Chapter 11: Heroes in Training (Continued)
Musashi, initially enthusiastic, had progressed through stages of attention, confusion, boredom, and now appeared to be surreptitiously practicing sword forms with her pencils under the conference table. Kenshin maintained an outward appearance of attentiveness, though the slight glazing of her normally sharp green eyes suggested her mind had reached a meditative state to endure the bureaucratic onslaught. Nobunaga didn't even pretend to pay attention, openly reviewing tactical maps of City-Z on her newly acquired tablet.
Saitama had simply fallen asleep, his head tilted back at an angle that would have been uncomfortable for anyone else, a thin line of drool at the corner of his mouth.
"And finally," droned the current presenter, a pinch-faced woman from the Public Relations department, "we come to social media protocols for heroes with Temporal Special Operations classification. Given your unique historical backgrounds, all public statements must be pre-approved by your designated Association liaison to prevent chronological confusion or historical controversies."
Nobunaga's head snapped up at this. "Pre-approved? You presume to censor the Demon King?"
The PR representative blinked nervously. "Not censorship, Ms. Nobunaga. Simply... guidance to help you navigate modern media landscapes."
"I conquered provinces and reshaped a nation's destiny," Nobunaga replied coldly. "I believe I can manage a 'tweet' without supervision."
"Perhaps an example would clarify," the woman suggested, pulling up a slide. "Here we have an example of an appropriate hero social media post versus a problematic one."
The slide displayed two mock posts. The "appropriate" example showed a bland, corporate-friendly message about hero work being a privilege and honor. The "problematic" example featured a hypothetical statement about burning one's enemies and hearing the lamentations of their followers.
Nobunaga studied the slide with narrowed eyes. "The second one is clearly superior. It establishes dominance and discourages future resistance."
"That's... precisely the issue," the PR representative explained weakly. "Modern heroism emphasizes protection over intimidation."
"Inefficient," Nobunaga declared dismissively. "Fear is a force multiplier. One properly terrified villain prevents ten future incidents."
"I think what Ms. Oda means," Genos interjected smoothly, "is that different tactical approaches may be appropriate for different threat scenarios. The Association's guidelines certainly allow for contextual flexibility in field operations."
The PR representative looked dubious but seemed unwilling to directly challenge Genos, whose S-Class status afforded him considerable leeway. "Moving on to media interview protocols..."
Musashi, who had been constructing an elaborate pencil fortress on her portion of the conference table, suddenly perked up. "Oh! Interviews! Will there be talk shows? I've been watching those in the mornings! The ones where everyone claps and they give away prizes? Can I go on those?"
The PR representative's eye twitched slightly. "Special Operations heroes are generally restricted to official Association press conferences until full integration is complete. However, limited media appearances may be approved on a case-by-case basis."
"I shall require final approval on all visual representations," Kenshin stated calmly, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. "Historical inaccuracies regarding my person have persisted for centuries. I do not wish to perpetuate them."
"Your... person?" the PR representative repeated carefully.
"My gender, specifically," Kenshin clarified with dignified precision. "Historical records have been inconsistent on this matter."
"Ah, yes," the woman replied, consulting her notes. "Our historical research team did flag some... discrepancies in the records. We can certainly ensure that all official communications reflect your preferred—"
"Facts, not preferences," Kenshin corrected firmly. "I am as I have always been. It is the records that were flawed."
The subtle correction carried such authority that the PR representative merely nodded and made a note without further comment.
A loud snore from Saitama momentarily drew everyone's attention. The bald hero remained soundly asleep, his head now tilted at an even more improbable angle.
"Is he always like this?" the PR representative asked Genos with a hint of exasperation.
"Sensei optimizes his cognitive processing through strategic rest periods," Genos explained with utter seriousness. "It allows him to filter non-essential information while remaining subconsciously alert to any genuine threats."
"He's napping," Nobunaga translated dryly, though with a hint of amusement. "A skill I'm beginning to appreciate after three hours of this tedium."
"Just ninety minutes remaining in today's orientation," the PR representative announced, attempting to regain control of the session. "Next, we'll cover appropriate behavior at charity events and school visits..."
Musashi groaned and flopped forward, her forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. "Even the most grueling sword training only lasted from sunrise to sunset," she complained to no one in particular. "This torture has no natural endpoint."
"Endurance is also a warrior's virtue," Kenshin reminded her, though the strain of maintaining her own composure was becoming evident in the slight tightness around her eyes.
"In my campaigns," Nobunaga remarked, idly tapping her tablet screen, "I would have had this entire department executed for inefficiency by now."
The PR representative paled slightly but valiantly continued her presentation, now speaking at an accelerated pace in an apparent effort to condense the remaining material.
After what felt like an eternity, the orientation finally concluded. Saitama awoke with perfect timing just as the last presenter was gathering their materials, stretching as though he had planned the exact duration of his nap.
"So we done here?" he asked, stifling a yawn.
"The formal orientation has concluded," Genos confirmed. "However, there are seventeen forms requiring your signature before—"
"Later," Saitama interrupted, rising decisively. "We're going on patrol now. Actual hero work, not more paperwork."
The three legendary warriors perked up immediately at this declaration, their earlier exhaustion seemingly forgotten.
"Finally!" Musashi exclaimed, gathering her swords with enthusiasm. "Real hero activities! I've been practicing my hero catchphrases!" She struck a dramatic pose, swords held aloft. "Evil-doers beware! The Sword Saint cuts through injustice!"
"Please tell me that's not required," Nobunaga said to Saitama, looking faintly horrified at the prospect.
"Completely optional," Saitama assured her. "I just usually say 'OK' and punch them."
"A minimalist approach with merit," Kenshin observed, rising with fluid grace. "Though one's introduction does set the tone for the encounter."
"The only introduction my enemies require is their introduction to oblivion," Nobunaga declared with imperial finality.
"See, that's actually a pretty good catchphrase," Musashi pointed out enthusiastically. "Intimidating, memorable, establishes your brand!"
Nobunaga looked momentarily pleased before catching herself. "It was not intended as a... catchphrase. Merely a statement of fact."
"The best catchphrases always are," Musashi insisted sagely.
As they prepared to depart the Association headquarters, Genos cleared his throat. "Sensei, I have taken the liberty of mapping an optimal patrol route through City-Z based on recent incident reports and projected threat probability matrices."
"We'll just walk around and see what happens," Saitama replied, heading for the exit.
"As you wish," Genos acquiesced, falling into step beside him. "Though I should note that the Association has requested we provide a demonstration of our new allies' capabilities in a controlled environment before engaging actual threats."
"Too late for that," Saitama shrugged. "They already fought me, remember? Doesn't get more controlled than that—nobody got hurt."
"An excellent point," Genos acknowledged. "I shall update the Association's request status to 'requirement fulfilled' in their database."
As they exited the gleaming headquarters into the late afternoon sunlight, the unusual group drew immediate attention from passersby. The three legendary warriors, now clad in their updated hero attire, created a striking visual alongside Saitama's minimalist yellow jumpsuit and Genos's sleek cyborg design.
"People are staring," Kenshin observed quietly.
"Yeah, that happens," Saitama confirmed. "You get used to it. Or ignore it. I go with ignore."
"In my era, such attention would signal imminent challenge or assassination attempt," Nobunaga remarked, eyeing the crowd with lingering suspicion.
"Here it usually just means selfie requests," Saitama explained.
"Selfies?" Musashi repeated, testing the unfamiliar word.
