Chapter 1: Fish Out of Water
The blinding light dissipated, leaving Saitama blinking in an unfamiliar,
gloomy environment.
"What the…?" Saitama muttered, glancing around. He was no longer on Earth;
the absence of the Supermarket Entry sign confirmed that. The feeling
was akin to being in the void of nothingness, similar to the sensation he
experienced in space or on the moon.
An oppressive sense of wrongness filled the air, a feeling that wasn't
quite fear but a deep, primal unease. It was a dissonance in the very
fabric of reality he used to.
A deep, resonant voice, like a cosmic gong, echoed through the
void. "Saitama," it boomed, the name vibrating through him like a physical
shock. "You are an annoying bug!"
Saitama frowned, not in the mood for insults from disembodied voices. He
just wanted to go home and pick up some discounted groceries, perhaps
find a good sale on udon. "Uh, someone is in my ears again…" he started,
scratching his chin. "If you're the same alien, please, can you point me
in the direction of… well, anywhere that isn't this creepy black void?"
The voice chuckled. "Fuck you, Saitama. I trapped you here in this realm. I
made this just for you. You can't get out of this eternal prison; it's
inescapable." The voice reasoned meekly, "You keep messing up my plans I
had to do this; I'm desperate!"
Saitama sighed, tired of the 'greatest evil' and 'only hope' narratives
he often encountered. Every powerful being he'd met had tried to lay that
burden on him, and it always ended in disappointment. He had punched aliens
and monsters beyond comprehension, and none had even tickled him. But this
was different—a prison?
"Hmm… a prison? That's new; I'll give you that," Saitama mused. He
thought for a moment and then punched.
The dimension shattered like fragile glass, and a door-sized hole appeared
where he punched. "Well, that was easy," Saitama mused.
A loud "Nooooo!" echoed as Saitama entered the mysterious hole.
A blinding white light engulfed Saitama, pulling him down a swirling vortex
of colors and sounds. He felt a strange tugging sensation, and then it
stopped abruptly.
Saitama landed on his feet, the impact jarring but harmless. He blinked,
trying to adjust to the sudden change in scenery. He was in a city, with
towering skyscrapers clawing at the sky and their windows reflecting the
orange glow of the setting sun. Cars honked in the distance, and the air
buzzed with a chaotic energy that was both familiar and strange.
"This isn't City Z anymore," Saitama muttered, taking a deep breath. "At
least it isn't that creepy void." He took a step forward, eager to explore
this new world and maybe find a decent place to eat. He was starving.
"Hey, mister!" a voice called out.
Saitama turned to see a young boy, no older than ten, running towards him
with a worried face. "Are you a caper?" the boy asked breathlessly.
Saitama blinked. "Caper? Uh, yeah, you could say that," he replied,
scratching his head and looking at his cape absent-mindedly. "Why?"
"Please, you have to help!" the boy exclaimed, grabbing his hand. "There's
a monster attacking downtown A giant… thing The capers are fighting it,
but they're losing!"
Saitama felt a flicker of interest. A monster, huh? Maybe this new world
wouldn't be so boring after all. "Lead the way," Saitama said, a small
smile spreading across his face. "It's time for a hero to save the day."
The boy, his face pale and his voice trembling, pointed towards the heart
of the city. "It's… it's downtown! A giant monster! I saw it on the news,
it's destroying everything!".
He clung to Saitama's arm for a moment, seeking reassurance from the
imposing figure before him, then backed away, eyes wide with a mixture of
fear and awe. "Be careful, mister! It's really dangerous!"
Saitama offered a reassuring nod, though the boy was likely too far away
to see it. "Don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it." He turned and began
to walk towards the city center, each step echoing with a confidence born
of unparalleled strength.
As Saitama walked through the streets of Brockton Bay, he heard the sound
of a commotion. Changing his course, he headed towards the noise.
Upon turning a corner, he found himself in a narrow alleyway where a tense
scene was unfolding. A strange-looking man with a blade, Jack Slash, the
leader of the Slaughterhouse Nine, was poised to deliver a deadly blow to a
young girl known as Mouse Protector. Saitama's arrival was almost silent, but
Jack's instincts, honed from years of leading the infamous group, were sharp.
"Ah, perfect timing, another prey to add to the mix, eh?" Jack began,
a forced smile flickering across his face. Turning his attention back to
his prey, resuming his previous action.
