The morning sun bathed A-City in golden light, and the Hero Association HQ hummed with its usual rhythm—new recruits running drills, analysts hunched over screens, and engineers fixing what yesterday's heroes broke.
Saitama stood casually outside the trial zone, arms crossed, leaning back against one of the metal pillars. His eyes drifted lazily toward the training area where Genos was currently undergoing his official Association fitness evaluation.
From the loud crash, boom, and someone screaming "WE NEED A NEW WALL!" inside, he figured things were going smoothly.
Man, they better not put that on my tab, he thought with a sigh. I just got rich yesterday I don't wanna start to spend all of my money immediately.
Just as he was considering heading to the break room for some free coffee, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Mr. Saitama. Good morning."
He turned and gave a faint nod. "Oh. Hey, Jinzuren."
The tall man in the sleek grey suit approached with his usual calm expression and clipboard in hand. He always looked sharp, formal—like he was either about to give a TED Talk or shut down a failing company.
"We meet again," Jinzuren said smoothly. "I see your disciple is giving our testing team another... exciting day."
"Yeah," Saitama replied, scratching the back of his head. "I figured I'd let him do his thing. Not much else for me to do right now."
"Actually," Jinzuren said, his glasses catching a glint of sunlight, "that's what I came to talk to you about."
Saitama raised a brow. "Oh yeah? What's up?"
"The executives would like to meet you. Just a brief visit. They've been following your activities closely since your S-Class recommendation was approved." He tapped his clipboard lightly. "They also want your opinion on a few things. Specifically, the hero names our marketing team has drafted for your public profile."
Saitama frowned. "Hero names?"
"Yes. Since you're not using one yet, the Association has a few suggestions prepared. But the board thought it appropriate to involve you in the final decision."
He blinked. "You're not gonna call me something weird, right? Like... 'Lord Punch' or 'Caped Egg'?"
Jinzuren let out a short chuckle. "Nothing that severe. Though... I can't make promises on behalf of the interns in marketing."
Saitama sighed. "Alright, fine. I've got time. Genos still has, like, four death gauntlets left to punch."
Jinzuren gestured politely toward the elevator. "Right this way, then."
As they walked, Saitama eyed him sideways. "This isn't one of those secret evaluations or anything, right?"
Jinzuren smiled in a way that gave absolutely nothing away. "It's just a meeting, Mr. Saitama. Casual. Brief. And possibly important."
Saitama narrowed his eyes but said nothing. His gut told him something else was going on behind the scenes… but he was also kind of curious.
And slightly concerned that one of the proposed hero names would include the word "Chrome Dome."
After a few minutes walking through pristine hallways lined with polished floors and decorative panels bearing the Hero Association's emblem, they finally reached the room. Two armed guards in crisp black lounge suits stood at either side of the heavy reinforced door. Their sunglasses hid their eyes, but even through their composed stance, Saitama could tell these weren't your average security guys—they had the kind of calm that only came from expecting violence and being perfectly fine with it.
Jinzuren stepped forward without hesitation.
"He is with me. Let him through," he said in a tone that was more of an executive decision than a request.
The guards exchanged a brief look, then gave a subtle nod. Without a word, one of them reached for the biometric scanner and unlocked the heavy door with a soft beep.
"Come on, Mister Saitama," Jinzuren said, gesturing with a small wave of his clipboard as he walked through first.
Saitama stepped forward and paused at the door. He turned toward the guards and gave them a casual nod. "Thanks."
Neither of them smiled, but one of them replied with a dry, "You're welcome, sir," in a way that still felt genuine.
Huh. Polite muscle, nice, Saitama thought as he followed Jinzuren inside.
As he entered the room, his eyes adjusted quickly. It was large, spacious, and cold—not in temperature, but in tone. The walls were dark gray and matte, clearly designed to keep distractions minimal. Everything in the room exuded professionalism and formality. It reminded him a bit of a courtroom or a corporate war room. Except, you know, with a city-view to go with the judgment.