As if on cue, a group of teenagers approached, smartphones already raised. "Excuse me! Are you new heroes? Can we get a picture?"
Musashi's face lit up with delight. "Yes! I am Miyamoto Musashi, the Sword Saint! Newly minted hero of the modern era!" She immediately struck a dramatic pose, swords positioned for maximum visual impact.
The teenagers responded with appropriate enthusiasm, capturing multiple images from different angles. Emboldened by Musashi's receptiveness, they turned hopefully toward the others.
Kenshin offered a polite bow but maintained a dignified distance, neither encouraging nor discouraging the attention. Nobunaga glared so intensely that one particularly sensitive teenager actually stepped back, mumbling an apology for the intrusion.
"Don't mind her," Saitama said. "She's still adjusting to modern stuff."
"Are you all a new hero team?" one bold teenager asked. "What's your group name?"
The question created a momentary pause as the five of them exchanged glances.
"We don't have one," Saitama replied simply. "Don't really need it."
"Every team needs a name!" the teenager insisted. "Like the Blizzard Group or the Tank Topper Army!"
"Those names are dumb," Saitama observed.
"What about 'Temporal Titans'?" suggested another teenager. "Since they look like they're from different time periods?"
"Ooh! I like that!" Musashi exclaimed. "Temporal Titans! Has a nice ring to it!"
"We are not adopting a name suggested by random civilians," Nobunaga declared flatly.
"Particularly one with alliterative gimmickry," Kenshin added with gentle diplomacy.
After extracting themselves from the impromptu fan encounter, they continued their patrol through City-Z's bustling commercial district. Saitama led them with his characteristic unhurried pace, hands in pockets, seemingly aimless but covering ground efficiently.
"Is there a strategic pattern to this patrol route?" Kenshin inquired after several blocks.
"Not really," Saitama admitted. "Just walking. Trouble usually finds us eventually."
"In my campaigns, we would establish forward reconnaissance, secure high ground for observation, and deploy scouts in a radial pattern to maximize coverage," Nobunaga commented.
"We could split up to cover more ground," Musashi suggested eagerly. "I could take the eastern quadrant, Kenshin the north, Nobu-chan the west—"
"No splitting up on your first patrol," Saitama interrupted firmly. "Association rules. Also, common sense."
"A wise precaution," Genos agreed. "Unfamiliarity with modern urban environments could lead to navigational challenges or inappropriate threat responses."
"I once conquered thirty-seven distinct provinces," Nobunaga reminded them with imperial indignation. "I believe I can navigate a simple city grid."
"Last week you got lost trying to find the convenience store three blocks from the apartment," Saitama pointed out.
"The signage was inadequate," Nobunaga muttered, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
As they rounded a corner into a less populated area bordering an industrial zone, a distant crash followed by screams caught their attention. Seconds later, emergency alerts began chiming on their Association-issued communicators.
"Mysterious Being alert: Threat level Demon," Genos read from his display. "Industrial District D-7, one kilometer east of our position. Designation: 'Plasmamorph' – entity composed of high-energy ionized matter with demonstrated ability to absorb electrical infrastructure and convert it to destructive energy projections."
"Finally, some action!" Musashi exclaimed, already bouncing on her toes in anticipation.
"Remember Association protocols regarding civilian evacuation and property damage minimization," Genos instructed as they changed direction toward the disturbance.
"Evacuation first, then combat," Kenshin confirmed with a nod.
"Unless immediate engagement is necessary to prevent casualties," Nobunaga added, her tactical mind already processing combat scenarios.
"And try not to cut any buildings in half," Saitama advised, looking particularly at Musashi. "The paperwork for that is ridiculous."
"I make no promises!" Musashi replied cheerfully, already breaking into a run toward the sounds of destruction.
As they approached the industrial zone, the source of the commotion became immediately apparent. Hovering above a partially collapsed power substation was a writhing mass of purple-white energy, roughly humanoid in shape but constantly shifting and pulsating. Tendrils of plasma extended from its amorphous form, pulling electricity directly from power lines and nearby buildings. Each absorption caused the creature to grow larger and more volatile.
Workers fled from surrounding buildings as glass shattered from the electrical disruptions. Emergency services were already establishing a perimeter, but their vehicles stalled as they approached, electronics disabled by the creature's electromagnetic field.
"That's... actually pretty cool looking," Saitama observed dispassionately.
"Thermal readings indicate core temperature of approximately 27,000 degrees Celsius," Genos reported, his sensors analyzing the entity. "Equivalent to the surface of a blue giant star."
"So... hot," Saitama translated.
"Indeed, Sensei."
The Plasmamorph seemed to notice their arrival, its amorphous form condensing slightly as it oriented toward them. A sound like crackling thunder emanated from the creature before it spoke in a distorted, fluctuating voice.
"MORE... POWER... FEED... ME..."
"Standard monster monologue," Saitama noted with familiar boredom. "Always hungry for something."
"I shall handle the evacuation of remaining civilians," Genos declared, already scanning the surrounding buildings for heat signatures. "Sensei, perhaps this would be an appropriate opportunity for our new allies to demonstrate their capabilities?"
Saitama considered this for a moment, then shrugged. "Sure, why not? You guys up for it?" he asked, turning to the three legends.
Musashi was practically vibrating with excitement. "Yes! First official hero battle! This is going to be amazing!"
"A worthy test of our adaptation to this era's combat parameters," Kenshin agreed with calm readiness, her hand moving to her sword hilt.
"Finally, something to burn," Nobunaga remarked, crimson eyes gleaming as she assessed the plasma entity with tactical precision.
"Just remember the basics," Saitama advised. "Save the people, beat the monster, try not to break too much stuff. I'll step in if things get out of hand."
With that surprisingly comprehensive briefing concluded, Saitama stepped back, crossing his arms to observe how his historical charges would handle their first official modern monster.
Kenshin took command with natural authority. "Musashi, right flank approach, divert its attention from the western office complex. Nobunaga, suppression fire from the electrical substation—your flames may disrupt its energy absorption patterns. I will approach from the center to assess vulnerabilities."
"Understood!" Musashi acknowledged, immediately darting right with blinding speed.
"Acceptable strategy," Nobunaga conceded, already moving into position, dark flames beginning to gather around her hands.
The three legends moved with perfect coordination, their centuries of battlefield experience translating seamlessly to this modern threat. Musashi reached her position first, her twin katanas gleaming as she drew them in a fluid motion.
"Hey, plasma-face!" she called out, executing a dazzling series of sword forms that left light trails in the air. "I am Miyamoto Musashi, the Sword Saint! Prepare to face justice!"
The creature turned toward her, drawn by the movement and challenge. It pulsed once before sending a stream of superheated plasma in her direction. Musashi grinned and dodged with supernatural agility, her blades catching the edge of the energy beam and somehow—impossibly—deflecting it skyward.
"Dimensional cutting works on energy projections!" she called out to her companions. "It's like slicing lightning!"
"Noted," Kenshin acknowledged, her own blade now drawn as she circled the creature from below.
The air around her shimmered with spiritual energy, creating a visible distortion field. As she moved, water droplets began to form in the air around her sword—the moisture in the atmosphere condensing in response to her spiritual pressure, a technique that had once made her infamous on ancient battlefields.
From her position atop the damaged substation, Nobunaga unleashed her own attack. Dark flames, edged with crimson, erupted from her outstretched hands, forming a counter-spiral to the creature's plasma field.
"Burn not with chaotic energy," she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of imperial authority, "but with the structured flame of the Demon King!"
