The sun barely peeked over the Chicago skyline when Mark Grayson found himself face-down in a muddy field, gasping for air. His Invincible suit was smeared with dirt, his goggles hung crooked, and his pride was somewhere back in the city, probably crying.
"Again," Saitama said, standing over him with a stopwatch and a half-eaten granola bar.
Mark groaned, rolling onto his back. "This is torture. I thought you said training would be fun!"
"It is fun," Saitama replied, crunching his snack. "For me."
Mark glared. "You're not even sweating."
Saitama shrugged, his yellow tracksuit pristine despite the morning's chaos. "Sweating's overrated. Now, up. Fifty more push-ups, then we run to Wisconsin."
"Wisconsin?!"
"Yup. Heard they've got a monster problem. Plus, good cheese."
Mark dragged himself to his feet, muttering about sadistic bald mentors. It had been a week since Saitama agreed to train him, and Mark was starting to regret asking. The plan was simple—push-ups, sit-ups, squats, and "life-threatening monster fights." But Saitama's definition of "simple" was like calling a supernova a sparkler.
Their first session had been… humbling. Saitama made Mark carry a dumpster across town ("Builds character!"), then had him dodge frisbees thrown at Mach 1 ("Improves reflexes!"). When Mark complained, Saitama just handed him a protein shake and said, "Heroes don't whine. They punch."
Now, in this muddy field, Mark was learning the hard way that Saitama's training wasn't just physical—it was mental. And possibly spiritual. Or just plain mean.
"Push-up forty-nine," Mark grunted, arms shaking. "Fifty!"
Saitama clicked the stopwatch. "Not bad. Now, squats. Imagine you're dodging a meteor."
Mark squinted. "Why a meteor?"
"'Cause it's cooler than a truck."
Before Mark could argue, a low rumble shook the ground. Trees swayed. Birds scattered. Mark froze mid-squat.
"Saitama… what was that?"
Saitama tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. "Dunno. Sounds big. Wanna check it out?"
Mark's eyes lit up. "A monster? Yes! Let's go!"
Saitama sighed. "Kids these days. Always so excited to get punched."
The source of the rumble was a half-mile away, in an abandoned quarry that smelled like wet stone and regret. A massive creature—part lizard, part bulldozer, with glowing red eyes and a tail that could level a city block—tore through the rock like it was Styrofoam. Its roar was so loud it made Mark's teeth vibrate.
"Huh," Saitama said, hands in his pockets. "That's a big iguana."
"That's not an iguana!" Mark shouted, hovering above the chaos. "That's a kaiju-level threat!"
"Kaiju, iguana, same diff. Go punch it."
Mark blinked. "Me? You're the one who flicks aliens into orbit!"
"Training," Saitama said, sitting on a boulder. "You punch. I watch. Maybe eat this granola bar."
Mark groaned but flew toward the beast. "Fine! But if I die, I'm haunting you!"
The monster noticed him immediately, swiping with a claw the size of a minivan. Mark dodged, barely, and slammed a fist into its snout. The creature staggered but roared louder, spitting acid that melted a nearby crane.
"Whoa!" Mark yelped, diving behind a rock. "This thing's got chemical weapons!"
Saitama yawned. "Try punching harder."
"Harder?! I'm not you!"
"Then be you. Just, y'know, better."
Mark gritted his teeth. Saitama's advice was maddeningly vague, but it lit something in him. He wasn't just Invincible—he was Mark Grayson, and he wasn't about to let a giant lizard show him up in front of his weird mentor.
With a yell, Mark launched himself at the creature, weaving through acid sprays and tail swipes. He landed a flurry of punches—boom, boom, BOOM—each one shaking the quarry. The monster roared, dazed, and Mark seized the moment, grabbing its tail and hurling it into a rock wall.
The impact echoed like thunder. Dust clouded the air.
Mark landed, panting. "Did… did I do it?"
The dust cleared. The monster was down, twitching but alive.
Saitama clapped slowly. "Not bad. Kinda sloppy, but you didn't die."
Mark grinned, adrenaline pumping. "Sloppy? I just threw a kaiju!"
"Yeah, but you screamed like a kid on a rollercoaster."
Before Mark could retort, the monster stirred, eyes glowing brighter. It unleashed a sonic scream that sent Mark tumbling backward, crashing into a pile of gravel.
"Okay," Mark groaned, spitting dirt. "Now I'm mad."
