"So, what are we doing today sensei?" Asked Genos, walking alongside Saitama.
"I told you already, we are going to Bang's dojo to learn some moves." Answered Saitama flatly, hands in his pockets.
"Really? I don't recall you saying that, sensei. I tell you because I write down everything you say, just in case I need it later." Said Genos with mechanical seriousness.
"That… is right actually. I didn't say anything. Oh well, sorry Genos, my bad." Saitama scratched the back of his head.
"Don't sweat it, sensei."
After several hours of what Saitama called "intense exercise"—which to him meant fucking his girlfriend for several hours, and then dozing off at Mizuki's apartment—he finally decided to do something that at least sounded productive after he let go of his anger because of the Tanktop statue.
So, he texted Genos, asking him to meet up so they could head to Bang's dojo together.
The reason? Simple. Saitama wanted to become even stronger. Not that he needed it, but a small part of him wondered if technique could make it improve enough in case he have to face God.
After all, he remembered that after Boros, it wouldn't be long before Garou's arc began, and consequently, the Monster Association's arc.
Speaking of which, he had already patrolled all of Z-City, yet he hadn't found even a trace or clue that could lead him to the Association's base. Whatever they were using to camouflage the base and hide it was good because he hadn't been able to find it yet.
But going back to training...
He also thought it might be good for Genos, whose reliance on raw firepower made him predictable. Strength alone could bulldoze anything in Saitama's case, but for Genos, technique might be the difference between victory and being scrapped for parts.
Plus, Bang had invited them more times than Saitama could count, and he figured it was about time to stop ignoring the old man's hospitality.
When they reached the dojo, the sight was familiar: the sliding wooden doors, the faint smell of tatami mats, and Bang himself sweeping the entrance like any ordinary retiree.
"Ho ho, if it isn't Saitama and Genos," Bang greeted with a smile. "I was starting to think you two were avoiding me."
Saitama raised a hand lazily. "Yo. Sorry for showing up late… like, several months late."
Genos bowed sharply. "Master Bang, thank you for your patience. We are here to train under your guidance!"
"Good, good," Bang chuckled. "Come inside. It's rare to have disciples who can destroy my walls with a sneeze, but let's see if you can at least pretend to practice properly."
Inside, Charanko was already struggling through some basic stances, nearly tipping over with every punch. When he saw Saitama and Genos, his jaw nearly dropped.
"W-what?! Master invited them here too?!"
Hey's Bang disciple, he…what was he called? I forgot, shit. Thought Saitama while looking at Charanko.
Saitama leaned over to Genos, whispering just loud enough for Charanko to hear. "Hey, who's the guy in pajamas?"
"That's Charanko, sensei. Bang's current disciple." Genos answered.
"Wait—seriously? That's the best you got, old man?" Saitama asked Bang, blinking.
Charanko's face turned bright red. "H-hey! Don't underestimate me! I've been training for years!"
"Years? Damn. That's rough," Saitama muttered, rubbing his chin.
Seeing him upclose, I gotta admit, it doesn't seem to me like he's been studying for years. Gotta feel bad for the guy. He's the only disciple of Bang who didn't quit, and yet he's still by far the weakest. At least that guarantees Garou won't come for him. I don't think he'd be interested in someone who isn't a hero and isn't strong after all.
Bang clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "Alright, enough chatter. Let's begin. Today's lesson: channeling power with precision instead of brute force. Even a river needs to know where to flow."
Genos' eyes lit up. "Yes, Master!"
Saitama sighed. "Man… I was hoping for something simpler, like a ten-minute crash course. Guess we're doing this for real."
Bang smirked. "If you endure even half of today's training, Saitama, I'll consider it a miracle."
"Heh," Saitama grinned, "don't underestimate me old man."
"I'm not. You shouldn't underestimate my training." Bang replied with a small grin.
Genos stood to the side of his master, eyes blazing with anticipation. "Sensei, with Bang's guidance, I'll refine my techniques. Please allow me to assist you during the exercises."
Saitama waved him off, scratching the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah, sure. Don't overdo it, Genos."
From the corner of the room, Charanko knelt politely, arms resting on his knees. He wasn't training today; Bang had ordered him to just watch and observe how the dojo's discipline worked when applied to outsiders. Still, he couldn't help but narrow his eyes at Saitama's casual posture.
This bald guy doesn't even look serious… and yet, master is actually treating him like a real student. Weird.
Bang clapped his hands once. "Warm-up first. You two—stretches, stances, and controlled breathing. Discipline begins with the body, not with the fists."
Genos immediately obeyed, lowering into stances, carefully replicating the instructions with mechanical precision. Every stretch was perfect, every breath measured. The faint sound of hydraulics hummed as he adjusted his body to mimic human muscle control.
Saitama, however, stretched like he was just getting out of bed after a nap. Arms up, half a yawn, legs spread out in an easy reach. It looked careless—almost disrespectful—but to anyone paying close attention, there was an odd natural fluidity in the way he moved, as if his body instinctively knew what balance and efficiency meant.
Inside, though, his thoughts weren't as casual. Man, I can't believe I'm here. Bang's dojo. Silver Fang himself is right in front of me… this is surreal. Back in my old life, I used to binge-watch his fight clips, read forum threads about Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist. And now? I'm about to train under him for real. This is insane.
Of course, he didn't let that show. To everyone else, he was just Saitama—aloof, bored-looking, and impossible to read.
"Good. Now, stance training," Bang ordered. "Hold your positions, let your weight sink, breathe through your core. You will feel the ground differently if you let your balance dictate the flow."