When her dark fire met the creature's plasma tendrils, an unexpected reaction occurred. Rather than being absorbed like the electrical energy, Nobunaga's supernatural flames created interference patterns in the creature's form. The Plasmamorph writhed and pulsated more rapidly, its shape destabilizing.
"Its cohesion is failing!" Kenshin called out, her tactician's eye immediately identifying the weakness. "Coordinated strike at its center mass!"
"On it!" Musashi acknowledged, already maneuvering for a better attack angle.
The three legends converged on the creature from different directions, each bringing their unique abilities to bear. Kenshin's spiritually-enhanced blade, now trailing condensed ice particles, struck first, creating a disruption field that momentarily stabilized a portion of the creature's constantly shifting form. Nobunaga's dark flames formed a containing barrier, preventing the plasma from escaping or dispersing.
Musashi delivered the final blow, her twin katanas moving in perfect harmony as she executed a dimensional slice that somehow cut through the very space the creature occupied.
"Twin Void Crossing Strike!" she announced, because of course she would name her attack.
The Plasmamorph convulsed once, its form collapsing inward before exploding in a spectacular—but surprisingly contained—burst of multi-colored light. The energy dispersed harmlessly upward, guided by the combined effects of the three legends' abilities.
As the light faded, the three warriors regrouped, looking barely exerted despite the intensity of the brief battle.
"Well executed," Kenshin acknowledged with a dignified nod to her companions.
"Acceptable efficiency," Nobunaga agreed, extinguishing the dark flames that still flickered around her hands. "Though I believe my containment strategy was the decisive factor."
"Are you kidding? My dimensional cut was clearly the finishing move!" Musashi protested good-naturedly. "Did you see how it went all 'swoosh' and then 'kaboom'? Classic Sword Saint technique!"
From his observation position, Saitama gave a small nod of approval. "Not bad," he commented, which from him constituted high praise. "Pretty clean too. Minimal collateral damage."
Genos returned from his evacuation duties, his sensors scanning the area to confirm the threat's elimination. "Most impressive," he acknowledged. "Your coordinated attack pattern demonstrated excellent tactical adaptation to an unknown entity type."
"That was so much fun!" Musashi exclaimed, practically bouncing as she sheathed her swords. "When can we do it again? Are there more monsters nearby? Can we go looking for them?"
"Heroism is not a game," Nobunaga reminded her sternly, though there was a telltale gleam of satisfaction in her own crimson eyes.
"But it is a duty that can bring joy when properly executed," Kenshin added with gentle wisdom.
As they surveyed the aftermath of their first official hero battle, emergency services and Hero Association representatives began arriving to secure the scene. A news helicopter circled overhead, capturing footage of the unlikely group standing amid the wreckage of the power station.
"We're gonna be on TV!" Musashi realized with delight. "Our hero debut! Should we pose? Oh! I should have prepared a victory catchphrase!"
"Dignity, Musashi," Kenshin reminded her with a small smile. "A true warrior lets their actions speak."
"Actions, then words, then more actions," Musashi countered cheerfully. "The complete package!"
As Association officials approached for debriefing, Saitama let out a small sigh. "And now comes the boring part. Reports, interviews, blah blah blah."
"Bureaucracy," Nobunaga agreed with distaste. "The true enemy no warrior can simply cut down."
"Can't we just leave?" Saitama suggested, already looking for an exit route. "Job's done, monster's gone."
"Association protocol requires full incident documentation," Genos reminded him. "However, as provisional heroes under your supervision, our allies' actions technically fall under your mission authority. Your standard report filing approach would therefore apply."
"You mean my 'turn in a blank form with just the date on it' approach?" Saitama clarified.
"Precisely, Sensei."
"Excellent," Nobunaga approved. "Minimal compliance with maximal efficiency."
"Is that... allowed?" Musashi asked, looking both intrigued and slightly concerned.
"Who's going to stop us?" Saitama countered pragmatically. "Besides, there's a limited-time meat sale at the supermarket that ends in forty minutes. Priorities."
"You would abandon a battlefield victory celebration for discounted food?" Nobunaga asked incredulously.
"Victory is temporary," Saitama replied with unexpected philosophy. "A good meat sale is a once-in-a-week opportunity."
Kenshin's eyes gleamed with sudden understanding. "The warrior who understands that both grand battles and small economies shape one's path has achieved true wisdom."
"I just like good deals," Saitama clarified.
"As you say, Saitama-dono," Kenshin agreed with a small smile that suggested she saw more than he admitted.
As they made their strategic retreat from the bureaucratic aftermath, navigating back alleys to avoid the gathering media, an unusual feeling settled over the group. For the first time, they had functioned not just as displaced legends or reluctant roommates, but as a genuine team.
It was an unexpected development, this strange fellowship of the bored modern hero and his historical charges. Whether it would last beyond their mysterious summoning remained uncertain. But for now, as they hurried toward discounted meat with the satisfaction of a battle well-fought, it felt surprisingly right.
Even if Musashi wouldn't stop suggesting increasingly ridiculous team names the entire way to the supermarket.
Chapter 12: Domestic Dimensions
"Unacceptable!" Nobunaga declared, slamming her palm on the kitchen counter with enough force to rattle the dishes in the cabinets. "This arrangement cannot continue!"
Two weeks had passed since their first official hero engagement, two weeks of patrols, monster fights, Association briefings, and—most challenging of all—continued cohabitation in Saitama's apartment building. While each warrior had technically been assigned their own unit, they had fallen into a pattern of congregating in Saitama's apartment during daylight hours, treating it as an unofficial headquarters.
The current crisis, which had driven the Demon King to such vocal protest, was the state of the refrigerator.
"It's just food," Saitama replied from his position on the floor, where he sat reading a manga volume with characteristic disinterest. "Put yours on a different shelf or something."
"This transcends mere shelf organization," Nobunaga insisted, gesturing dramatically at the open refrigerator. "Observe: Musashi's experimental 'fusion snacks' have contaminated my carefully prepared meal-prep containers. The structural integrity of my weekly nutrition plan is compromised!"
Musashi poked her head out from behind the refrigerator door, a half-eaten sandwich of questionable composition in her hand. "They're not 'contaminated,'" she protested around a mouthful of food. "They're enhanced! I added traditional flavors to your modern protein preparations!"
"You put sweet red bean paste in my chicken breast container," Nobunaga specified with imperial displeasure.
"Sweet protein! For energy boosts during afternoon patrols!" Musashi explained enthusiastically. "The modern era's division between sweet and savory is so limiting! In my time, we embraced flavor harmony across all dimensions!"
"Perhaps," Kenshin suggested from where she sat at the small kitchen table, carefully writing in a journal, "designated food zones would alleviate these conflicts. Clear boundaries with mutual respect for territorial integrity."
"We tried that," Saitama reminded her. "Musashi kept crossing the DMZ for midnight snack raids."
"A warrior's hunger knows no borders!" Musashi declared unrepentantly.
The door opened to admit Genos, carrying several bags of groceries. The cyborg paused, quickly assessing the domestic tension with his sensors.
"I see the refrigerator territory dispute has escalated again," he observed clinically. "Perhaps my solution will prove timely."
He set down the bags and produced a digital tablet, which he handed to Saitama. "I have secured Association approval for permanent accommodations more suitable to our expanded team requirements."
"Expanded team?" Saitama repeated, glancing at the tablet screen with mild interest. "When did that happen?"
"Approximately sixteen days ago when the provisional hero status was granted," Genos replied precisely. "The housing subsidiary clause of regulation 374-B allows for appropriate accommodation upgrades for official hero teams exceeding three members."