Saitama's expression remained bland as he moved swiftly to intercept
the blade. "Too slow," he said flatly, grasping Jack's wrist and halting
the attack.
Jack's pale blue eyes widened in surprise, but he winced, a pained expression
briefly overtaking his features as Saitama gripped his wrist. He tried to
wrench his arm free, a grunt escaping his lips. "Y-you think..." he started,
his voice strained, "you can stop me?". Saitama didn't flinch. With a
gentle but firm grip, he held Jack in place. "I don't want to fight,
but I won't let you hurt her".
Mouse Protector broke free, took a look at Saitama and ran. Jack hissed,
his frustration mixing with evident pain, and tried to attack Saitama
again. With a simple twist of his wrist, Saitama sent the knife Jack was
wielding flying out of his hand. "You're not very good at this," Saitama
observed, his voice devoid of emotion. Jack often carried multiple weapons,
but he didn't have time to draw another.
Jack's face contorted in pain and anger. Before he could fully react,
Saitama delivered a swift punch to his jaw. The sound of shattering bones
echoed through the alleyway as Jack's body was launched backward. Jack
landed heavily against the alley wall, a groan of agony escaping his
lips. He lay there, stunned and clearly in immense pain, clutching his
obviously broken jaw.
Jack Slash moaned softly, trying to push himself up with visible effort,
his body shaking from the pain. His jaw throbbed relentlessly. Slowly, he
stumbled to his feet, his vision swimming. "Y-you... can't be... real..." he
managed to croak out, his voice barely audible. He'd never experienced
pain like this before.
Saitama, who had been searching his pockets for his shopping list, looked
up with a sigh. "Oh, you're still here," he said, his voice filled with
the same boredom it had held earlier. "I thought I'd knocked you out for
good". He returned his attention to the crumpled piece of paper in his hand,
scanning the items listed.
Jack, despite the agony lancing through his face, forced a weak,
manipulative smile. "L-look..." he began, his voice thick with pain and
distorted by his injury, his usual tone faltering. He paused, sucking
in a ragged breath. "J-just... a misunderstanding...". He struggled to
articulate, his eyes darting around, but his focus kept returning to the
throbbing pain in his jaw. "N-no need... get involved... doesn't concern
you...". He needed to buy time, to assess this unexpected threat. He hadn't
anticipated someone like this. His thinker ability, the broadcast aspect
of his shard that built on his natural ability to read people, usually
gave him an edge. But this man... he was an enigma.
A thought, spurred by his instincts and perhaps a subtle nudge from
his shard, flickered through Jack's pain-addled mind. He needed
information. "Say, uh..." he began, wincing as the movement aggravated his
broken jaw. "What exactly should I call the guy who just rearranged my face?"
Saitama looked up again, slightly annoyed at the interruption of his
grocery inventory. "Saitama," he replied flatly, then returned to his list.
"Saitama," Jack repeated the name, testing it. It didn't sound familiar. He
hadn't heard of any capes with that moniker. "Well, 'Mister Saitama',"
Jack began, his voice still strained, "perhaps you don't understand
the situation here." He tried to subtly twist the narrative, his eyes
glinting with false sincerity. "This... this was just a bit of fun, a
little disagreement. Nothing for a stranger to concern himself with." He
attempted to minimize the violence, even though the taste of his own blood
filled his mouth. "She's not worth this kind of... intervention.".
Saitama finally pocketed his shopping list, his gaze settling back on
Jack, a hint of something akin to disapproval in his otherwise blank
expression. "I don't like bullies," he responded simply, raising a fist,
his expression hardening slightly. "And you're definitely a bully".
Before Jack could formulate another manipulative retort, a new presence
made itself known. As if on cue, the other members of the Nine began to
emerge from the shadows, drawn by the commotion. Shadow Stalker, her form
flickering in and out of shadow, was the first to fully materialize, her
crossbow already trained on Saitama. Her eyes, glowing with a predatory
intensity, darted between Saitama and the clearly injured Jack.
Close behind her, the chilling form of Siberian solidified into existence,
its striped monochrome figure radiating an aura of invincibility. Bonesaw,
somewhat dazed but grinning with a manic glee, followed, her assortment of
disturbing tools and weapons clanking softly. Even Crawler, his grotesque,
ever-evolving form a mass of hardened flesh and sharp protrusions, began
to pull himself into the alleyway, his multiple limbs twitching.
