The parted sky remained for three full days. It became a global phenomenon, a terrifying, beautiful scar that every astronomer, every conspiracy theorist, and every government on Earth was frantically trying to explain. The official narrative settled on a "once-in-a-millennium solar wind event." Privately, the members of Project Bald Cape simply labeled the satellite images [EVENT_SAITAMA_01] and tried not to think about what _02 might look like.
In the half-demolished apartment, life had become even more surreal. The landlord had shown up, taken one look at the gaping hole in reality where his back wall used to be, and had a mild, speechless heart attack before being escorted away by a "special government relocation team." For now, Saitama, Genos, and Kafka had an entire, structurally unsound apartment building to themselves.
"So, the Progenitor," Kafka said, nervously stirring a pot of instant coffee on a portable camping stove. The city below was in a state of quiet panic over the sky, but in their wrecked home, a strange sense of calm had settled. "It's the... the thing that makes all the Kaiju. A galactic-level threat. And you want to... what? Go pick a fight with it?"
"Yep," Saitama said. He was sitting on the edge of the abyss that was his former living room, his legs dangling over a fifty-story drop. "Sounds interesting. The Herald guy was pretty tough."
"Master," Genos interjected, his voice still filled with a lingering awe. "The 'Herald' was an entity that wielded a power capable of erasing planetary bodies. You classified this as 'pretty tough.' I believe we may have differing definitions of the term."
"He made my fist tingle a little," Saitama clarified, as if this explained everything.
Kafka just shook his head. He had gone from being a fugitive hiding from the army to a roommate of a man who was casually planning an interstellar war because he was bored. He couldn't decide if his life was better or worse. It was definitely weirder.
"And how are we supposed to get there?" Kafka asked. "This Progenitor. Is there, like, a bus?"
"The gateway is the key," Genos explained, his analytical mind taking over. "Dr. Kuseno's signal was hijacked. That means the frequency is still active. If I can recalibrate my systems, I may be able to reopen a stable portal. Not back to our world, but to the source of the interference. To the Progenitor's location."
"But it will take time," he added. "And an immense amount of power."
So their course was set. Genos would work on turning their apartment into a makeshift, and highly dangerous, dimensional gateway generator. Kafka would... make sure they didn't run out of coffee. And Saitama would wait.
This period of quiet preparation, however, was interrupted by an unexpected arrival.
A sleek, black Defense Force transport hovered outside their gaping hole-in-the-wall. On its side was the crest of the First Division.
"What is it now?" Saitama grumbled.
Two figures rappelled down onto the floor of the apartment. Kikoru Shinomiya, in a simple officer's uniform, her face serious. And right behind her, Mina Ashiro, her expression a complex mixture of determination and profound, weary resignation.
"We need to talk," Mina said, her voice steady, but her eyes were fixed on Kafka. It was the first time she had seen him since he'd transformed in front of her.
Genos and Saitama, sensing this was a 'them' conversation, quietly retreated to what was left of the kitchen.
Mina and Kafka stood in the ruins of the living room, the impossible, parted sky a dramatic backdrop.
"I..." Mina began, then hesitated, the years of their shared history, their promises, their secrets, all fighting for words. "The things I've said. The reports I've filed. I'm sorry." It was an apology not just for her actions, but for the entire lie her life had become.
"You were doing your job," Kafka replied, his voice quiet. There was no anger, no resentment. Only a sad, deep understanding. "You were being the symbol they needed you to be."
"That symbol," she said, a bitter edge to her voice, "is the reason they hunted you. The reason Hoshina... is becoming what he is. I stood by and let it all happen, for the 'greater good'." She looked him in the eyes, her own filled with a fierce, burning shame. "I failed you, Kafka."
"You didn't," he said simply. "You tried to protect me, even when you didn't know the truth. You stood up for me. In that room... that was the Mina I always knew."
A tense, charged silence hung between them. It was a moment of healing, of reforging a bond that had been shattered.
Kikoru, who had been standing back, finally stepped forward, her patience at an end. "This is all very touching," she said, her voice sharp. "But we are not here to reminisce. We are here because the world has gone insane, and you two," she looked from Kafka to Saitama, who was now peeking out from the kitchen, "seem to be the reason why."
She held up a datapad. It displayed a single, stark image: a satellite photo of the sky, ripped open, taken directly above their apartment building. "This. This was you, wasn't it?" she asked, her gaze locking onto Saitama.
Saitama just gave a noncommittal shrug.
"My father is losing his mind," Kikoru continued, a note of frantic energy in her voice. "Hoshina is locked in his lab, doing things to himself that I don't even want to think about. The world's leaders believe we're about to be hit by a solar flare that will wipe out civilization. And my rival," she shot a glare at Mina, "is holding the entire Defense Force together with duct tape and lies. All of it... it all started when you appeared."
She took a deep breath. "I'm not here as a Captain of the Defense Force. I am here because I am out of options. I need to understand. What are you? And what is coming next?"
This was it. The final, desperate plea for truth from a world that could no longer handle the secrets.
Saitama looked at the two women. The famous, powerful heroines of this world. They weren't here to fight. They were here because they were scared. Lost.
He sighed. Explaining things was a pain.
"He's a big monster that makes other monsters. He broke our apartment," Saitama said, pointing vaguely upwards. "So we're going to go find him and punch him."
The sheer, childlike simplicity of his explanation was so jarring, so completely devoid of the cosmic, world-ending importance of the situation, that Kikoru and Mina were struck speechless.
This wasn't a hero preparing for a final war. This was a man getting ready to go deal with his upstairs neighbor.
It was in that moment that they finally understood. The cosmic written test, the final philosophical battle for the fate of the world... it would not be a test for Saitama. The Progenitor would present its complex, galactic justifications, its theories on evolution and conflict.
And Saitama's answer, his final choice, would be as simple, as direct, and as unshakeably human as the man himself. "You broke my stuff. Now I'm gonna break you." And for the first time, Mina and Kikoru didn't see a god or an anomaly. They saw a hero. A really, really strange hero. And for some reason, that was more reassuring than anything else in the entire world.