The tablet displayed images of a spacious compound on the outskirts of City-Z—a modern structure with traditional Japanese architectural influences. Multiple living quarters surrounded a central common area. Training facilities occupied one wing, while sophisticated security systems protected the perimeter.
"This is... nice," Saitama admitted, scrolling through the images with uncharacteristic attention. "Probably expensive though."
"Fully funded through the S-Class resource allocation program," Genos assured him. "I submitted the application under my name to bypass the usual bureaucratic delays, with you listed as team leader."
"Sneaky," Saitama commented with approval. "But I like this place. It's convenient for sales."
"The new location offers improved access to four additional shopping districts with statistically superior discount frequencies," Genos confirmed, having clearly factored this into his selection criteria.
Nobunaga had abandoned the refrigerator dispute to examine the tablet over Saitama's shoulder. "The defensive positioning is acceptable," she acknowledged grudgingly. "Elevated terrain, clear sightlines, multiple escape routes."
"Each living quarter features private meditation space and customizable environmental controls," Genos added, clearly having anticipated their various preferences.
"Does it have a dojo?" Musashi asked eagerly, abandoning her sandwich to join the huddle around the tablet.
"A comprehensive training facility with both traditional and modern equipment," Genos confirmed. "Including specialized reinforcement for high-impact activities."
"So we can actually go all-out without breaking everything?" Musashi clarified, eyes wide with excitement.
"Within reasonable parameters," Genos qualified. "Though I would still advise against Nobunaga's 'infernal realm manifestation' indoors."
"One small fire and everyone becomes a critic," Nobunaga muttered darkly.
Kenshin had joined them last, studying the images with quiet assessment. "This would indeed solve many of our current logistical challenges," she observed. "Though I have grown somewhat accustomed to this building's... character."
"You mean its constant water pressure problems and that weird smell in the hallway?" Saitama asked.
"I was referring to its humble simplicity," Kenshin clarified diplomatically. "But yes, those elements would not be missed."
"So we're moving?" Musashi asked, practically vibrating with excitement. "To an actual hero compound? With training rooms and everything? When? Today? Can we go now?"
"The property is available immediately," Genos confirmed. "I have taken the liberty of preparing preliminary packing materials should the consensus be positive."
Four sets of eyes turned to Saitama, who had returned to his manga with apparent disinterest despite the major decision at hand.
"Sensei?" Genos prompted after a moment of silence.
Saitama turned a page leisurely before responding. "Yeah, sure. Moving sounds fine."
This casual acceptance was met with varying reactions. Musashi immediately began a victory dance that threatened the integrity of nearby furniture. Nobunaga nodded once, as though she had personally orchestrated this outcome. Kenshin offered a small smile of approval. Genos simply began unloading the groceries with mechanical efficiency, already mentally adjusting his organizational protocols for the new location.
"I call the east-facing room!" Musashi declared, studying the floor plan with newfound intensity. "Morning sun is essential for proper sword technique visualization!"
"The northwestern corner offers superior defensive positioning," Nobunaga countered, analyzing the layout with a general's eye. "Control of that quadrant is non-negotiable."
"I shall be content with whichever space remains," Kenshin stated serenely, though her eyes lingered thoughtfully on a secluded room overlooking what appeared to be a small garden.
As his historical charges debated room assignments with increasing strategic complexity, Saitama continued reading his manga, seemingly detached from the momentous decision he had just casually approved. Yet those who knew him well might have noticed the subtle relaxing of his perpetually bored expression—a nearly imperceptible shift that suggested perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't entirely displeased by this development.
"We should celebrate!" Musashi suddenly exclaimed. "A proper house-warming festival! In my time, we would host grand feasts with sake and performances to bless new dwellings!"
"An appropriate ritual to mark territorial establishment," Nobunaga agreed with surprising enthusiasm. "Though modern security protocols must be incorporated into any gathering."
"A small ceremony would be fitting," Kenshin concurred. "Honoring both the new space and the unusual fellowship that has brought us together."
Saitama finally looked up from his manga, his expression shifting to mild concern. "You guys aren't planning something complicated, right? Because I was just thinking we'd get take-out and watch a movie or something."
"Take-out AND a ceremony!" Musashi declared, unwilling to surrender her festival vision. "We can adapt traditions for modern convenience! The best of both worlds!"
"If alcohol is involved, I withdraw my objections," Nobunaga stated pragmatically.
"A compromise that honors both simplicity and significance," Kenshin mediated with diplomatic skill. "Perhaps each of us could contribute one element meaningful to our respective eras."
"I'm not doing anything weird or complicated," Saitama clarified firmly. "My contribution is picking the movie."
"Acceptable," Nobunaga declared, as though granting a great concession. "The Demon King acknowledges your cultural domain."
"Thanks," Saitama replied dryly. "Very generous of you."
The preparations for the move proceeded with surprising efficiency over the next few days, largely due to Genos's meticulous planning and the fact that Saitama owned almost nothing of consequence. The three legendary warriors had accumulated a surprising amount of modern possessions during their short time in the current era, however—everything from weapons maintenance equipment to consumer electronics to Musashi's growing collection of snack foods from every corner of the world.
By the day of the actual relocation, their combined belongings had filled a moderate-sized moving truck, which Genos insisted on driving himself rather than trusting professional movers with what he termed "strategic hero assets."
When they finally arrived at the new compound, the three legends fell momentarily silent as they took in their new home. The property was impressive without being ostentatious—secure without resembling a fortress, spacious without feeling institutional. Traditional elements like the central garden and wooden walkways blended seamlessly with modern security systems and training facilities.
"This far exceeds standard warrior accommodations from my era," Kenshin observed, taking in the harmonious design with appreciative eyes.
"It'll do," Nobunaga declared, though her careful inspection of every defensive feature and sightline betrayed her approval.
"It's AMAZING!" Musashi exclaimed, already running from room to room with childlike enthusiasm. "Look at the size of this training hall! And the kitchen! So many appliances! What does this one do? Oh! And a hot tub! Do you know they have these tubs with jets that massage you while you bathe? The future is incredible!"
Saitama wandered through the common areas with his hands in his pockets, his expression inscrutably neutral as usual. Yet he paused longest in the main living space, with its comfortable seating arranged around a large television, open sight lines to the kitchen, and large windows overlooking the central garden.
"Not bad," he finally declared—high praise by his taciturn standards. "TV's bigger than my old one."
"The entertainment system features full integration with seventeen streaming services and advanced gaming capabilities," Genos explained, clearly pleased by his teacher's approval. "I took the liberty of transferring your account data and watchlists."
"Cool," Saitama nodded. "What about the local markets?"
"There is a premium grocery store within walking distance, as well as three discount retailers within a five-kilometer radius," Genos confirmed. "I have compiled their weekly sale schedules and mapped optimal shopping routes based on seasonal offerings."
"Nice," Saitama acknowledged, genuinely impressed by this particular feature.
As evening approached and the bulk of their belongings found new homes in their respective quarters, Musashi's promised "celebration" began to take shape. True to form, the Sword Saint had somehow procured an eclectic mix of traditional ceremonial items alongside modern party supplies. Paper lanterns hung beside LED string lights. Ancient blessing scrolls shared table space with convenience store snacks. A traditional tea set sat next to stacks of pizza boxes
One Punch, Three Legends: The Expanded Edition (Part 6)
Chapter 12: Domestic Dimensions (Continued)
A traditional tea set sat next to stacks of pizza boxes from three different restaurants, which Musashi had insisted on ordering to "sample the full spectrum of modern flavor innovations."