"What happened?" Shadow Stalker demanded, her voice tight with anger, her
gaze never leaving Saitama. She took a step forward, her body partially
phasing into the wall of the alley. This stranger had dared to attack
their leader. That was unacceptable. She fired a bolt from her crossbow,
the projectile turning into a shadowy form as it sped towards Saitama.
Saitama watched the incoming attack with mild interest. The shadowy bolt
passed harmlessly through his body, dissipating on the brick wall behind
him. He blinked. "Huh. That's... different," he commented, his tone devoid
of any real concern. He hadn't encountered anything quite like that before.
Siberian remained still, its presence a silent threat. It was an "immovable
object, invincible in a way that even Alexandria wasn't". Most attacks
simply passed through it or had no effect. It didn't even flinch at Legend's
energy beams.
Bonesaw, recovering quickly, let out a cackle. "Well now, looks like Jacky
found himself a new playmate! Though he doesn't seem to be playing fair,
does he?" She gestured towards Saitama with a syringe filled with a viscous,
brightly colored liquid. "Don't worry, we can even the odds! I've got
plenty of ways to make things more... interesting!". She lunged forward,
intending to inject Saitama with one of her concoctions, her movements
swift and unsettling.
Saitama sighed again, his gaze drifting back towards where he thought the
supermarket might be. He really wanted to get those discounted vegetables. He
casually sidestepped Bonesaw's lunge, his movement so fast she barely
registered it. She stumbled past him, her syringe missing its target.
Crawler, finally fully within the alley, let out a guttural roar. His form
shifted slightly, adapting, as he analyzed the situation with instinctual
efficiency. He lunged forward, his many arms flailing, each tipped with
razor-sharp claws and hardened protrusions. He attacked with a ferocity
born of countless brutal encounters, a whirlwind of lethal force aimed at
overwhelming Saitama.
Saitama watched Crawler's assault with the same bored indifference he'd
displayed towards Jack's knife. The claws scraped against his clothes,
leaving no mark. The hardened protrusions bounced off him as if he were
made of rubber. "Are you guys done yet?" Saitama asked, a hint of impatience
finally entering his voice. He really didn't have time for this.
Shadow Stalker, seeing her physical attacks were useless, attempted to phase
into Saitama, intending to grapple him or deliver a close-range attack
from within his form. However, as she tried to merge with his space, she
encountered an unexpected resistance, a feeling of hitting an invisible,
unyielding barrier. She recoiled, surprised.
Siberian finally moved, its deceptively graceful form gliding towards
Saitama. It reached out a hand, its touch known to be lethal, capable of
tearing through even resilient materials.
Just as Siberian's hand was about to make contact, Saitama moved with a speed
that none of the Nine could truly track. His fist, still relaxed, shot out
and connected with Siberian's side. the point of impact distorted visibly
as if space itself buckled under the force of Saitama's punch. A shockwave,
though contained, radiated outwards, causing the alley walls to groan.
Siberian form has crack appearing across its monochrome form, like fractured
glass. The flicker in its stance was now undeniably one of pain or damage,
and for the first time, a sound escaped it – a sharp, almost digital
shriek.
Before the Nine could react to this unprecedented event, Saitama turned
his attention to Crawler, who was still relentlessly attacking. With a
simple, almost casual flick of his wrist, Saitama delivered a light tap
to Crawler's head. The monstrous villain froze mid-lunge, his many limbs
twitching erratically for a moment before he collapsed to the ground in
a heap, unconscious.
Bonesaw shrieked in a mixture of fear and excitement. "He touched the
Siberian! You can't touch the Siberian!" Her twisted fascination with the
impossible warred with a primal fear. She fumbled with another syringe,
this one larger and filled with a churning, bioluminescent fluid.
Shadow Stalker, momentarily stunned by Saitama's interaction with Siberian,
shifted back into shadow, attempting to flank him.
Jack, clutching his jaw, finally found his voice, his manipulative facade
cracking under the sheer impossibility of what he was witnessing. "Everyone,
fall back! Now!" His instincts, honed by years of survival, screamed that
this was a threat they couldn't handle.
Siberian, turned its attention back to Saitama, a renewed intensity in
its gaze. But before it could re-engage, its form shimmered and vanished
abruptly, as if it had been abruptly recalled by its master.