A giant panoramic window dominated the far wall, offering a clean, full view of A-City's skyline. Right in front of the window stood a long, curved table made of dark polished wood. Six chairs were arranged behind it—five occupied, one empty.
Saitama's eyes swept over the people sitting in those chairs.
From left to right:
Busho, a bulky, stone-faced man with a military buzz cut, who had the aura of someone that probably ate protein powder raw.
Exma, a composed and serious-looking woman in a black suit, sharp features and sharp eyes—he vaguely remembered her from the manga.
Sitch, the familiar man with the droopy eyes and the prominent nose, likely the Association's Head of Strategy.
Sekingar, the cyborg-looking man with a partially visible mechanical arm and stern gaze. He had the intense posture of someone always analyzing and Saitama remembered him briefly from the Monster Association arc.
Toribo, an older man in a brown traditional jacket with bushy eyebrows and a calm, almost grandfatherly demeanor, though his eyes were focused like lasers.
The last chair, previously empty, was now being taken by Jinzuren, who smoothly moved behind the table and sat down without a word.
Saitama stood still for a moment, looking at all of them. And they looked back. No one said anything. For a full ten seconds, the silence was heavy, tense, and awkward.
They didn't just see him. They studied him. Every movement, posture, detail—like he was a puzzle they couldn't quite solve.
Why are they looking at me like that? he thought. What is this, an interview? A court martial? A staring contest?
He almost said something, but then decided to wait. He had a feeling this wasn't a situation to open with a joke.
Finally, it was Sitch who spoke, his voice calm and professional.
"Mister Saitama… thank you for coming. We've all been very interested in meeting you."
Here we go… Saitama thought.
Saitama stood with his hands loosely in his pockets, his expression unreadable, as the six executives continued to study him from behind their desk. He could feel the weight of the room—subtle, but pressing.
Sitch folded his hands and leaned slightly forward. "Let's begin with a few simple questions, if you don't mind, Mister Saitama."
Yeah, definitely some kind of test… Saitama thought, suppressing a sigh. Why does everything feel like an entrance exam in this world?
"Sure," he replied casually. "Go ahead."
Exma was the first to speak. "In your own words, what does being a hero mean to you?"
Saitama blinked. That wasn't what he expected.
"I dunno. I guess… helping people? Punching the right guys? Not doing it for fame or money, even though the paycheck is nice," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Mostly just being someone reliable when it matters."
There was a brief silence.
Sekingar narrowed his eyes. "You're currently ranked S-Class. You must be aware that people will look up to you. Some might even fear you. How do you plan to handle that level of public attention?"
Saitama shrugged. "I don't really care about attention. If people are safe and the monsters are gone, that's enough for me. They can think whatever they want."
Toribo gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Jinzuren raised an eyebrow slightly, but said nothing.
Busho crossed his arms. "In combat situations, how do you assess a threat and decide whether to engage with lethal force?"
Saitama blinked. "If it's trying to kill people, I stop it. I usually don't need to think that much—most monsters don't exactly open with conversation. But if there's a chance to talk it out? Sure. I'm not a psycho."
Another pause. A few of them exchanged subtle glances.
Okay, Saitama thought. Yeah, this is definitely some kind of personality evaluation. Subtle, but I'm not dense. Still, guess I passed?
Sitch finally smiled slightly, a rare sight. "Thank you for your honesty, Mister Saitama. We appreciate your candor."
"You're welcome," Saitama said. "So, are we done with the deep questions or is this the part where I find out I'm secretly adopted?"
That actually got a couple of them to chuckle.
Jinzuren took over again, his voice back to its usual professional tone. "Now, for the real reason we asked you here. As you may know, once a hero is registered with the Association, they're eventually given an official hero name."
"Right. I think I heard something like that," Saitama said.