"Is this really necessary?" Saitama asked, eyeing the increasingly elaborate setup with mild concern. "We could've just had dinner and called it a day."
"Ritual matters," Kenshin replied, carefully arranging chrysanthemums in a simple vase. "Even for those who claim indifference to such things."
"I'm not indifferent," Saitama defended himself. "I just think it's a lot of work for basically moving some furniture."
"It's not about the furniture," Nobunaga observed, surprisingly insightful as she uncorked a bottle of sake with practiced precision. "It's about territory. Establishing a base of operations. In my conquests, properly claiming new territory was essential to maintaining morale and solidifying authority."
"We're not conquering anything," Saitama reminded her. "It's just a house."
"It is a home," Kenshin corrected gently. "Or it will become one, through shared experience and intention. That is what these rituals acknowledge."
Saitama seemed about to argue further but was interrupted by Musashi bounding into the room, arms laden with even more decorations.
"Look what I found in the storage area!" she exclaimed, displaying a collection of paper ornaments. "Traditional shimenawa straw ropes and shide paper streamers! Perfect for marking sacred spaces! Someone must have left them here. Talk about lucky!"
"The previous occupant was a cultural anthropologist specializing in Shinto practices," Genos explained, entering with a tray of precisely arranged appetizers. "I selected this property partly because of its existing ritual spaces, which I calculated would appeal to our historical allies."
"That was... thoughtful," Saitama acknowledged, genuinely surprised by his disciple's consideration.
"Your well-being is my primary concern, Sensei," Genos replied. "Statistical analysis indicates that your psychological markers have shown positive elevation since the arrival of our interdimensional companions. Facilitating their cultural integration therefore benefits your overall condition."
"Are you saying I was depressed before?" Saitama asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Not depressed," Genos clarified carefully. "Existentially understimulated."
"Bored," Nobunaga translated, raising her sake cup with a knowing smirk. "Terminally, cosmically bored."
"Whatever," Saitama shrugged, though without his usual dismissiveness. "This place is pretty nice, I guess. Thanks for setting it up, Genos."
The cyborg straightened with visible pride at the rare compliment.
As evening deepened into night, the celebration evolved with the easy rhythm of people becoming comfortable in a new space. They ate pizza while Kenshin performed a modified tea ceremony that somehow preserved the essence of the ancient ritual despite using mugs instead of traditional cups. Nobunaga surprised everyone by revealing unexpected skill with modern smart home systems, programming lighting sequences and security protocols with imperious efficiency.
"Technology merely extends the principles of command and control," she explained when Saitama expressed surprise at her digital aptitude. "Whether dispatching messengers on horseback or configuring automated alert systems, the fundamental logic remains consistent."
"I guess warlords had to be adaptable," Saitama acknowledged.
"Those who failed to adapt perished," Nobunaga confirmed with characteristic bluntness. "Evolution is not a modern concept."
Meanwhile, Musashi had convinced Genos to help her arrange the furniture in the expansive living room to create what she called a "storytelling circle." She now sat cross-legged at its center, gesturing dramatically as she recounted one of her legendary duels.
"...and there I was, facing the greatest spear-master in the western provinces," she narrated, eyes gleaming with remembered triumph. "His weapon had three additional feet of reach, and the rain had made the ground treacherous! Most swordsmen would have retreated to more favorable conditions, but I—"
"Charged directly at him like a lunatic," Nobunaga interrupted dryly, refilling her sake cup.
"Like a GENIUS," Musashi corrected emphatically. "Because the unexpected approach nullified his reach advantage! He had trained to keep opponents at spear-length, so moving inside his guard disrupted his entire fighting style!"
"A sound tactical principle," Kenshin acknowledged. "Denying the enemy their preferred engagement parameters."
"Exactly!" Musashi beamed. "So I slid through the mud right under his spear thrust, came up inside his guard, and—" she made an elaborate slicing gesture that nearly knocked over a nearby lamp, "—one perfect cut! Battle over!"
"Did that really happen?" Saitama asked, looking more engaged than usual.
"Well..." Musashi hesitated, then grinned sheepishly. "The mud part might be exaggerated. And it took two cuts, not one. But the principle stands! Sometimes the direct approach confounds opponents more than elaborate strategy!"
"Something our bald friend knows intuitively," Nobunaga observed, nodding toward Saitama. "Your combat style applies similar principles—negating enemy advantages through straightforward force."
"I just punch things," Saitama shrugged.
"With perfect economy of motion and psychological impact," Kenshin added thoughtfully. "There is sophisticated philosophy in simplicity."
"You guys are overthinking it," Saitama insisted, though he looked slightly pleased by the analysis. "Sometimes a punch is just a punch."
"And sometimes it's an existential statement," Musashi countered cheerfully. "My sword master used to say that every cut reveals the truth of the cutter!"
"What truth does Saitama's punch reveal, then?" Nobunaga challenged, crimson eyes gleaming with intellectual mischief.
The question hung in the air for a moment, creating an unexpected pocket of philosophical depth in the otherwise casual gathering.
"That strength without purpose becomes its own burden," Kenshin suggested quietly. "The punch that ends all challenges with a single strike reflects both power and isolation."
"Whoa, getting deep here," Saitama commented, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Can we go back to Musashi's exaggerated duel stories?"
"My stories are only slightly embellished for dramatic effect!" Musashi protested. "Unlike Nobunaga, who probably claims she conquered Japan single-handedly!"
"I had armies," Nobunaga corrected imperiously. "I simply inspired such loyalty that they fought as extensions of my will."
"Through fear or devotion?" Kenshin inquired, her tone genuinely curious rather than judgmental.
"Both," Nobunaga replied without hesitation. "Fear establishes boundaries; devotion provides motivation. The ideal leader cultivates a precise measure of each."
"Sounds exhausting," Saitama observed, reaching for another slice of pizza. "Being responsible for so many people."
"Says the hero who casually saves entire cities," Nobunaga countered with surprising insight.
"That's different," Saitama argued. "I'm not leading anyone. I just show up, punch the problem, and leave."
"Yet here we are," Kenshin noted softly, gesturing to their gathering. "Three warriors from across time, drawn to your orbit. Perhaps leadership takes forms you have yet to recognize."
Before Saitama could formulate a response to this uncomfortable observation, Musashi sprang to her feet with sudden excitement.
"I almost forgot the most important part of the house-warming ritual!" she exclaimed, rushing from the room and returning moments later with four small wooden plaques and calligraphy supplies. "Home blessing tablets! Each of us should write a wish or protection for our new dwelling!"
"Is this actually traditional, or did you make it up?" Saitama asked suspiciously.
"It's... traditional-adjacent," Musashi admitted. "But the principle is sound! Sacred words help establish harmonious energy patterns!"
"I see no harm in the practice," Kenshin conceded, accepting a brush with graceful fingers. "Intention has power, regardless of the specific form it takes."
"Fine," Saitama sighed, taking the offered materials with visible reluctance. "But I'm not good at this fancy writing stuff."
"Content matters more than calligraphic skill," Kenshin assured him. "Though proper brush technique does channel one's energies more effectively."
They each retreated to different corners of the room to compose their blessings in private. Kenshin approached the task with meditative focus, her brush moving in fluid, practiced strokes. Nobunaga wrote with imperial precision, each character bold and commanding. Musashi attacked her tablet with enthusiastic energy, occasionally muttering and starting over when her excitement led to splattered ink.