Bonesaw, seeing Siberian disappear and Crawler incapacitated, hesitated,
her syringe trembling in her hand. Shadow Stalker remained partially
phased, uncertain.
Saitama, oblivious to the internal turmoil of the remaining villains,
dusted off his yellow suit. "Look pal," he said, turning to Jack with
a hint of his usual boredom returning, "I really do have to get to the
supermarket before they run out of instant noodles. You wouldn't happen
to know where the nearest one is, would you?".
Jack, his mind racing, simply nodded weakly, pointing with a trembling
hand. "T-that way...". His usual charisma and control were completely
shattered. He just wanted this terrifyingly powerful and utterly bizarre
man to leave.
Without another word, Saitama nodded and began to walk in the direction
Jack indicated, his red cape fluttering in the gentle breeze. He hadn't come
to this strange town looking for a fight, but if they came to him... well,
he supposed it was a little less boring than grocery shopping on an empty
stomach.
Shadow Stalker fully rematerialized, her shock and anger evident. Bonesaw
slowly lowered her syringe, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and
morbid curiosity. They looked at Jack, who stood swaying, clutching his
visibly injured jaw, and then to the retreating figure of Saitama.
Together, the remaining members of the Nine helped Jack limp away from
the alley, following the bald man's trail with their eyes, their thoughts
racing. How had they let this happen? How could they have missed someone
so powerful? And what were they going to do now? Their reputation, their
carefully constructed image of untouchable terror, had been shattered in a
matter of moments by a seemingly oblivious man in a yellow suit. The game
had indeed changed in Brockton Bay.
"What was that?" Shadow Stalker demanded, her voice tight with anger.
Jack could only shake his head weakly, unable to form coherent words,
his jaw clearly fractured and causing him excruciating pain.
The remaining members of the Slaughterhouse Nine looked at each other,
confusion and fear etched on their faces. Jack's mind was reeling through
the haze of pain, their plans disrupted by a hairless man in yellow spandex
who could inflict such agony with a single blow.
"What do we do?" one of them whispered, their voice trembling.
Jack looked at them, his face pale and sweaty, clutching his
jaw. "L-let's... keep observing..." he mumbled, his voice barely a
whisper. "For now..."
Saitama continued his casual stroll, the distant sounds of the city's chaos
fading behind him. He cracked his knuckles, a small, almost imperceptible
smile touching his lips. "Maybe I'll even find some good sales on eggs
today," he murmured to himself, already forgetting the strange encounter in
the alleyway. His priority was dinner. The fate of the local bullies was,
to him, a minor inconvenience on his way to the supermarket
As he walked, the ground trembled beneath his feet. He looked up to see
the towering figure of a huge monster approaching. It was one of those
big monsters he'd heard about. This could be interesting.
He took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, and grinned. "Looks like I'll
be getting my workout after all," he murmured to himself. He took off in
a sprint, his legs pumping as he raced to meet the beast head-on.
Their eyes glued to the scene unfolding below. They'd never seen anything
like it. This man, Saitama, was a new kind of threat, one that could topple
them all with a single blow.
"Jesus" one of them whispered, their voice trembling.
Jack looked at them, his jaw still sore but his resolve firm. "We
regroup. We rebuild. And we learn from this." He paused for a moment and
continued. "Because if we don't, we won't survive the next time he decides
to go grocery shopping." he added jokingly. The others looks at Jack in
confusion. Their eyes glued to the fast moving yellow figure in the air.
As Saitama approached the monstrous creature, his fist glowed with a power
that none of them could fathom. The battle was about to begin, a battle
that would shake the very foundations of Brockton Bay.
His cape trailing behind him like a banner. His fist connected with the
Endbringer with a sound that could be heard for miles around. The creature
roared in pain, its massive form staggering backward from the impact. The
air crackled with energy, and the ground shuddered as if in protest.
From every corner of the city, parahumans and civilians alike watched in
awe and horror. Heroes and villains, all of them frozen in place, stared
up at the sky.
The fight was anticlimactic; it took only one punch, and it was over. The
Endbringer lay still, the silence deafening.
The city held its breath, waiting for the creature to get up. But it
never came.
Instead, they saw a strange bald man standing tall amidst the destruction,
his cape fluttering in the breeze. He looked down at the creature, a frown
on his face. "That wasn't as fun as I thought it would be," he murmured,
his voice barely carrying over the ringing in their ears.
