"I am Sitch, the leader assigned by the Association to the committee for preventive measures against the great prophecy 'the earth is in danger.' And I gotta be honest, I never thought I would be able to gather all of you here in this place."
Sitch's voice echoed through the massive underground hall, bouncing off the reinforced walls. He stood tall on the pedestal, his glasses that he unusually used were reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights, concealing the nerves in his eyes. Before him sat row after row of the worst lowlifes, mercenaries, and underworld kingpins the world had to offer. Some wore expensive suits that screamed corruption and blood money. Others looked ragged, their bodies covered in tattoos, scars, and that dangerous aura of men who had killed more times than they cared to count.
The irony was thick—half the faces in that crowd had, at one time or another, been dragged kicking and screaming to prison by the Association's own heroes. Now, they were "guests."
Beside Sitch, acting as deterrents, stood two heroes. On one side was Child Emperor, munching quietly on a lollipop, his oversized backpack humming faintly with hidden machinery. On the other side was the Association's new trump card, the man the world had begun whispering about as the strongest hero alive: One Punch Man.
Saitama stood there, arms crossed, face as blank as ever. He looked bored, detached even, but his presence alone kept the entire hall in uneasy silence. Every criminal in attendance knew about him. The man who ended the sea invasion almost single-handedly. The man who destroyed a city-size meteorite with his bare hands. The man who, if provoked, could probably reduce the entire meeting—and everyone in it—to dust before they could blink.
Man, they really did it, Saitama thought, his eyes lazily scanning the crowd. Reuniting so many criminals in one place sure isn't a good idea. No wonder they called us. But still… this idea is pretty dumb. It was dumb in the manga, it was dumb in the anime, and it's even more dumb in real life. His expression never shifted, but inside he was sighing. Guess some tropes really don't change, huh?
Meanwhile, on the other side of Sitch, Child Emperor had his own stream of thoughts.
I can't believe they called me here just to play bodyguard for Sitch. I mean, seriously. They already have One Punch Man. No criminal with half a brain would try anything with him in the room. He swirled the lollipop between his teeth, the stick tapping against his cheek. This is overkill. Still… at least I managed to negotiate financing. Fifty percent of my next five projects fully covered—that's a huge win. With that kind of support, I can finish the multi-core reactor prototype… and maybe the autonomous nanite swarm too. Not bad for a day of babysitting.
He stole a quick glance at Saitama, his young face softening despite himself. And then there's him… One Punch Man. We haven't spoken since the alien invasion. And even then, it was just a couple of rushed words between fights. But still, he's… he's amazing. He doesn't even seem to realize how inspiring he is. Man, I hope I get the chance to talk to him properly after this dumb meeting ends. Maybe I can even ask him… how he became what he is.
Back in the audience, a low murmur spread through the crowd of criminals. Some of them whispered to each other, eyes darting nervously to the stage. A tattooed gangster cracked his knuckles loudly, trying to mask his unease. A foreign arms dealer sat stiff, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool air. Even the more confident ones—the drug lords and gang bosses—kept their mouths shut.
Everyone could feel it. It wasn't Sitch's speech that kept them in line. It was the bald man standing silently at the pedestal, looking like he didn't care but radiating an aura that screamed: don't test me.
Sitch adjusted his glasses, clearing his throat, trying to project authority despite knowing full well who really held it in the room. "I've called you all here because the future of Earth may very well depend on cooperation between the Association… and forces beyond the law. The prophecy is vague, but the threat is real. If we don't prepare now, if we don't work together, then—"
"Then we all die, yeah, we get it." A scarred man from the front row spat out, though his voice wavered at the end when his eyes flicked toward Saitama.
Saitama's blank stare didn't shift, but the man quickly looked down at his shoes.
Child Emperor sucked his lollipop thoughtfully, eyes narrowing. Yeah… this whole thing might collapse before it even starts. But if Saitama's here, then… maybe it won't.
"There are many wanted men with high rewards among you," continued Sitch, adjusting his glasses as his eyes swept across the restless crowd. "Rest assured that this is not a trap; we can speak freely. And please, don't worry about the heroes who came with me. They're my bodyguards. They won't take action as long as you continue to behave in a civilized manner."
A scoff erupted from the middle rows.
"Heroes? That kid and that bald guy are heroes?" sneered a thick-necked thug, his arms tattooed up to his jawline. "You brought us here just to show off children and weaklings? This is insulting."
Another man, scar carved across his cheek, leaned forward with a grin that revealed gold teeth. "I'm gonna slit their throats and then I'm gonna—"
"Wait a minute!" A third voice cut through the laughter, sharper, filled with nervousness. "Don't you idiots know who they are?! That's One Punch Man and Child Emperor. They're S-Class heroes."
