as she stepped off the light and lowered herself to the ground. A crowd was starting to gather, unfortunately. This could still be hazardous material, and who knew how long until the Cleaners would be on-site. And more importantly, she thought, pushing her glasses back into place, she was getting photographed.

But no one was calling out her name?

Then it hit her. She'd been focused on saving Lily from getting her hair ripped out and assimilated and not announced herself, and none of the boys were here to announce the Blizzard Group during the fight. And after seeing hair get used against Lily, she'd quickly bound her own up in a pair of panda buns as a precaution if its Hair Revolution power could bypass her esper personal barrier.

The crowd did not recognize her. All she needed to do was fly out of here; Lily would handle the car, which Fubuki had thankfully been able to protect from damage, and she could still put off for a controlled debut of her current-

"Fubuki-sama, that was amazing, you soloed a Demon-Level threat!" Lily cheered, running up with her broken staff. The girl paled and covered her mouth as Fubuki turned a look on her that demanded to know why her beloved follower decided to hate her right now, as the amateur paparazzi gasped around them.

"Holy crap, what happened to Blizzard?"

"She ate a bunch of hot dogs. Didn't you see the vid?"

"Oh, guess it's over? Okay," Saitama said, looking around the corner and then turning to go, grocery bag in hand. Meanwhile, Fubuki was wishing she'd forgotten about size principal and bought a pair of black jeans at least one size bigger than necessary.

X X X

Fubuki was recuperating in her office with a warm towel on her face as she reclined in her chair. Any satisfaction at besting a Demon-Level threat with only Lily for back-up was dampened by two things. One, her head felt like it was going to split from the drain the fight had taken from her. And two, her image had been ruined. Her secret was out, and without any damage control to be done.

She hadn't even been able to exit gracefully, picking up Lilly and flying out after being exposed and coming here. They'd probably have to pay to get the car from the impound lot.

She'd ignored whatever the Group was doing and ordered Lily to guard her door to get in here. After using her cabinet contents to mix up a remedy for esper overtaxing, she'd wolfed down a bag of salty chips and sugary candies to replenish her body's salts and sugars from the effort. It had worked, in that she hadn't passed out entirely, but peeling the now lukewarm towel off, she looked at the clock and blinked at the time.

She still felt like her head was held together with staples and her joints ached, but she got up and pulled a water bottle from her personal fridge and proceeded to drain it.

"Oh, bathroom," she realized with a wince. Yes, she had not paid extra for the space which had an office with personal washroom. After all, she had been the only woman in the Group then.

Flicking the lights on, she took in her office and wondered how long she'd keep it. It was fairly minimalist, with the walls bare save for a map of the Alphabet Cities and a roster photograph updated after Glasses left the group. She frowned for a moment, wondering what had happened to that young man. She had not wanted to fire him, despite the others insisting he was not pulling his weight, but he'd resigned himself. And not to quit, as she'd assumed; he wanted to follow his own path to strength.

Fubuki wasn't sure if that was brave or stupid. If he couldn't thrive in the Group, how was he to thrive on his own? But still, it was inspiring, at least for a moment, that he left confidently, rather than be thrown out for a perceived lack of worth.

Her office was so bare because she'd early on decorated it with esper-related decor and clippings of the group, only for her sister to mock it. Well, you couldn't be mocked for nothing, and she had resolved she would decorate it as she liked when she had finally humbled her sister by assembling such a force that the Group would finally take down the grand individual. But would that ever happen with Saitama showing just how much one could surpass many?

And wasn't it a moot point anyway, with the scandal surrounding her likely meaning the Blizzard Group's imminent demise? Pulling out a usually locked drawer on her desk, next to a loaded gun was a picture of her sister glaring at something out of shot and looking cranky.

How was her sister doing, being de-aged? It seemed like a blessing to Fubuki, but her sister had a terrible childhood. For all she had chafed under her sister's looming protection, she was under no illusion it was far better than being imprisoned and experimented on by men who were amoral at best.

Well, if the Blizzard Group fell, maybe she could start something new with her sister? It seemed a faint hope; their relationship always came back to Tatsumaki dominating her, making so clear her independence was a privilege, not a right. The memory of the fan monster battle loomed large, where Tatsumaki had left her defeated followers only to carry Fubuki away herself. To a hospital, to be fair, but the casual separation from her group struck her deeply.

And more permanent separation was no doubt at hand.

She opened the door to the main area and was surprised to find them at work still. There wasn't even an atmosphere of despair and doom hanging over them, they seemed productive with the suits set aside displaying white shirts. And Lily was sleeping sitting up in her chair, chin propped on the butt of her broken staff backed on the chair between her legs.

Leaving Lily alone for now, Fubuki advanced, and sure enough Eyelashes presented himself, standing up from a table.

"Fubuki-sama, is there anything we can get for you?"