The civilian, even the heroes and villains slowly descended from their
hiding places, their eyes on the unassuming figure in the white cape. Some
looks in admiration, others in fear. They knew that the tides had turned,
that the balance of power had shifted.
As the crowd started to approach their champion, Saitama simply turned and
began to walk away. "I've got to get to that supermarket before it closes,"
he called over his shoulder, his voice echoing through the wreckage.
Saitama, indifferent to the awestruck gazes and hushed whispers that followed
him, continued his trek towards the supermarket. His encounter with the
Endbringer, while momentarily entertaining, had done little to alleviate his
pervasive boredom. The creature, for all its size and destructive power,
had simply lacked the strength and speed to pose any real challenge. It
was a fleeting distraction, a mosquito swatted away on a hot summer day.
As he navigated the debris-strewn streets, Saitama reflected on his peculiar
predicament. Trapped in a strange dimension, surrounded by individuals
with extraordinary abilities, yet none capable of pushing him to even a
fraction of his true potential. Well not strange, in fact. It's awfully
similar to his home.
Still, Saitama was not one to dwell on disappointment. He had instant noodles
to buy, a sale to catch. Hold on a sec, is the sale offer Multi-universal. He
thought for a moment. Of course it does. he coped to himself.
Such were the simple pleasures that occupied the mind of the world's
strongest man, a man whose power had rendered the very concept of a
"challenge" obsolete.
Saitama reached the supermarket, its brightly lit facade a beacon of
normalcy in the ravaged cityscape. He paused at the entrance, taking a
moment to savor the familiar scent of instant ramen and cleaning supplies.
"Finally," Saitama murmured, a hint of genuine satisfaction in his
voice. "Time to stock up on some groceries."
He pushed open the doors and stepped inside, the automatic chimes
announcing his arrival. Inside, the supermarket was a scene of organized
chaos. Shelves were overturned, aisles were blocked by fallen debris,
and panicked shoppers scurried about, their faces etched with a mixture
of relief and lingering fear.
Saitama, unfazed by the disarray, grabbed a shopping basket and began
to methodically make his way through the store. He carefully selected
his favorite brand of instant noodles at least a close proximate of it,
comparing prices and checking expiration dates with a meticulousness that
belied his overwhelming power.
"Excuse me," a voice called out, interrupting Saitama's shopping reverie.
Saitama turned to see a young woman, her eyes wide with a mixture of
apprehension and hope. "Are you… are you the one who defeated the
monster?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Saitama blinked, momentarily confused. "Monster?" he echoed. "Oh, you mean
that big thing? Yeah, I guess I did".
"It was… incredible," the woman stammered. "I saw the clip in the news"
She pointed at the tv display connected to the wall. "You… you just
punched it, and it was gone. Just like that".
Saitama shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "It wasn't that strong,"
he replied, picking up a package of discounted seaweed snacks. "I've
faced worse."
The woman stared at him, her mouth agape. "Worse?" she echoed, her voice
barely a whisper. "What could possibly be worse than that?"
Saitama paused for a moment, considering the woman's question. "Worse?" he
echoed thoughtfully. It was true that he had faced some bizarre and
powerful beings in his own dimension. He had punched a giant mosquito, a
skyscraper-sized crab, and even a being that claimed to be the embodiment
of the Earth's will. But none of them had truly challenged him, none had
pushed him to exert even a fraction of his full strength.
"I've fought some pretty strange things," Saitama replied vaguely, deciding
to steer the conversation back to safer territory. He pointed to the package
of seaweed snacks in his hand. "Have you tried these? Are they good?" He
look at the price tag. "They're on sale this week. Hell Yeah!" He grab a
couple pack and throw it in the basket.
The woman continued to stare at him, her mind struggling to comprehend
the casual demeanor of a man who had effortlessly defeated a creature that
had brought entire cities to their knees.
Saitama, oblivious to her astonishment, continued to fill his basket, his
thoughts consumed by the mundane yet satisfying task of grocery shopping. He
had saved the city, defeated a monster, and now he was going to have a
delicious bowl of instant noodles. It was a good day, all things considered.
So the sale offers do transfer. What about my money? Same currency? i hope
they do.