Saitama stared at his blank tablet for a long moment, clearly struggling with the assignment. Finally, with a small shrug, he wrote something brief and straightforward before setting his brush aside.
When they reconvened to share their creations, the contrasts were illuminating.
Kenshin displayed her tablet first: "May this dwelling know both strength and peace, sheltering warriors while nurturing harmony." The calligraphy was exquisite, each character balanced and flowing with classical elegance.
Nobunaga went next, revealing bold strokes that commanded attention: "Let enemies tremble at our threshold while allies find sanctuary within these walls." The characters seemed almost to smolder on the wood, conveying authority and protection.
Musashi bounced forward eagerly, presenting a tablet covered in somewhat exuberant calligraphy: "Adventures begin here! May our home overflow with friendship, good food, epic battles, and GLORY!" She had added small decorative flourishes around the edges that resembled tiny swords.
Finally, all eyes turned to Saitama. With clear reluctance, he turned his tablet to reveal a simple message in basic, unadorned characters: "Hope everyone's comfortable here."
A moment of silence followed this anticlimactic offering.
"That's... concise," Nobunaga observed diplomatically.
"It has a certain minimalist integrity," Kenshin added, ever the peacemaker.
"I like it!" Musashi declared with genuine enthusiasm. "Simple but heartfelt! Very on-brand for you, Saitama!"
"Whatever," Saitama muttered, looking slightly embarrassed. "Where are we supposed to put these things anyway?"
"Traditionally, at the four corners of the dwelling," Kenshin explained. "To create a protective boundary that encompasses all within."
They moved outside under the night sky, each taking a different direction to place their blessings. Saitama, who had been assigned the eastern corner, found himself momentarily alone as he secured his tablet to the wooden post Musashi had designated.
"This is pretty silly," he murmured to himself, though without real conviction. As he finished mounting the tablet, he added in an even quieter voice, "But I really do hope they're comfortable here."
When he returned to the central courtyard, he found the others waiting, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of paper lanterns Musashi had hung earlier.
"The ritual is complete," Kenshin announced with formal dignity. "Our dwelling is properly consecrated."
"Now can we watch a movie?" Saitama asked, eager to return to more familiar territory.
"An excellent transition to more modern home-establishment traditions," Musashi agreed enthusiastically. "What's the film selection?"
"I've compiled a curated list of options based on your individual preference patterns," Genos announced, displaying a categorized menu on the living room's large screen.
"When did you analyze our 'preference patterns'?" Nobunaga inquired suspiciously.
"I maintain ongoing behavioral observation protocols for all household members," Genos explained with mechanical precision. "It allows me to optimize environmental conditions and resource allocation."
"He spies on us," Nobunaga translated flatly.
"I prefer 'passive data collection for enhanced cohabitation efficiency,'" Genos corrected without a hint of apology.
"Choose something with swords!" Musashi suggested, already claiming the center of the largest couch. "Or spaceships! Or ideally, swords AND spaceships!"
"Historical accuracy would be preferred," Kenshin requested, selecting a cushion with perfect posture.
"Something with strategic elements and minimal romantic subplots," Nobunaga added, claiming an entire loveseat for herself with imperial entitlement.
Saitama, who had settled into his favorite spot on the floor rather than any of the comfortable seating options, simply shrugged. "Whatever's fine. Just nothing too boring."
As Genos navigated the selection menu, searching for a film that could possibly satisfy these disparate requirements, a comfortable silence settled over the room. It was the kind of silence that exists only between people who have begun to form genuine connections—neither awkward nor empty, but filled with unspoken understanding.
For beings from vastly different times and circumstances, they had fallen into a surprising rhythm of coexistence. Not without friction, certainly, but with an underlying current of mutual respect that continued to deepen despite (or perhaps because of) their profound differences.
As the movie began and Musashi immediately peppered everyone with excited commentary, Saitama leaned back against the couch, his perpetually bored expression softening just slightly around the edges. In this moment of quiet domesticity, surrounded by legendary warriors arguing about fictional space battles, the strongest hero in the world looked almost... content.
It was, by anyone's measure, a successful house-warming.
Chapter 13: Crisis Management
The peace of their new domestic arrangement lasted precisely eight days before the first major crisis struck.
The morning had begun normally enough. Saitama was enjoying his carefully budgeted breakfast while half-listening to Musashi's animated description of a new sword technique she had developed to counter modern projectile weapons. Kenshin sat in her usual spot by the eastern window, meditating in the morning light. Nobunaga had claimed the dining table as her tactical headquarters, digital maps and security reports spread across its surface as she conducted what she termed her "morning territorial assessment."
Genos, ever efficient, was simultaneously preparing extra breakfast portions, updating their hero activity logs, and monitoring emergency frequencies on the Association network.
It was this last activity that shattered the peaceful routine.
"Alert," the cyborg announced suddenly, his casual movements freezing as his cybernetic eyes shifted to tactical mode. "Multiple disaster warnings activating simultaneously across four cities."
"Monster attack?" Saitama asked without much concern, continuing to eat his cereal.
"Unknown," Genos replied, his internal processors visibly accelerating as information streamed across his optical display. "Seismic anomalies, atmospheric disturbances, and gravitational fluctuations reported at seventeen distinct locations. Pattern suggests coordinated event rather than natural phenomenon."
"Sounds complicated," Saitama observed, though he did pause his breakfast. "Probably should check it out."
"Association emergency protocols activating," Genos continued, receiving real-time updates through his direct link to the hero network. "All S-Class heroes being mobilized. Situation designated 'Dragon-plus' threat level."
This classification finally drew Saitama's full attention. "That's pretty serious, right?"
"Indeed, Sensei. The 'plus' designation indicates potential for global-scale devastation if unchecked."
Nobunaga was already on her feet, military instincts fully engaged. "Strategic deployment coordinates?"
"Central command establishing at Hero Association Headquarters," Genos reported. "Regional response teams being dispatched to anomaly epicenters."
"Then we move immediately," Nobunaga declared, her casual home attire shimmering as it transformed into her battle uniform through some mysterious process that even Genos hadn't been able to properly analyze. "Musashi, perimeter reconnaissance. Kenshin, energy assessment. Baldy—"
"Still the leader here," Saitama reminded her mildly, setting down his cereal bowl. "And it's Saitama."
"Of course," Nobunaga conceded with imperial insincerity. "Your tactical directives, then?"
Saitama considered for approximately three seconds. "Let's go see what's happening, I guess."
"A strategy of elegant simplicity," Kenshin commented, rising from her meditation with fluid grace. "Direct assessment before commitment of forces."
"Or we could call it 'winging it,'" Musashi suggested cheerfully, already strapping on her multiple sword harnesses. "Which is way more fun anyway!"
They departed as a unit, Genos leading the way with real-time navigation updates streaming through his systems. The trip to Association Headquarters, normally a leisurely thirty-minute journey, took precisely seven minutes and twenty-two seconds thanks to Musashi's discovery that she could create dimensional shortcuts through less-populated areas.
"We really should explore the practical applications of your spatial manipulation abilities in non-combat scenarios," Genos commented as they emerged from what appeared to be a tear in reality directly in front of Headquarters. "The logistics implications alone are substantial."
"I tried delivering pizzas that way once," Musashi admitted. "But it makes the cheese do weird things. Non-Euclidean mozzarella is not as tasty as regular mozzarella, trust me."
The Association complex was in full emergency protocol mode. Security barriers had risen from concealed positions, defensive weapons systems tracked the skies, and heroes of all ranks rushed through designated entry points.
