"Good, good, the two of you, keep it like that," said Bang to Saitama and Genos as he observed them from a few meters away.
They were in the dojo's garden, a serene space shaped by tradition: a koi pond shimmered in the corner, stone lanterns dotted the gravel paths, and cherry trees cast shifting shadows under the breeze. The air was calm, in stark contrast to the repeated snap of fists cutting through it.
For hours, they had been drilling the same two techniques: Oi-zuki, the lunge punch, and Gyaku-zuki, the reverse punch. Over and over again. Stances corrected, fists aligned, hips twisted just so.
Saitama had thrown the upper part of his suit and was now shirtless, as it was very uncomfortable to repeat this technique a long time with his spandex put on. However Genos was dressed the same way as he had come to the Dojo.
Saitama's brow furrowed as he exhaled sharply through his nose.
We've been doing this for hours. I mean, I get it—I'm not dumb, I know basics matter. But just punching the air like this? Where's the progression? The application? Surely there's more to martial arts than this…
Yet, even with the irritation bubbling beneath his skin, he kept his mouth shut. If there was anyone he trusted on the subject of martial arts, it was Bang. A master didn't make you do something without a reason.
But then Genos stopped.
His fists lowered, his stance broke, and his synthetic voice rose with frustration. "Sensei Bang, this… this is a waste of our time!!"
The sharpness of his tone stunned both Saitama and Bang.
"Learning one move and repeating it thousands of times is meaningless!" Genos continued, hands clenched at his sides, lenses bright with indignation. "Why would anyone practice something so basic endlessly? It's illogical! I was built to adapt, to upgrade—I need techniques, data, real progress, not this!!"
Silence descended, broken only by the faint ripple of the pond.
Saitama stared, wide-eyed. In all the time he had known Genos, he had seen him burn with obsession, he had seen him push himself into reckless battles, but he had never seen him lose his composure like this.
Bang stepped forward, his expression unreadable. His sandals crunched against the gravel as he approached. For a long moment, he just stared at Genos, who stiffened under the weight of that calm, unwavering gaze.
Then, without a word, Bang settled into the same stance they had been drilling. His feet dug into the earth, his spine aligned like a taut bowstring. And then—he punched.
The motion was nothing spectacular. Bang didn't shout, nor he did an explosion of speed. He just threw a punch, like the thousands they had thrown that day.
But the effect—
CRACK.
The large stone set in the garden split down the middle as if it had been cleaved with a blade. The halves toppled with a dull thud.
Both Saitama and Genos froze, eyes wide.
"Cool!" Saitama blurted, grinning despite himself.
Genos, however, was shaken in a different way. His processors raced, his sensors replaying the moment frame by frame. "Impossible… he didn't even accelerate the punch beyond our speed. He didn't amplify his power output. He used the same input we've been using—so how did he…"
Bang chuckled, folding his hands behind his back. "Someone once told me, 'I fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced one kick ten thousand times.' A good phrase, don't you think?"
He turned his head toward Genos, one eyebrow raised.
Genos' lips parted, then closed again, his mind unable to reconcile the data.
Saitama, meanwhile, raised an eyebrow of his own. Wait… wasn't that a Bruce Lee quote? Don't tell me this world has its own Bruce Lee knockoff. Or maybe… Bang's brother said it? That would be hilarious. He smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with private amusement.
Bang sighed softly, then addressed them both, his tone patient but firm. "Repetition is the mother of mastery. Every strike you throw teaches you something—how your weight shifts, how your breathing aligns, how your body generates force. Perfecting a single move can make the difference between victory and defeat. Believe it or not, young man, that is the truth."
He turned slightly, his gaze now fixed on Saitama. "And you understand this more than you let on, don't you?"
Saitama blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, his reincarnated instincts surged—his knowledge as a fan, his awareness of what martial arts meant in this world. He scratched his cheek, looking away. "…Yeah. Guess I do."
Bang smiled knowingly. "Then show him. Help him understand."
Saitama straightened his stance again, fists tightening, his irritation forgotten. This isn't just busywork. This is the foundation. And if I want to walk the path of a true martial artist, I'd better start with the very first stone.
Beside him, Genos clenched his jaw, and after a moment's hesitation, he lowered back into stance too.
The sound of fists cutting the air resumed, sharper, steadier than before.
(A few hours later…)
Night had fallen over the dojo, so Bang had made them stop with the training for today. Although both of them could keep going, Bang advised they at least take a break for dinner. Apparently, Charanko had prepared miso soup. So, obviously, they couldn't turn down the offer.
The four of them sat around the low table in the dojo's modest dining area. The steaming bowls were placed in front of them, filling the room with a comforting aroma of dashi, tofu, and scallions.
"Not bad, Charanko," Bang said after the first sip, his stern features softening ever so slightly. "At least you're improving at something."
"Sensei! You don't have to phrase it like that every time," Charanko pouted, though his pride was obvious. "I worked hard on this one. Used the good miso paste from the market, too."
Genos, who was meticulous even in eating, sampled a small spoonful. His eyes flickered for a second as if processing the exact nutritional breakdown of the dish. "Hmm. Salt balance is optimal. Calories within healthy range. A well-made dish, Charanko."
Charanko's face lit up. "See! Genos gets it!"
Saitama chuckled quietly into his bowl before taking a long sip. "Honestly, it's great. Way better than instant ramen… You could open a shop with this."
Charanko nearly choked on his soup at the compliment. "Y-you really think so?!"
Bang gave him a sideways glance. "Don't get ahead of yourself, boy. One decent pot of miso soup doesn't make a chef."