Saitama, oblivious to the stares of other shoppers, reaches the cashier,
his shopping basket filled to the brim with instant noodles, snacks, and
other grocery items. He places his items on the conveyor belt, watching as
the cashier, a middle-aged woman with wary eyes, scans each item with tense
efficiency. The cashier's eyes flick towards Saitama, lingering on his
bald head and plain yellow jumpsuit. She, like many others in the store,
recognizes him from the news, a blurry figure delivering a city-saving
punch to the Endbringer. Now, here he was, buying groceries.
"That'll be 12.48 dollars, sir," the cashier says, her voice tight.
Saitama reaches into his pocket, pulling out a wad of colorful bills with
unfamiliar faces printed on them. The cashier eyes the foreign currency
with suspicion.
"I'm sorry, sir," the cashier says, pushing the bills back towards Saitama,
"we only accept US dollars."
Saitama's shoulders slump. "Uh, I don't have any US dollars," he admits
sheepishly, the prospect of a delicious bowl of instant noodles slipping
away.
Murmurs ripple through the queue behind him.
"Did you see that? He tried to pay with… what was that, Monopoly money?" a
shopper whispers.
"Must be some kinda scam," another mutters.
Saitama feels his cheeks burn. He hadn't meant to cause a scene. He just
wanted his noodles.
Suddenly, a voice rings out from behind him. "Don't worry, I got it." Saitama
turns to see the young woman from earlier, the one who had witnessed his
encounter with the Endbringer in the news, Casey Rose. She steps forward,
a warm smile on her face, and hands the cashier a crisp twenty-dollar bill.
"Keep the change," Casey says, her eyes twinkling. "For saving our city."
Saitama stares at her, speechless for a moment. "Uh… thanks," Saitama
finally manages to say, his cheeks flushing even redder. He gathers his
bags, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. Maybe this new world
wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Hey, no problem," Casey replies, her smile widening. "Consider it a thank
you from everyone." She gestures to the line of shoppers, many of whom
are now nodding and murmuring their agreement.
"Yeah, thanks, mister," a burly man grunts, giving Saitama a thumbs-up. "You
saved our bacon back there."
Saitama nods awkwardly, feeling the tension in the store dissipate.
"I'm Casey Rose, by the way," the woman says, extending a hand.
"Saitama," he replies, shaking her hand.
As they walk out of the supermarket together, Saitama glances at Casey. "So,
what brings a strong hero like you to this city?" he asks curiously,
trying to break the ice.
Casey laughs, a melodious sound. "Strong hero? You're the one who punched
that monster into next Tuesday!" she retorts playfully. "I'm just a normal
person trying to survive in this crazy town."
"I'm just a guy who's a hero for fun," Saitama replies instinctively,
the familiar words feeling a bit hollow in this new context.
They walk in comfortable silence for a moment, the setting sun painting
the sky in hues of orange and purple.
Casey turns to Saitama, her expression a mix of curiosity and genuine
interest. "So, Saitama," she begins, her voice warm, "if you're not from
around here, what brings you to our city?"
"It's a long story," Saitama finally says, scratching his head, wondering
how to explain his interdimensional predicament.
Casey smiles. "I've got time," she replies. "And besides, after you saved
our city, I think I owe you at least that much."
As they walk through the streets of Brockton Bay, Saitama tells Casey
his story, about his life in another dimension, his overwhelming power,
and his never-ending quest for a worthy opponent. Casey listens intently,
her expression shifting from amusement to awe to concern as Saitama recounts
his experiences.
By the time they reach Casey's apartment building, the sky is awash
with stars.
"Well," Casey says, turning to Saitama. "This is me."
"Thanks for the groceries," Saitama replies, holding up his bags. "And
for listening."
"Anytime," Casey says with a smile. "And hey, if you ever need anything,
just let me know. You saved my city, after all."
Saitama hesitates for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Actually,"
he begins, scratching his head, "didn't I tell you I'm not from this world? I
kind of… lost my home. Do you happen to know where I can stay?" He delivers
the last part with a playful grin, as if sharing a lighthearted joke.
Casey chuckles, taking his words as playful banter. Lost your home,
huh? Maybe you should try retracing your steps. I hear interdimensional
travel can be tricky."
Realization dawns on Casey, and her eyes widen with sympathy. "Oh my gosh,
Saitama, I'm so sorry," she blurts out. "Of course you need a place to
stay. Come on in, you can stay with me."
Relief washes over Saitama's face. "Really? You'd do that?"