"Well," Jinzuren continued, "normally, we allow the hero to give us suggestions or choose from a list compiled by our marketing department. These names are meant to be memorable, marketable, and ideally, a reflection of your abilities or image."
Exma tapped a folder in front of her and slid it across the table. "The team prepared a few options, based on your preliminary dossier."
Saitama picked it up and glanced at the list.
There were a few… not-so-great ones.
"Mr. Infinity"
"The One-Punch Man"
"Titan Fist"
"The Comet Hero"
And at the bottom… he saw it.
"Caped Baldy"
"…Seriously?" he asked, squinting at the paper.
Toribo chuckled. "That one was actually submitted as a joke by one of the interns. But it made the shortlist anyway."
Saitama just stared at it.
Caped Baldy… You've got to be kidding me. That's literally the name Saitama had in the original timeline. The irony is so thick it could break a wall.
He handed the folder back without a word.
"Well?" Jinzuren asked. "Do you have a preference? You're welcome to submit your own idea too."
Saitama tilted his head, then sighed. "Honestly? I don't really care what name I get. I'm still gonna punch stuff the same way."
Exma raised an eyebrow. "You don't mind being called something like Caped Baldy?"
Saitama frowned slightly. "Actually, I'd rather not. Sounds like a joke more than a hero name."
He tapped the list once. "Personally, I think The One Punch Man fits better. It's… accurate and it gets the point across."
There was a brief pause as the executives exchanged surprised glances.
Sitch gave a small nod. "Very well. We'll take that under consideration."
Another silence followed—but this time, it was filled with a quiet kind of approval. Not the enthusiastic, clapping kind, but the slow-building sense that the man standing before them, despite his disheveled appearance and odd humor, might just be the real deal.
"Well then," said Sitch with a half-smile, "thank you for your time, Saitama. We'll finalize your hero name soon. Until then, keep doing what you do best."
Saitama gave a casual salute and turned to leave.
As the door closed behind him, Toribo murmured to the others, "Humble. Grounded. Surprisingly sharp."
"He's either a fool playing wise," Sekingar muttered, "or the wisest fool we've ever had."
"Let's just hope," Jinzuren added quietly, "he stays on our side."
As Saitama stepped out of the large executive room and back into the Association's main hallway, the first thing he saw was a familiar figure standing at the end—arms crossed, posture rigid, eyes focused.
"Genos?" he called.
The cyborg turned immediately, his eyes lighting up. "Sensei."
He jogged toward him, looking… conflicted.
"You done already?" Saitama asked casually, hands behind his head.
"Yes," Genos nodded, though his tone carried an edge of frustration. "I've completed all the physical and written evaluations. They've just handed me my results."
"And?" Saitama raised an eyebrow.
"…I've been placed into the S-Class," Genos replied. "Rank 18."
Saitama blinked. "Whoa, nice! That's the top class, man. Congrats."
But Genos didn't smile.
"It's the lowest rank of the S-Class," he said, almost bitterly. "I had hoped for better. I expected to be ranked higher… to be worthy of your teachings."
"Genos…"
"I promise, sensei!" Genos suddenly said, stepping forward and bowing deeply. "I will rise through the ranks. I will improve myself and make you proud to be my master. That is my solemn vow."
Saitama scratched his cheek awkwardly. "Dude… it's not a competition."
Genos didn't move from his bow.
Saitama sighed. "Listen, I'm already proud of you, alright? You blew up a whole building in two seconds. You scared a mole into farting. That's pretty impressive."
That made Genos finally look up, eyes wide with surprise.
"Let's just get ramen or something," Saitama added, turning to walk toward the elevator. "I'm starving. You're paying, by the way. You probably haven't burned through your first paycheck yet."
Yeah I am a cheap bastard, so what? Thought the cheap bastard while he talked to Genos.
Genos stood up straighter, posture returning to its sharp, disciplined stance.
"Yes, sensei. I would be honored."
And with that, the two heroes walked side by side, one fueled by determination… and the other by hunger.
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