The room hushed for a moment. The gold-toothed man frowned. "Wait… One Punch Man as in the One Punch Man? The guy who supposedly takes down everything with a single hit? I thought he was just some Association scarecrow. A myth, like the boogeyman they made up to keep criminals in line."
"He's not, you idiot!" A wiry gangster in the back slammed his palm against his chair. "Don't you see him standing right there? That blank face? That's him. Of course he's real."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
"He's right. I'm from Z-City. I saw it with my own eyes. The meteor, remember? The Association couldn't stop it and the entire city was about to be leveled. But then he appeared. It was like watching a bomb go off, only it wasn't a bomb—it was his fist. He destroyed it, the whole thing with only his bare hands."
"No way…"
"You're lying. No man can do that."
"Then explain why the meteor was destroyed to bits and I'm still here to talk about it."
The scar-faced man's grin faltered. He leaned back, finally realizing the silence surrounding the bald hero. Saitama hadn't moved, hadn't even blinked through the entire exchange. He just stood there, arms folded, eyes half-lidded, as if bored.
Saitama, meanwhile, was having his own thoughts. Great, now they're all talking about me. I don't care what they say, I'm here with only a purpose in mind, finding Garou but man, there is too much people in here, it's impossible to discern even one face from the rest.
Child Emperor, lollipop stick tapping gently against his lips, observed the exchange with a calculating stare. So even the underworld knows his legend no. Interesting. Their disbelief tells me the Association hasn't made his feats public record… meaning Saitama's reputation is spreading more from word of mouth than official reports. That kind of organic fear might be more effective than propaganda. He stole another glance at Saitama, who looked like he was just wondering when this would end. And he doesn't even care.
The tattooed thug who'd first mocked them wiped his palms against his pants, trying to laugh it off. "Heh. My mistake. Guess… guess we better listen, huh?" His voice wavered.
Several other criminals averted their gazes. Some muttered curses under their breath, not daring to raise their voices anymore.
Sitch adjusted his tie, clearing his throat. Relief flickered across his face, though he tried to mask it with professional composure. "I'm glad to see we're all on the same page now," he said carefully, his voice cutting into the tense quiet. "Let us continue."
"So you are here, Saitama—finally, I will get my revenge!!"
The voice cut like a blade through the silence, carrying with it a mocking confidence that made the few hairs on Saitama's body rise. His eyes widened.
Shit, not him, why him?!
From the shadowy mass of criminals, a lithe silhouette separated itself, every step deliberate, theatrical. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the figure advanced, his long scarf trailing behind him like a second blade.
"You remember me, Saitama?" the ninja sneered, his tone cold and strangely melodious. "I am Speed-o'-Sound Sonic—the fastest, deadliest ninja alive. And you and I still have unfinished business."
In the blink of an eye, Sonic vanished from the ground and reappeared at Saitama's side, his sword already drawn. The steel gleamed inches from Saitama's chest.
Both Child Emperor and Sitch stiffened in shock.
How…? thought Sitch, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. He hadn't even seen Sonic move.
Fast, thought Child Emperor, biting down on his lollipop, his young eyes narrowing as he analyzed the impossible speed.
Meanwhile, Saitama's mind raced. Shit, shit, shit! I didn't even know Sonic had escaped prison. If I had known, I would've kept my guard up before accepting this gig. If he goes all out here, it'll be chaos—half these criminals will scatter, and Garou might slip right through the cracks…
There was a pause on his thoughts as he suddenly realized something. Then his thoughts shifted. Or maybe… this is exactly what I need. If Garou's watching, if he's even around here, a fight with Sonic is bound to catch his attention.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" Sitch's panicked voice snapped through the tension, cracking like glass. He pointed a trembling finger at Sonic. "None of you are allowed on this platform! Go down this instant, or I'll—"
"Stop, Sitch."
The calm but commanding tone belonged to Saitama. The room froze, hundreds of eyes swiveling toward him. Slowly, he raised his hand, pushing Sitch's words back down his throat.
"I know him," Saitama said, his gaze steady on Sonic. "This guy is dangerous. He could easily kill you and half the people in this room if he wanted. And he's not here for you anyway."
He shifted his stance slightly, shoulders squaring, voice firm.
"It's me he wants. So I'll give him exactly that."
Sonic's lips curled upward into a diabolic smile, his grip on the sword tightening as anticipation flared in his eyes. The criminals muttered anxiously among themselves, some backing away to avoid the inevitable clash, while others leaned forward, hungry for blood.
Child Emperor clenched his fists, torn between stepping in or staying back. He's serious. I can feel it. And to make the strongest hero even a little nervous, this guy has to be really dangerous.
Sonic's sword reflected the light of the lamps as he pressed the blade closer to Saitama's chest. "Finally," Sonic hissed, his tone dripping with long-awaited satisfaction. "The world may not remember me yet, but when I carve your corpse into the floor, everyone will know the name of Sonic the Swift Death."