"Don't be silly," Casey says, ushering him towards the building
entrance. "It's the least I can do after you, you know, saved the entire
city. Besides," she adds with a playful wink, "it'll be an interesting
story to tell – having the world's strongest man as a roommate."
The apartment was small but cozy, filled with the smell of something
delicious cooking. "I hope you don't mind," Casey called over her shoulder,
leading Saitama through the cluttered living room to a tiny kitchenette. "I
figured after everything you've been through, you'd want something more
than instant noodles."
Saitama looked around, his eyes lingering on a photo of a smiling family. "Do
you live here alone?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual despite
the sudden pang of curiosity.
Casey looked up from the stove, a hint of sadness flitting across her
features. "Yeah, I've been on my own for a while now," she replied, her
voice a little softer. "My parents passed away when I was young, and I've
been making my way through life ever since."
"Ah, sorry to hear that," Saitama said sincerely, feeling a twinge of
regret for prying. "It's tough without family."
Casey shrugged, stirring the pot with a wooden spoon. "You get used to
it," she said, her voice carrying a note of forced cheeriness. "But enough
about me. You're the one who just punched an Endbringer"
Saitama leaned against the counter, watching Casey as she cooked.
"You're pretty good at this," he commented, his mouth watering at the
aroma of the simmering stew.
Casey chuckled. "It's just a simple beef stew," she said, her cheeks
coloring slightly. "But thanks."
Saitama couldn't help but smile as he watched her, the warmth of the
apartment and the smell of cooking food bringing him a sense of comfort he
hadn't felt in a long time. It reminded him of his mother, who had always
greeted him with a hot meal after his long days of after school.
Casey caught his smile and raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked, glancing
over her shoulder.
Saitama looked down at his hands. "It's nothing," he said, his voice tinged
with nostalgia. "You just reminded me of my mother, that's all."
Casey paused, a plate of steaming beef stew in her hand. "Oh," she said
softly, understanding in her eyes.
"It's been a while since I've had a home-cooked meal. This smells amazing."
As Casey was about to bring the food to the table, Saitama suddenly rushed
over, his eyes widening with excitement at the prospect of being useful. "Let
me help," he said, gently taking the plate of beef stew from her hand.
She couldn't help but laugh at his eager demeanor, a light blush
creeping up her cheeks as she realized he was standing closer than she'd
anticipated. They playfully bumped into each other, their hands brushing
together as they maneuvered the dishes to the table.
"Thank you," she murmured, looking up at him with a smile.
Saitama, caught off guard by her closeness and the sweetness in her voice,
felt his own cheeks warm. "Don't mention it," he said, trying to sound
casual. He quickly set the plate down and stepped back.
They sat down at the small, round table in the corner of the living room,
the TV playing the news report of the battle in the background. Casey sat
opposite Saitama, curiosity burning in her eyes. "So, tell me more about
your world," she said, her voice gentle.
Saitama took a bite of the stew, savoring the flavor. It had been too
long since he'd tasted something other than instant noodles. "My world
is pretty normal," he began, swallowing. "Well, aside from the monsters,
aliens, and all the other stuff that keeps trying to wipe out humanity."
Casey's eyes lit up. "So, it's like our world, but with more punching?" she
asked, her tone playful.
Saitama chuckled, nodding. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He took
another bite, watching Casey from the corner of his eye. She was beautiful,
with her wavy chestnut hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to sparkle
with every question she asked.
Casey leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper, "So, what's it like,
being so powerful?"
Saitama swallowed his stew and took a sip of water. "It's… lonely," he
admitted. "There's no one strong enough to challenge me, so every victory
feels hollow."
Her gaze softened, and she placed a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."
Saitama felt his heart skip a beat. He wasn't used to this kind of attention,
especially not from someone as charming as Casey. Her flirtatious tone
was light, but the warmth in her eyes was undeniable. He couldn't help
but feel a little flustered, his cheeks warming up.
"Thanks," he mumbled, looking away to hide his blush.
Casey giggled, taking her hand back to slice another piece of bread. "Don't
be so shy," she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You're the hero
of the city now. You should get used to the attention."
Saitama's heart was racing, and he felt a strange, unfamiliar warmth
spreading through his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to calm
himself. "So, uh, Casey," he started, his voice a little shakier than he'd
like. "What's it like… being a hero here?"