Genos lowered into the stance immediately, his legs locked like steel, with determination burning in his eyes.
Saitama copied it halfheartedly, though in truth he was paying close attention. Okay… weight distribution on the legs, not too rigid, not too loose. I'm learning Bang's martial art… man, this is so cool.
Bang's sharp eyes scanned them both. "Genos, you're too stiff. If you fight like that, your body will break before your spirit does. Saitama…" He paused, frowning faintly. "You're too relaxed. Like water with no container. You'll spill before you strike."
Saitama shrugged. "Eh sorry, I'll try to do it better."
Bang's smirk deepened. "We'll see."
The training moved from stances to movements—fluid sequences of strikes, parries, and sweeps. Genos attacked with almost mechanical sharpness, his blows heavy and precise. Saitama, meanwhile, moved as if he was half-distracted, letting his arms swing and feet shuffle with minimal effort. To Charanko, it looked ridiculous.
But Bang noticed something else. There was no wasted motion or imbalance in his movements. Even when Saitama appeared clumsy, his body naturally flowed into the correct positions, almost as though his instincts had already digested the principles without ever practicing them.
Genos clenched his fists, panting from exertion despite being a cyborg. "Sensei… I still cannot match the rhythm of this style!"
Saitama grinned. "Don't sweat it, Genos. You'll get it eventually."
Damn, he thought secretly, suppressing a grin. This is everything I imagined. Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist, live in front of me. I get to see it, practice it, feel it. If the guys on the forums knew where I was right now, they'd lose their minds.
Bang straightened his posture, his voice sharp. "Enough warm-up. Now, the real training begins. Come at me—both of you. Let me see what you can do."
The wooden floor creaked faintly under their steps as Bang motioned them into the center of the dojo. Charanko, sitting cross-legged by the wall, tilted his head nervously, his eyes darting between his master and the two unusual guests.
Bang rolled his shoulders, his movements calm, deliberate. His presence alone carried the weight of decades of refinement of his techniques.
Genos stepped forward first, his eyes glowing amber. "Sensei, allow me to start. I'll cover your advance."
Saitama nodded firmly. "Understood. Keep focused, Genos. Bang isn't just another opponent. He's a master for a reason."
Those words made Bang arch an eyebrow. Most people underestimated him or brushed off his calm demeanor. This bald young man did not.
"Come," Bang said simply, and then he moved.
It was almost impossible to follow. His frame blurred as he closed the distance with Genos, a sweeping palm aimed at his chest. Genos' boosters flared, intercepting the strike with an armored forearm. Sparks flew as the impact rattled the dojo.
Saitama slipped in right after, low and fast, trying to flank Bang's side with a clean straight punch. Not reckless, not lazy—but precise, tight-form, drilled into muscle memory.
Bang twisted at the last second, guiding the punch off-line with a subtle redirection of his wrist. The air cracked from the sheer force behind Saitama's strike, enough to rattle the wooden beams above.
Charanko's jaw dropped. "That…that would have broken the wall if master hadn't deflected it!"
Bang's smirk widened faintly. "Not bad, boy."
Genos launched a counter, his palms firing a low-power blast aimed at Bang's legs, hoping to limit his mobility. Bang bent low, spinning on his heel, his foot lashing out in a hook-like arc that clipped Genos' shoulder and sent him skidding back across the tatami.
Saitama was already moving in again, no hesitation. His mind wasn't on proving superiority—it was on learning, on testing himself. Each strike he threw wasn't wild; it was measured, carrying the respect of someone who knew what Bang's martial art represented.
Their fists and palms collided in bursts that sent controlled shockwaves rippling through the air. Saitama adjusted his breathing, trying to read Bang's rhythm—every shift in weight, every flicker of intent. His body felt alive in ways his old world never allowed.
Bang noted it instantly. Unlike the cyborg, this boy isnn't just swinging with power. He is thinking.
"You've studied combat before," Bang commented mid-exchange, parrying a sharp elbow from Saitama.
"Studied… admired… dreamed of it, yeah," Saitama replied between breaths, his eyes sharp. "Now I'm experiencing it first hand."
Bang's eyes glimmered. For a fleeting second, he saw the spark of a true disciple—one who carried not arrogance, but hunger to grow.
Genos re-entered with a burst of acceleration, coming from behind. Bang pivoted to intercept, but Saitama cut in, throwing his shoulder forward to block Bang's counter, giving Genos a narrow opening.
A coordinated strike—one of raw power and one of sharpened instinct—came crashing down on the master.
Bang flowed like water, bending under Genos' strike while guiding Saitama's arm past him. His counter was immediate: a sweeping circular palm that struck both students' centers in a fluid arc, sending them staggering back at the same time.
The dojo trembled and after a while, only silence followed.
Bang straightened, not even winded. "Better. Much better. You fight with more spirit than I expected, bald one."
Saitama inhaled deeply, sweat glistening on his brow. He wasn't smirking or joking—he bowed lightly, fists at his sides. "Thank you for the match, Bang. Please… continue to guide us."
For the first time in a long while, Bang let out a hearty laugh. "Hah! You're nothing like the usual fools who come here. Very well, then. From today onward, I'll show you both what it means to walk the path of the martial artist."
Charanko blinked, stunned. He had never seen his master so eager.
Meanwhile Saitama only smiled.
Man, he is so cool. Plus, he seems to be a great teacher, how was Garou able to betray someone as admirable as him? Well it doesn't matter, because this time I will not let him damage anyone or anything, in the minute he appears I will face him and kick his ass. Thought the now determined hero.
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