Saitama sighed, rolling his shoulders as if loosening up. Inside, however, his thoughts raced. Crap. This guy's even cockier than I remember. If I drag this too long, someone could get hurt—or Garou might slip away. Fine, let's end this quickly.
He took a deliberate step back. "Alright, Sonic. You want a fight? You'll get one. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The words only fueled Sonic's smug grin. In a blur, his form dissolved into shadows—afterimages flickering across the hall like dozens of dancing phantoms. His voice echoed all around them.
"Try and follow this, Saitama! My new technique—Ten Thousand Shadows of Death!"
Gasps erupted from the criminals as Sonic's afterimages multiplied, each illusion slashing forward with deadly precision. The air itself seemed to split apart from the sheer velocity of his swings. Blades whistled in every direction, forming a dome of steel around Saitama.
Child Emperor's jaw clenched. "He's fragmenting his speed into layered projections… no, those are real attacks. Each one's moving just fractions apart—if even one connects—"
But Saitama didn't flinch. He planted his feet, exhaled slowly, and raised one arm.
Relax. Focus. Don't underestimate him, but don't overthink it either.
The moment Sonic's blade lunged from the blind spot behind him, Saitama's fist snapped back.
BOOM!
The shockwave of his punch shattered every afterimage at once, the air pressure alone scattering Sonic's technique like smoke in the wind. The criminals shielded their faces from the gust of displaced wind.
In the center of the hall, only Sonic remained, his sword halted an inch from Saitama's shoulder. His eyes widened, disbelief written across his sharp features.
"Impossible…! You tracked all of them?!"
Saitama tilted his head slightly, expression calm. "You're fast, Sonic. I'll give you that. But speed without control doesn't mean much against real power."
Before Sonic could react, Saitama's free hand shot forward—not a punch, but just a simple open-palm push to the chest.
CRASH!
Sonic flew backward like a ragdoll, smashing through two rows of chairs before skidding across the marble floor. His sword clattered to the side. Groans and curses erupted from the criminals as they scrambled out of his path.
Silence followed. Sonic coughed, pushing himself up, his body trembling from the impact. Yet, his eyes burned with fury.
"You… you haven't seen the last of me, Saitama!" he spat, before vanishing in a streak of speed, escaping through the shadows of the hall.
Saitama lowered his arm, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve. Inside, he thought: Man, he's as stubborn as ever. Guess this won't be the last time he shows up. But at least… for now, that should be enough to grab Garou's attention if he's here.
Sitch exhaled shakily, adjusting his glasses once more. "I—I suppose… that settles that."
Child Emperor, meanwhile, had stars in his eyes. Unbelievable. He deflected a multi-layered speed assault like swatting a fly. He wasn't even winded. Saitama… just what are you?
The criminals sat frozen, no longer daring to whisper. The sound of Sonic's body slamming against the far wall still echoed faintly in the cavernous chamber. Dust drifted down from the cracked stone, and a hush fell so heavy it seemed to suffocate the air.
For them, the message was clear: if anyone still thought "One Punch Man" was a myth, the proof had just been delivered. One casual punch had blown the infamous ninja across the hall like a ragdoll. The myth was flesh and blood. And terrifying.
Before Sitch could call order and resume the agenda, another voice cut through the silence. Smooth, mocking and almost amused.
"So, the rumors are true after all… You really are strong, Saitama. Or should I say… One Punch Man, as everyone's knows you."
Every head turned toward the new speaker.
Sitch's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists on the podium. His expression shifted instantly into one of pure irritation. Another weirdo? Seriously? This is starting to feel less like a negotiation and more like a freak convention. First the crazy ninja, now this.
He forced his voice to remain stern, though a vein throbbed in his temple. "We've already had one interruption. Whoever you are, you'd better make this quick. Otherwise, the heroes at my side will cut you down before you take another step."
But even as he said it, a chill settled in the underground chamber. Footsteps echoed. Slow, deliberate, each one tapping into the stone floor like a drumbeat. The sound carried across the vast meeting hall beneath the Hero Association base, impossible to ignore.
The criminals shifted uncomfortably. Even hardened killers and smugglers who had laughed moments ago were silent now, their eyes darting nervously toward the growing silhouette.
Then, from the mass of bodies, a figure emerged.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. His movements were confident, his presence radiating something that felt less like bravado and more intimidating.
Saitama's eyes widened the moment he recognized him.
So I was correct, he was here after all.
The figure stopped just short of the platform, his sharp gaze locking onto Saitama as though no one else in the room existed.
"My name is Garou," he said, his voice calm but carrying a venomous edge. "I came here because I heard there were going to be strong heroes present."
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