Casey leaned back in her chair, her smile fading slightly, though her eyes
remained warm. "Oh, wow," she said, taking a moment to gather her thoughts,
"being a hero… Well, it's not really like that, for me, anyway. It's
hard sometimes, you know? This city is always in chaos, it feels like,"
she gestured around the room as if to encompass the chaos of Brockton Bay,
"like things are constantly falling apart. But it's good when people come
together to help each other." She paused, looking at Saitama with genuine
gratitude."I'm glad I could help you out with the groceries, and that you
could help us all with… well," she chuckled softly, "with everything."
Saitama nodded slowly, taking in her words. "Yeah," he said, his voice
a little softer than usual. "It's not easy when things are crazy, even
back home. It's good when people look out for each other." He paused,
thinking about the young boy who had asked him for help, and the woman at
the grocery store with the wary eyes. "I guess, that's what I'm trying to
do too. Just do what I can, where I am."
Casey smiled, her eyes sparkling. "Exactly," she agreed. "It's about doing
what you can, where you are. Even little things. Like helping someone
with groceries or… you know, saving a city. It all matters, right?" She
tapped her fingers on the table, thinking for a moment. "Honestly, after
today, I'm just happy that I could help you a little, and that I saw you
help everyone. We all need to be there for one another, or we'll never get
through it" She blushed slightly, and looked away. "So, uh… what about your
world?" she asked, eager to change the topic. "Is it the same kind of crazy?"
Saitama nodded, feeling a kinship with her. "Yeah," he murmured, his
thoughts drifting to the countless battles he'd fought back home. "That's
all I ever wanted too."
The conversation lulled for a moment, and the air grew thick with something
unspoken. Casey leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "You
know, for someone so powerful, you're surprisingly… human," she said
softly.
Saitama looked at her, his heart racing. Was this flirting? He'd read
about it in manga but never quite understood the subtleties. He took a
deep breath, trying to play it cool. "Well, I've always tried to be,"
he replied, hoping he didn't sound too awkward.
Casey's smile grew, and she reached over to touch his hand gently. "I like
that about you," she whispered, her voice a sweet caress. Saitama's eyes
widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He looked down
at their hands for a moment, as if studying the contact. Then, he gently
turned his hand over, lightly clasping hers. His touch was hesitant, but
firm. "I'm not sure what to say," he admitted, his voice a low murmur,
"but that's… nice."
Her eyes searched his, her smile never faltering. "What do you mean?" she
asked, genuinely puzzled.
Saitama paused, considering her question. "I don't… understand this." He
gestured between them, his brow furrowed slightly. "This kind of thing. I'm
not used to it."
Casey's eyes widened, and she leaned back in her chair, a hand over
her mouth, trying to suppress a laugh. "Oh my god," she said, her voice
muffled. "You're serious."
Saitama nodded, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "I've been on dates before,
but it's been a while. I usually just eat and then leave."
Her laughter filled the room, light and bubbly. "You're something else,
Saitama," she said, her eyes shining with mirth. "A guy with the strength
of a god, and you're confused about… flirting."
Saitama's expression softened slightly at her words. "Why is that funny?" he
asked. "Is it strange?"
Casey's expression grew thoughtful. "I guess it is, for someone like
you. But it's also... refreshing. Most of the capes around here have egos
bigger than this city. It's nice to meet someone who's… well, humble."
Encouraged, Saitama took a deep breath. "So, if I'm getting it wrong,
just tell me," he said, his voice earnest. "I don't want to do anything
you don't like."
Her laughter died down, and she studied him for a moment, her gaze
gentle. "You're not getting it wrong," she assured him. "Just a little…
unexpected." Leaning forward, Casey reached out and kissed Saitama
on the cheek. It was a soft, lingering touch, filled with warmth and
gratitude. "This one's for saving us," she whispered.
Saitama's eyes widened, and his hand went to his cheek, a small smile
playing on his lips. He met her gaze directly and nodded. "I think…
I understand that," he said quietly. He seemed genuinely touched by the
gesture, but also slightly puzzled.
Saitama's hand shot out, almost knocking over his chair in his haste to
help. "Let me do it," he protested, his voice gruff with embarrassment.
Casey just smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've done enough," she
said firmly. "You saved my city. The least I can do is a little clean-up."
Her words were like a balm to his bruised ego. He had never been treated
so kindly after a battle before. Usually, he was met with fear or awe,
not… this.
Not friendship, not warmth, not… attraction?