"How bad is the news?" She asked, wanting to know how imminent the end of her life as she knew it was.

"Well, Piko is the one to ask for that," Eyelashes said, pointing to a corner table where Piko had set up his laptop. The former programmer had his game face on as he watched the screen, occasionally typing or clicking something.

"What is this, then?" Fubuki asked, gesturing to the near factory floor the main conference area had been turned into.

"To spare you the indignity of shopping plus-size, we your subordinates have been working under Stitches' direction to provide you with a tailor-made wardrobe," Eyelashes declared, reaching to the table behind him and whipping out… What?

The man seemed to fall under a dark cloud as Fubuki stared at the dark green pieces of fabric riddled with uneven seams, and she couldn't tell if it was supposed to be pants or a shirt.

"Unfortunately, our passion does not quite translate into production," he admitted, "But Stitches is currently working on three possible hero uniforms for you as we speak, and last I checked one was already done."

"This is not necessary."

"But we-"

"I just switched to online shopping," Fubuki said, bringing her order up on her phone to show him.

"…"

"It's a shame none of my brands carry anything in this size, but all the more motive to get there in weight loss. Though you may as well cancel Stitches' order. I doubt I'll be getting much hero work while in disgrace."

"Not true, Fubuki-sama," Piko said, sliding in next to them, holding his laptop. Adjusting his glasses, he opened the laptop balanced on his arm and brought up a bar graph.

"As you can see, while there has indeed been significant backlash and various people canceling subs and follows, even cancellations by people who won our New Year's invitation sweepstakes, we have gained more than enough to offset the loss. In fact, based on buzz measurement at least, you and the Blizzard Group have never been more popular," he happily said, as everyone stopped working to gather around. Even Lily popped up, slipping between him and Eyelashes to peek at the screen as Fubuki gawked.

"How?" Fubuki demanded, schooling her features from shock.

"A combination of factors. One, there are true loyal fans who see your change as no big deal or declare you admirable for still fighting even after tragically gaining so much weight eating too many hot dogs to woo King; as an aside, you've passed Princess in trending, last I checked. And then there are those who find plus-size women desirable who have latched onto you as a long-awaited heroine they can get into. Followed by popularity with women of various ages who see you as admirable, as a woman with a 'real' shape who is not only a high-ranking hero but a leader of heroes. And a feminist bloc that is very loud in having criticized the Association for years of promoting women more on appearance than ability that see you as embodying progress. Oh and your one v oneing a Demon-Class monster with only minor assistance from Lily has people across the charts thinking you are imminent to shoot to the middle ranks of A-Class, at least."

"That hair monster, I just figured out its weakness," Fubuki was too stunned to revel in a victory that should have been boosting her ego.

"So, this is a win for Fubuki-sama?" Eyelashes demanded.

"In a word, yes. Though unsurprisingly our site and accounts have been targeted by the usual trolls, whose comments have been deleted. Incidentally, I already equipped Mountain Ape with an app to address, shall we call them, extreme offenders."

Elsewhere:

The acne-ridden scrawny man with squinty eyes opened his door, the light falling over his NO FAT CHICKS shirt.

"HottieUpholder765?" Mountain Ape asked, looming in the doorway and checking his phone.

"How do you know my troll name?"

Mountain Ape grabbed him by his head and dragged him inside.

"Strike me down and two more will take my place!"

"That's fine, I can use a work out," Mountain Ape said, closing the door behind them.

X X X

"That is super illegal," Fubuki said, sweatdropping.

"Is it?" Pencil said, smiling fiendishly from his spot in the crowd, "Are internet trolls a people or simply a pre-monster stage of evolution? I think we have a good case for court. Besides, it's not like they can afford good lawyers."

"Cancel his mission. Just please do that," Fubuki said, a bit stunned by her followers' devotion.

"Can't I have one?" Lily asked.

"I, I need to go see Saitama. I'll need sunglasses. Eyelashes, you drive. Lily, go home and get real sleep," Fubuki said.

"What about the hair? It's a split vote on whether they like the Fubuki classic or teddy bear Fubuki hair look."

"I'm not letting the internet decide my hair," Fubuki declared flatly.

X X X

Fubuki had donned a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, and hastily purchased grey jacket for the trip to Z-City's ghost town. Eyelashes offered to accompany her after parking at the perimeter fence, but she refused. She never liked to visit Saitama with the Group. The Group was for elsewhere or when she invited him to join. It just didn't seem right to come here with backup.

And she was regretting the hat and jacket, it was too hot to wear them about, it turned out. Dabbing at her forehead with her handkerchief, she drew on her power to rise to the second story height and hover along at a quicker pace than she could run. Another advantage of leaving Eyelashes, no need to walk or float elegantly; currently, she was only retaining her hat by a hand holding it down.