"S-Class and Special Operations access through primary command entrance," a security officer directed them, visibly relieved to see high-ranked heroes arriving. "Director Sitch is establishing tactical response teams now."
The command center they entered bore little resemblance to the formal meeting room from their previous visit. Wall-sized monitors displayed global maps with pulsing red indicators marking anomaly sites. Association analysts rushed between workstations, coordinating information flows and resource deployments. In the center of the chaos stood Director Sitch, looking significantly more composed than his surroundings would suggest was reasonable.
"Ah, Demon Cyborg, Caped Baldy, and our historical specialists," he acknowledged their arrival with a brisk nod. "Good timing. We're establishing response teams now."
"What exactly are we responding to?" Saitama asked, getting directly to the point as usual.
Sitch gestured to the main display, where footage from multiple locations played simultaneously. Each showed similar phenomena: swirling vortices of energy appearing in midair, distorting the space around them. Buildings, vehicles, and in some cases people were being pulled toward these anomalies before disappearing entirely.
"Dimensional rifts," Sitch explained grimly. "Seventeen confirmed locations across four continents, with new ones forming every thirty minutes. Analysis suggests they're artificial in nature—someone or something is deliberately weakening the barriers between dimensions."
"Fascinating," Kenshin murmured, her sharp green eyes studying the footage with intense focus. "The energy signature resembles the summoning circle that brought us here, but inverted and significantly amplified."
"You recognize this phenomenon?" Sitch asked, suddenly very interested.
"Not precisely," Kenshin clarified. "But the fundamental principles appear similar. Where our summoning pulled specific entities across dimensional boundaries, these rifts seem designed to collapse the boundaries themselves."
"To what end?" Nobunaga demanded, already analyzing the strategic implications. "Territory expansion? Resource acquisition? Prelude to invasion?"
"Unknown," Sitch admitted. "But we've detected energy signatures emerging from the larger rifts. Whatever's coming through isn't friendly."
One monitor shifted to live footage from City-M, where a massive rift had formed above the financial district. As they watched, something began to emerge—a writhing mass of tentacles surrounding what appeared to be an enormous eye. Buildings crumbled as the creature's appendages lashed out indiscriminately.
"That looks problematic," Saitama observed with characteristic understatement.
"Similar entities appearing at six other locations," Genos reported, processing the incoming data feeds. "Energy readings suggest they are merely scouts or advance forces for something larger attempting to breach the dimensional barriers."
"So what's the plan?" Musashi asked eagerly, practically bouncing with combat anticipation. "Do we split up? Take one rift each? Ooh, can I have the one with the tentacle eye thing? I've always wanted to fight a transdimensional horror!"
Director Sitch cleared his throat. "We're coordinating a strategic response based on hero specializations and rift characteristics. Metal Knight is developing technology to potentially reseal the smaller rifts, but we need to neutralize the emerging threats and stabilize the larger breaches manually."
"You mean punch them until they stop moving," Saitama translated.
"Essentially, yes," Sitch confirmed with the weary resignation of someone who had learned to work with Saitama's direct approach. "Though with more targeted precision than usual, if possible. These rifts are unstable—excessive force could potentially accelerate the dimensional collapse."
"So... punch them gently?" Saitama clarified, looking mildly confused by this limitation.
"Perhaps this is where our specialized capabilities become most relevant," Kenshin suggested diplomatically. "My spiritual energy manipulation may help stabilize the dimensional boundaries while Nobunaga's infernal containment could restrict the emerging entities."
"And I can cut through dimensional space!" Musashi added enthusiastically. "Which might be either really helpful or catastrophically dangerous. Only one way to find out!"
Sitch looked momentarily alarmed by this casual approach to potentially world-ending phenomena but recovered quickly. "We're establishing five primary response teams, each targeting a major rift cluster. You four will join Tornado and Atomic Samurai at the City-S cluster—it's showing the most advanced progression."
"Understood," Genos acknowledged formally. "Transportation?"
"Association aircraft standing by on the roof," Sitch replied. "Estimated arrival at target zone in seventeen minutes."
"Or we could use Musashi's dimensional shortcut thing and be there in thirty seconds," Saitama suggested practically.
All eyes turned to the pink-haired swordswoman, who beamed with pride at being suddenly crucial to the mission.
"I can totally do that!" she confirmed. "Though fair warning: first-time travelers sometimes experience mild side effects like dimensional vertigo, temporary chromatic aberration in vision, and existential uncertainty. Nothing serious!"
"Define 'existential uncertainty,'" Nobunaga demanded suspiciously.
"Oh, you know," Musashi waved dismissively, "brief questioning of whether you exist across all possible reality planes or just the one you think you do. Passes in a minute or two!"
"Acceptable risk given the time advantage," Genos calculated. "Seventeen minutes could be critical in preventing further breaches."
"Right," Saitama nodded. "Let's go with the sword shortcut thing."
Director Sitch looked like he wanted to object but merely sighed instead. "Very well. But maintain communication links at all times. This is a coordinated response, not individual hero showcasing."
"We know how to function as a unit," Nobunaga assured him with imperial confidence. "Despite appearances to the contrary," she added with a pointed glance at Musashi, who was now practicing her "dimensional slash" pose for maximum dramatic effect.
"Good luck," Sitch offered simply. "The fate of multiple worlds may depend on your success."
"No pressure," Saitama muttered.
Ten minutes later, they emerged from Musashi's dimensional shortcut into what could only be described as apocalyptic chaos. The skies above City-S swirled with unnatural storms, lightning in impossible colors arcing between three massive rifts that hung like wounds in reality itself. Buildings had been uprooted and floated in defiance of gravity, turning slowly as they were drawn toward the largest rift. Citizens fled in terror as smaller rifts spontaneously formed and collapsed at street level, sometimes taking unfortunate victims with them.
And in the center of it all, emerging from the largest rift, was a creature that defied conventional description. Part architectural structure, part biological mass, it extended crystalline appendages that shifted between states of matter as they penetrated further into Earth's dimension.
"What the actual hell is that?" Musashi exclaimed, for once sounding more alarmed than excited.
"Extradimensional entity of unknown classification," Genos reported, his sensors struggling to provide coherent data. "Physical properties inconsistent with Earth dimensional constants. Appears to be reconfiguring local reality to match its native parameters."
"It's changing our world to match its own," Kenshin translated, her spiritual senses clearly detecting something beyond normal perception. "Corrupting the fundamental laws that govern this plane."
"Strategic assessment: immediate containment required," Nobunaga declared, crimson flames already gathering around her form. "Prevent further emergence while neutralizing existing intrusion."
"I'll handle the big weird crystal thing," Saitama said simply. "You guys deal with the smaller problems and help evacuate people."
"A sound division of responsibilities," Kenshin agreed. "Though approach with caution, Saitama-dono. This entity exists partially outside our dimensional laws—your strength may interact with it unpredictably."
"I'll start with a light punch," Saitama assured her, already moving toward the main entity with casual confidence.
As the team separated to address their assigned tasks, they suddenly became aware of a green glow approaching rapidly from the east—Tornado of Terror, flying at full speed with Atomic Samurai somehow being transported in her psychic grip, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the arrangement.
"About time you extras showed up!" Tatsumaki called out as she descended, unceremoniously dropping Atomic Samurai the final few feet to the ground. "What kind of hero team uses weird dimensional shortcuts instead of proper Association transport?!"
"The efficient kind," Nobunaga replied coolly. "While you were enjoying your scenic flight, we've already established tactical positions and begun response operations."