Saitama stood, dusting off his tracksuit. "Want me to finish it?"
"No!" Mark shouted, staggering to his feet. "I got this!"
He charged again, faster this time, dodging the monster's claws with newfound precision. He could feel Saitama's eyes on him—not judging, not mocking, just… watching. Expecting.
Mark ducked a tail swipe, grabbed a boulder, and smashed it into the creature's jaw. The monster staggered, and Mark followed with an uppercut that sent it crashing into the quarry floor, unconscious.
Silence.
Mark floated down, chest heaving. "Okay… now I did it."
Saitama nodded. "Better. Still screamed, though."
Mark laughed, too exhausted to argue. "You're the worst mentor ever."
"Thanks."
Back in the city, the Teen Team had their own problems. Doc Seismic's attack had left downtown in shambles, and rumors of Omni-Man's betrayal were spreading like wildfire on X. The team gathered in their HQ, a converted warehouse with flickering lights and a fridge that always smelled like old pizza.
"We need to talk about the bald guy," Rexplode said, slamming a fist on the table.
Eve sighed. "You're still on this? Saitama saved us from Doc Seismic."
"Yeah, and he's creepy strong," Rexplode shot back. "What if he's another Omni-Man? We don't even know where he's from!"
Robot's monitor glowed. "Saitama's actions suggest benevolence. He neutralized a kaiju-level threat this morning with Mark, saving civilian lives."
Dupli-Kate raised an eyebrow. "He's training Mark now? That's… weirdly wholesome."
"Or a power grab," Rexplode muttered.
Monster Girl leaned back, sipping a soda. "I like him. He's got no ego. Plus, he brought me tacos last week."
Eve smirked. "You're bribed by tacos?"
"Good tacos."
Robot interjected. "Cecil's team has been monitoring Saitama. No malicious intent detected. However, his power exceeds all known metrics. If he were to turn against us…"
"He won't," Mark said, walking in with Saitama trailing behind, holding a bag of churros.
Rexplode jumped up. "How'd you get in here?!"
"Door was open," Saitama said, offering a churro. "Want one?"
Rexplode swatted it away. "I don't trust you!"
Saitama shrugged. "More for me."
Mark stepped forward. "Guys, Saitama's not the enemy. He's teaching me how to be better. Stronger. We need that, especially now."
Eve nodded. "Mark's right. With Omni-Man… gone, we're vulnerable. Saitama's a game-changer."
Rexplode grumbled but sat down. "Fine. But I'm watching you, Baldy."
Saitama munched a churro. "Cool. Watch me eat."
That night, under the Pentagon's red-lit chamber, Nolan stirred. The restraints hummed with energy, but his eyes burned with purpose. A shadowed figure stood beyond the glass—a Viltrumite, cloaked in darkness.
"You failed," the figure said, voice like gravel.
Nolan smirked, blood crusted on his lip. "I softened them. Earth's heroes are fractured. The boy's distracted."
"And the anomaly?"
Nolan's smirk faded. "He's… a problem."
The figure leaned closer. "Then we eliminate him."
Nolan chuckled. "Good luck. He's not human. Not Viltrumite. He's something else."
The figure vanished, leaving Nolan alone with his thoughts—and a flicker of doubt.
Back at the Grayson house, Mark and Saitama sat on the roof, sharing a pizza. The city sparkled below, oblivious to the storm brewing.
"So," Mark said, wiping sauce off his chin. "What's the next lesson?"
Saitama leaned back, staring at the stars. "Patience. You're strong, but you rush. Heroes wait for the right moment."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "You? Patient? You punch everything in three seconds."
Saitama grinned. "That's 'cause I already waited. Years of it. Push-ups, sit-ups, running—boring stuff. But it made me who I am."
Mark nodded, absorbing the words. "Okay. Patience. Got it."
Saitama tossed him a soda. "Also, dodge better. You're still screaming too much."
Mark laughed, catching the can. "Deal."
As they sat, a distant explosion lit the horizon. Sirens wailed. Mark tensed, but Saitama just sipped his drink.
"Another monster?" Mark asked.
Saitama stood, stretching. "Yup. Wanna race?"
Mark grinned, pulling on his goggles. "You're on."
They leapt into the night, a blur of yellow and blue against the stars, ready for whatever came next—monsters, Viltrumites, or maybe just another churro run.
End of Chapter 6