Chapter 102 – It Was You, Bastard!!
Recalling those unbearable days behind bars, Speed-o-Sound Sonic's once-delicate face twisted further, teeth grinding audibly.
Ever since Puri-Puri Prisoner had mistaken him for a girl and lost interest, life in prison had been paradise for Sonic.
Not only could he train alone in the dim cell—perfect for a shadow-crawling Ninja—but he was also excused from labor.
Puri-Puri Prisoner believed that with so many burly men around, letting a frail girl work would be a stain on their manly honor.
Sonic had assumed this idyllic incarceration would last until he mapped the guards' routines and engineered an escape.
He never imagined a single offhand remark would hurl him from heaven straight into Hell.
Even now, those words echo through his Soul.
"Boss, you said he's only got one of the three pieces, so you tagged him as a girl—but that feels off.
He may have lost two thirds, but he still keeps that last third.
By your own rule, boss: the more jade looks like glass, the higher its value; if it's really glass, it's worthless.
So think about it—he's holding on to one third; he's not glass, just jade infinitely close to glass. That's premium value!'
In short, Puri-Puri Prisoner had ruled that after losing two "demon pills," Sonic was now female.
To the lackey, though, a gun still remained: the purest "trap," infinitely near a girl yet not one—perfection.
Sonic couldn't read Puri-Puri Prisoner's mind, but he saw the man's eyes sparkle like stars.
From that day on, Sonic's happiness ended.
Puri-Puri Prisoner visited daily for kisses, hugs, and lifts; each time that raw manliness engulfed him, Sonic's face contorted in agony.
Especially when those erect chest hairs stabbed his cheeks—pain physical and mental.
His lower-body injuries hadn't healed; any sudden move tore the wound, and daily confinement left no chance to run.
Thus the proud, gloomy Ninja was "arranged" daily by the muscle-bound Puri-Puri Prisoner.
The man never crossed the final line, yet the endless affection shattered Sonic's sanity.
Until today—finally today!
With Puri-Puri Prisoner away on some hero business, Sonic burst out, risking reopened wounds to unleash top speed.
After days of rest his lower body had nearly mended, and the flames of vengeance roared.
Kill! Kill! I, Speed-o-Sound Sonic, will never forget the humiliation you dealt me!
Pedestrians felt only a sudden gale, catching no glimpse of the blur that shot past.
Effortlessly vaulting the warning rail, Sonic entered Z-City Ghost Town.
Worth noting: even as an S-Class Hero with a fat paycheck, Saitama still hadn't moved out.
First, he was used to it; second, free utilities were nice.
Guided by memory, Sonic halted before a shabby apartment.
He sensed it—the baldie's aura inside.
He slipped back into his pitch-black Ninja suit, purple scarf at the neck, black hair whipping as he grinned and drew a dozen tiny black spheres.
En route he'd raided his secret base for full gear, eager for revenge.
If he was going to settle scores, he'd start by erasing the man's home.
His grin widened; he hurled the explosive pellets skyward.
Under precise Ninja control the bombs arced to encircle Saitama's entire dwelling.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!
A deafening chain of blasts sent a small mushroom cloud rising amid black smoke.
Sonic had already retreated a hundred meters, hand on his sword hilt, watching the smoke with a smirk.
Come on, Saitama—show me what you've got!
In the next instant a violent pressure burst from the cloud's center, scattering smoke and flame.
"Hey, hey—what gives? Gas leak?"
A voice thick with irritation; Saitama fanned the air, staring dumbfounded at the wreckage.
Seeing his brand-new TV and author-signed manga reduced to ash, his face darkened.
Suddenly he looked up, locking eyes with Sonic atop the distant building.
He sniffed, caught the faint gunpowder on Sonic's right hand, and his expression turned icy.
"It was you, bastard!"