She came to a stop in front of Saitama's building and descended to land on the vacant street. She smiled at the easy use of her powers, a pleasant reminder of what was in her control. It wasn't because she looked forward to seeing Saitama, despite her current condition. Which only reminded her of said condition, looking down at her even bigger chest, which the jacket did nothing to conceal.

"Blizzard from Hell, and the day was going so well," Demon Cyborg said, stepping off the external stairs to the sidewalk nearby.

"Demon Cyborg, is Mr. Saitama in?"

"I would lie, but you would just be back later. I see the internet news was true regarding you swelling," he remarked. Fubuki took off the hat and glasses.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I catalog the biometrics of annoying people to better detect their approach. Yours are only slightly altered. I take it you've come to try and leverage Master Saitama into joining your group again after your defeat of a Demon-Class monster?"

"Uh, no, honestly I just found the right tactic to defeat it, nothing special."

The cyborg frowned, glaring at her with those golden eyes on black. She was certain it was those eyes rather than his penchant for fire that had seen him get his title.

"So, you are going to try and play a humble card? Late in the game to change your tactics. As you will not simply leave for not being wanted, I will see you up to ensure you leave when Master Saitama is tired of your intrusion," he said, stepping aside.

"Why exactly do you hate me?" she asked. It was too forward, she knew, but this day had been terrible and confusing and his attitude, S-Class or not, just pushed her button for frankness.

"You are a bully and an insecure fool who uses minions as a substitute for strength and courage. And you presume to try and place yourself as superior to my master, who is better than you in every meaningful way. In light of that, I assume reasonably you only hold the title 'hero' for selfish reasons, making a mockery of the ideal my master strives to embody and I strive to emulate him on. What reason do I have to not dislike your company, Blizzard from Hell?" he said. The words weren't hot or angry, worse he recited them as simple facts. She almost retorted and offered her reasons, including how she had abandoned noob crushing.

But it wouldn't matter; this was a stubborn man, he'd not change his mind quickly, if at all. And it wasn't his opinion she was seeking anyway.

"By the way, raid the fridge and you lose the hand."

"Just because I put on weight doesn't mean I'm suddenly Pig God."

"Of course not, he's actually good at this job."

X X X

Genos followed Fubuki up to the apartment. He had hoped increasing his insults' potency would get rid of her. A more passive approach was not working, so escalation was the best course. It would be easier if Master Saitama just told her to not bother him anymore. But alas, his master was too benevolent to be so direct. He only refused to join her group and took it no further. He did not quite grasp that any ambiguity would be seized upon as a chance by this person to get her way if she only persisted.

The fact she had yet to take his master's advice and let go of her foolish pride in B #1 to take an A-Rank reflective of her true status showed she had yet to take any of his generous lessons to heart.

In short, he found her unworthy.

Letting her in, he informed his master who it was. As expected, Master Saitama was still relaxing, reading a manga. Fubuki entered the house as if she was a casual guest, someone like King who was wanted as company, rather than tolerated as a recurring borderline intruder. She was truly oblivious. Thankfully, Master was also…

Except he wasn't?

As Fubuki foolishly talked around her body image issues with phrases like "some women" and "a woman I know" and other nonsense, Master Saitama was not getting visibly irritated at her lengthy word usage wasting his valuable time. In fact, he scratched his bald head in a deliberate manner.

'Perhaps he is empathizing on physical appearance issues based on his baldness? It's not a proper comparison as he lost his hair for power and turned down my offer for Doctor Kusenko to supply him replacement synthetic follicles. Oh, there is a reaction, reddening of cheeks, delayed anger? Odd, she has not elicited such a strong response in the past, even when fighting him.'

Genos noted Master's attention on her rest on one of her chubby cheeks on her hand, stare, and then averted eyes. Feeling wary, Genos proceeded to conduct a scan of his master, pausing as the scan reached the nether regions.

"Absurd!" Genos said aloud. They looked at him.

"What? I know aerobics aren't for everyone, but that's a bit harsh, don't you think?" Master Saitama said.

"I must attend to the dishes."

"You already cleaned them. Weren't you going out?"

"On reflection, my efforts were subpar, I shall rectify immediately," Genos declared, seizing the pink apron and girding himself with it. He withdrew to the kitchen area, but kept an eye on the situation.

This was a stunning development. His master was roused in the loins, blushing a bit even.

Genos had noted Master Saitama stating he was not into dudes during the House of Evolution incident. That, along with his lack of reaction to Fubuki's shameless body-hugging attire, and women in general, had led Genos to conclude his master was asexual. Whether from birth or another result of the focus needed to attain ultimate power; to be poetic, his candle of desire was not lit.

Well, that did not seem to be the case after all.

His master was into plus-size women. Were the glasses a factor? Why had his master never acted on such desire? Nothing in the apartment, which Genos had thoroughly analyzed, hinted at this, along with Master Saitama's search history, such as it was.