The reincarnated Saitama smiled warmly at the banter. Unlike the "canon" Saitama's usual detached indifference, he actually savored moments like these. The warmth of the soup, the smell of tatami mats, the quiet company—it all reminded him how surreal it was to be living here, sharing dinner with characters he once only watched behind a screen. He found himself feeling grateful, almost nostalgic.
Genos set his bowl down with perfect form. "Sensei, regarding today's sparring session… your ability to adapt mid-fight was remarkable. Even Master Bang acknowledged it."
Saitama scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Ah… I'm still rough around the edges. I just tried to keep up, really. Bang's movements were insane—I almost lost track a couple of times."
Bang's smirk widened. "Almost. But not quite. You've got a sharp eye, boy. If you keep at it, you might actually be worth something. Though don't flatter yourself yet—you're leagues away from real mastery."
Instead of shrugging it off, Saitama nodded seriously. "I know. That's why I'm here. I don't care how long it takes—I want to grow stronger the right way."
Bang's expression softened for a fraction of a second, though he hid it quickly behind another sip of soup. "Good answer."
Charanko tilted his head. "Stronger the right way? What do you mean?"
Saitama paused, realizing he'd almost said too much. To someone like him—a reincarnated fan—the words carried layers of meaning. He wanted to train, not just brute-force his way into power with some insane routine. He wanted the journey, the sweat, the exhaustion, the laughter at dinner after. The real thing.
He smiled faintly. "I just mean… I don't want to waste the chance I've got here. If I'm gonna train, I want to do it properly. Not half-hearted."
Charanko blinked, then gave him a thumbs-up. "That's the spirit! Guess you and Genos are really made for this place."
Genos straightened with pride. "Indeed. As disciples of Master Bang, we must uphold his teachings with discipline and integrity."
"Disciples, huh?" Bang muttered, shaking his head. "Well, as long as you're not freeloaders, I suppose I can tolerate it."
They all chuckled, the clinking of bowls and the gentle hum of night crickets outside filling the pauses in their conversation. For the reincarnated Saitama, it was one of those small but powerful moments—the kind of thing he never thought he'd get to live.
---
After the meal, both Genos and Saitama stayed behind to help clear the table. Genos, ever dutiful, insisted on doing the dishes himself, earning a thankful nod from Bang and a polite bow from Charanko. Once everything was done, Charanko excused himself, offering a respectful "Goodnight, Master" before disappearing into the hall. Genos, ever restless, excused himself as well, announcing he would return to the garden to continue training.
That left only Bang and Saitama.
The two of them eventually drifted toward the balcony of the dojo. The night air was cool, carrying the faint fragrance of pine and soil from the garden below. From where they stood, they could see the koi pond faintly reflecting the moonlight, the occasional ripple distorting the otherwise perfect silver sheen. For a few minutes, neither spoke, letting the silence stretch naturally between them.
Then, as though breaking the quiet on a whim, Bang began to chuckle, recalling a story.
"…so then, I broke his nose without even doubting it, and I told him that if he stood back up, not even the doctors would recognize him. Hahaha!" Bang barked, his old warrior's laugh echoing off the wooden beams of the dojo.
Saitama gave him a look, somewhere between puzzled and concerned. I don't know if I missed the punchline, but that really didn't sound funny at all… he thought to himself, lips tightening into a thin line as he waited for the old man's laughter to subside.
When it finally did, Bang exhaled, the humor giving way to a softer expression. "You know," he said suddenly, turning to look at his guest, "I'm happy you finally accepted my invitation."
Saitama blinked, caught off guard. "Oh, well… don't thank me only. Genos wanted to pass by too, and honestly, I figured this was a good chance to learn something from a real martial arts master." His tone was respectful, without a trace of irony.
"Heh," Bang smiled knowingly, "I bet. So tell me, am I living up to the title? Am I a good teacher?"
Saitama didn't hesitate. "Yeah. You are, actually. It kind of makes me wonder, though… why do you only have Charanko as a student now? No offense to the kid—he's hardworking—but he doesn't really scream 'martial arts prodigy' to me."
Bang chuckled again, this time softer, almost wistful. "Hahaha, yeah… you're not wrong. Charanko's no prodigy. But he's earnest, and that counts for more than talent sometimes. Still, to answer your question… there was a time when my dojo had dozens of students. A thriving school, full of energy and ambition."
He paused there, and his face shadowed. His eyes, usually sharp and lively despite his age, darkened. "…That was before Garou."
The name dropped between them like a weight. Saitama's brow furrowed slightly. So he's finally going to tell me, huh? he thought, already well aware of how the story went from the anime and manga of his past life. But knowing the tale was one thing—hearing it directly from Bang, in this world, carried a different weight entirely. He leaned forward slightly, with his interest piqued.
"Garou?" Saitama asked, playing his part, tilting his head with feigned confusion. "Who's that?"
Bang's gaze drifted out toward the moonlit garden, as if the koi pond itself could help him shoulder the memory. "…It's a long story. But if you have the time, I could tell you."
Saitama gave a slow nod. "I've got time."
------------------------------------------------------------
SPECIAL THANKS FOR firerock laser Dragon_knight240, CasualAce6450, Patrick Ferro, Naruto Uzumaki, Black Dracon, Cain, emahue64, Gavin Jaye, Star Dragon Bahamut, LPumill3, Jalen Waller, Jack Vodir, finnikin finnikin, Guilherme Silva, Jackson Gillenwater, Nigg_216, It'sCaden, Danny Fowkes, Sleepy reader, DaxCodex, jrman2, Mr. Danteror, 4REEEsearch, KristofferXxXxX and Stephen Scott THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT.
IF YOU WANT RECOGNITION OR UNLOCK UNTIL 10 MORE CHAPTERS, YOU CAN HAVE IT ON MY PATREON!!