Tatsumaki's eyes narrowed dangerously, small debris around her beginning to levitate as her temper flared. "Listen, historical cosplay reject—"
"Perhaps we could focus on the imminent dimensional apocalypse before engaging in team dynamics?" Atomic Samurai suggested dryly, adjusting his sword belt after the undignified arrival. "Just a thought."
"Fine," Tatsumaki snapped. "What's the situation?"
"Three major rifts, numerous minor ones, extradimensional entity partially emerged from primary breach, gravitational anomalies affecting infrastructure, civilian evacuation incomplete," Genos reported with machine-gun efficiency. "Saitama-sensei is engaging the primary entity. We are addressing secondary threats and evacuation."
"Baldy's fighting that thing alone?" Tatsumaki demanded, glancing toward where Saitama could be seen approaching the crystalline monstrosity. "Is he insane?"
"Empirical evidence suggests it's the entity that should be concerned," Nobunaga remarked with dry amusement.
"Regardless, we have our own challenges," Kenshin interjected, pointing toward a cluster of smaller rifts that were forming at an intersection where civilians remained trapped. "Those require immediate attention."
"Fine," Tatsumaki conceded. "I'll handle gravitational stabilization and debris control. You historical freaks deal with the small rifts. Sword-boy can help with evacuation."
"Sword-boy?" Atomic Samurai repeated incredulously.
"Would you prefer 'blade-man'?" Tatsumaki shot back. "Move now, complain later!"
Despite the esper's abrasive approach, the expanded team quickly organized into effective action. Tatsumaki used her immense psychic power to counter the gravitational distortions, stabilizing buildings and creating safe evacuation corridors. Atomic Samurai moved with blinding speed through the danger zones, cutting debris and rescuing trapped civilians with precise efficiency.
Kenshin approached the cluster of smaller rifts, her spiritual energy manifesting as a visible aura that seemed to calm the dimensional distortions. Where she moved, reality stabilized, the tears in space slowly knitting closed under her influence.
Nobunaga established a perimeter of dark flames around several blocks, the infernal energy somehow preventing new rifts from forming within her defined territory. "Dimensional boundaries respond to definitive claims of domain," she explained when Genos questioned the technique. "Even cosmic forces respect properly established borders."
Musashi, meanwhile, had discovered something unexpected—her dimensional cutting ability could actually "trim" the edges of unstable rifts, reducing their size and preventing expansion. "It's like deadheading flowers!" she called out excitedly as she sliced through the perimeter of a rift, causing it to shrink significantly. "Cut off the wild growth to promote stability!"
Genos coordinated their efforts while maintaining communications with other hero teams and Association headquarters, his processing systems taxed to their limits managing the complex operation.
But the true spectacle was unfolding at the center of the chaos, where Saitama now stood before the fully emerged crystalline entity. The creature towered over him, a shifting mass of geometric impossibilities that hurt the human mind to observe directly. Appendages that somehow existed in more dimensions than should be possible reached toward the bald hero with ominous intent.
"So," Saitama addressed it casually, as though speaking to an oversized mosquito rather than an extradimensional horror. "You should probably go back where you came from. You're causing a lot of problems here."
The entity's response came not as sound but as a painful distortion of reality around it. Windows shattered for blocks in every direction. The very air seemed to ripple with discordant energy.
"I'll take that as a no," Saitama sighed. "Look, I'm trying to be reasonable here. This dimension's already occupied, and your crystal stuff is wrecking buildings and scaring people."
Another reality-warping pulse emanated from the entity, this one strong enough to create a crater in the street around Saitama—though the hero himself remained unmoved, not even his cape disturbed by the dimensional shockwave.
"Okay," Saitama nodded, as though having completed a good-faith negotiation attempt. "Just remember I tried asking nicely first."
He drew back his fist, carefully gauging his strength as Kenshin had advised. "Restrained Serious Punch."
The impact, when it came, defied conventional physics. Saitama's fist connected with the crystalline entity at a fraction of his full power—yet even this measured strike created a shock wave that momentarily silenced the chaos of the battlefield. The entity shuddered, its impossible geometry suddenly struggling to maintain coherence in Earth's dimension.
But instead of dissipating or being destroyed, something unexpected happened. Where Saitama's fist had connected, a reaction spread through the creature's crystalline structure. Colors that had no business existing in normal space-time flickered through its form. The rift behind it pulsed and expanded suddenly.
"That's... not what usually happens," Saitama observed with mild concern.
"Sensei!" Genos called out, his sensors detecting the dangerous energy surge. "The entity is using your kinetic input to catalyze a dimensional reaction! It's accelerating the breach!"
"So... hitting it makes it stronger?" Saitama translated, looking genuinely perplexed by this novel problem. "That's cheating."
The entity continued its transformation, absorbing the energy from Saitama's punch to fuel what appeared to be a metamorphosis. Its crystalline appendages multiplied and expanded, reaching further into Earth's reality while the rift behind it grew large enough to reveal glimpses of what lay beyond—a realm of impossible architecture and non-Euclidean geometry that strained the sanity of those who glimpsed it.
"Well, this is inconvenient," Saitama muttered, stepping back to reassess the situation—a rarity for him in combat.
From across the battlefield, Kenshin's voice called out: "Saitama-dono! It exists between states! Neither matter nor energy in our conventional understanding!"
"So how do I punch something that isn't exactly... punchable?" Saitama called back, watching as the entity continued its ominous expansion.
"Perhaps the question isn't how to destroy it," Kenshin replied, her voice carrying despite the chaos, "but how to help it exist properly within our dimensional parameters!"
"You mean... fix it instead of breaking it?" Saitama asked, sounding genuinely confused by this novel approach to heroism.
"Precisely! It cannot maintain its native form here without corrupting our reality. But perhaps it could be... persuaded... to adopt a more compatible configuration!"
Saitama stared at the writhing crystalline horror, scratching his head. "So I need to... talk it into being less weird?"
"Or show it a better way to exist here!" Musashi shouted from where she was trimming another rift. "Like how I had to learn not to cut through walls when I first got here!"
"Dimensional psychotherapy was not covered in my hero training," Saitama muttered. But he faced the entity again, studying it with newfound consideration.
If conventional attacks were only making it stronger, and destroying it might further destabilize the dimensional boundaries, perhaps a completely different approach was required. It was, Saitama had to admit, a novel situation even for someone who had faced planet-destroying threats on a regular basis.
"Okay," he said finally, addressing the entity directly. "Let's try something else. You want to be here, in our world, right? But you can't just reshape everything to match your home dimension. That's not how visiting works."
The entity pulsed again, but the reality distortion seemed marginally less violent—almost as though it were... listening?
"I get that it's different here. Probably uncomfortable for you. But ripping holes in space and turning buildings inside-out isn't going to fix that." Saitama continued, feeling slightly ridiculous having a one-sided conversation with a crystalline monstrosity, but pressing on nonetheless. "You need to adapt to our rules, not break them."
To everyone's astonishment, the entity's frantic expansion slowed. The crystalline appendages stopped multiplying, though they continued to shift and reconfigure in unsettling patterns.
"That's... actually working?" Tatsumaki's incredulous voice carried across the battlefield. "Baldy's talking the interdimensional horror into behaving itself?"
"Sometimes the direct approach is best," Nobunaga remarked with grudging approval. "Clear boundaries, clearly communicated."
Encouraged by the entity's response, Saitama continued his impromptu dimensional diplomacy. "Look, I don't know what your deal is or why you want to be here, but if you can find a way