Could it be he himself did not know? Yes, as observation continued, Genos concluded that was the case.

"Well, I figure you don't have to celebrate it, but no sense hiding it. Take it for what it is, right? No big, er, I mean, no major deal?" his master imparted sage advice to her. She sighed, practically thrusting her swollen mammary glands into his personal space as they sat. Fortunately, she did not seem aware. Thankfully, as a seductress she was incompetent.

Regardless, as she took her leave, he saw his master's attention linger on her broad posterior. How much worse would it be when she acquired a newly-sized version of her body-hugging outfits?

Ignorance was a poor shield; she would realize sooner or later and act. Normally he'd have faith in his master, but lust could undo heroes and even gods, as stories told. He had possibly never had a romantic relationship, while Blizzard no doubt was well-versed in such things in the name of her status. Master would be led astray from the path of the hero by womanly wiles!

Genos could see it now, his master used as a footstool by that swollen witch, clad in leather and laughing a noblewoman's laugh as she was ushered into S-Class off his glory while he languished in anonymity.

Unacceptable. After all Master Saitama had done for him, he needed to end this nightmare before it began.

Murder would not meet Master's approval, and threats were ineffective on fools.

Very well, he would make the sacrifice play.

X X X

Fubuki was trying not to think as she took a soak in her tub. She'd even given her phone to Lily to screen calls as she guarded the apartment and did her cram school work. Picking up the wine glass she poured, she took a sip of the white wine, focusing on the flavor.

Not thinking wasn't working. Should she follow Saitana's advice, try to lose weight normally and just let this take shape on her career in the meantime? Then again, he seemed to pay even less attention than usual; he hadn't even been playing a video game as an excuse this time.

Well, he had even less to pay attention to now. After he didn't rise at all to her wiles when they met, she'd assumed he batted for the other team, and then assumed he was with Genos. But Genos' public information stated he wasn't interested in romance, and the Cyborg was too blunt and socially apathetic to lie.

Well, at least Saitama had a point that like a man worried over losing his hair, it had 'happened', so no need to dread it. He'd suggested actually indulging in dessert if she'd been holding back.

Not helpful, but not malicious, she thought.

Then her door was knocked on. The fact she could hear it from here was alarming, considering the size of the apartment. Soon enough, Lily stuck her head through the bathroom door.

"Message for you," the teenager said, looking shocked.

"What does the Association want?" Fubuki sighed, dreading their decrees just now. If it was Group business, Lily'd already have said so, and not look like she'd seen a ghost. Fubuki began to drain the wine as Lily gathered herself. She opened the door wider, revealing the biggest, tackiest bouquet Fubuki had ever seen.

"Mr. Demon Cyborg came by and said he had fallen for your feminine charms, despite trying to drown them out with scorn. He proposes a date and will contact you with further details."

The wine sprayed through the air.

X X X

Becky cackled on her bed, looking over the sheets of paper spread before her. It was all coming together. Her gathering of information had paid dividends, and now the time was nearly at hand. She fondly recalled the helpful citizens' suggestions:

A middle-aged man in baseball cap: "Just take a taxi, it lacks pretension and shows you're not going to blow money on stupid stuff."

A young man wearing a sword t-shirt: "Take her to the most expensive restaurant in the city, of course. You need to impress the ladies."

An old lady with a quilt handbag: "Gondola under moonlight, works every time."

A young lady with half her head shaved off: "Perfect date? Meh, I don't know, swimming in chocolate?"

Someone named Kyle: "Well, if it's two heroes, you need a monster to show up so they can bond over battle. Oh, and ninjas are also good. And you need to have a secret monitoring room to ensure everything goes according to plan. And also make sure one of the dude's bros is there so he has a valid excuse to get up and leave her for a few minutes if he starts tripping up. It's like how chicks go powder their nose. Oh, and explosions and…"

Kyle had been quite helpful, and now all was arranged.

"This will be the BEST! DATE! EVER! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!"

In the main room, King sipped at his coffee, looking up from a fighting game.

"That's probably not a good sign."

Oh well, he thought. He was planning on the date going horribly anyway. After all, the girl in question wanted to date the Hero King. Anything more than a date would just be creepy, as that hero didn't really exist. Given his lack of experience, he figured between that and Becky's madness, the winner would likely run screaming into the night before the entree, and his life would return to, for lack of a better term, normal.

"Maybe call it the standard daily insanity? SDI?" King mused as the bunny girl once more triumphed over the demon king and fed him to an oversized kitten with a pink murder bow.


Author's Note:

Well this has gone some odd places; but as long as its funny right. I actually do have some plans here to develop character and advance plot as it were, but I am happily shooting from the hip compared to a lot of my stuff.

Hope this was as much fun to read as it was to write.