Fubuki's triumphant smile faltered, then collapsed entirely. She had just orchestrated a master-level psychological de-escalation of an S-Class threat, established herself as the indispensable political shield for the most powerful being on the planet, and his first request was for her to act as a collections agent.
"The... bill," she repeated, her voice flat.
"Yeah. And for the ceiling," Saitama added, pointing upwards where Genos had left a cyborg-shaped dent. "And a few cars outside look kinda squished. Probably add those on too. You seem to know her, so it should be easier for you to track her down."
The members of the Blizzard Bunch behind her shifted uncomfortably, unsure if this was a joke. It wasn't. Saitama's face was as serious as a tax audit.
Genos nodded in agreement. "A logical delegation of responsibilities, Sensei. Fubuki's established familial connection with the perpetrator gives her a tactical advantage in remuneration negotiations."
Fubuki pressed her fingers to her temple, a familiar headache blooming behind her eyes. Dealing with Saitama was like playing 4D chess against a pigeon. The pigeon doesn't know the rules, it just knocks over all the pieces, shits on the board, and struts off like it won.
"Fine," she sighed, the word tasting like defeat. "Fine! I'll... talk to my sister about asset-related reparations." The corporate jargon was a reflex, a way to reclaim some semblance of control. "But this proves my point. The threats you'll face now aren't just monsters. They're S-Class egos, media scrutiny, and crippling property damage lawsuits. You can't punch your way through bureaucracy."
"I could try," Saitama mumbled, more to himself than anyone.
Hitori, having finally dusted himself off, saw his opening. "She's absolutely right!" he interjected, his brand manager persona rebooting. "This is a PR nightmare! S-Class infighting! Unsanctioned use of power! But… it's also an opportunity!" His eyes gleamed. "We can spin this. 'Caped Baldy, the Stoic Peacemaker, Calms the Storm.' It's perfect! It shows strength through restraint! We just need to get you in the studio for a few heroic, thoughtful-looking poses—"
His sales pitch was cut short by a shrill, piercing alarm. It blared not from a phone or a TV, but from a small, official-looking device on Hitori's belt. A Priority Hero Alert beacon.
Every hero in the room, from the B-Class Blizzard Group members to Genos, stiffened. The sound was coded. It wasn't just a monster alert. It was a city-wide evacuation order.
Hitori fumbled with the device, his face draining of color. "It's… it's City Z," he whispered, his voice trembling. "Headquarters is issuing a Threat Level: Dragon alert. All heroes Class-A and above, report to the city center immediately. All other personnel and civilians, immediate evacuation is mandatory."
Fubuki's head snapped up. "City Z? Right now? What is it?"
"It doesn't say," Hitori stammered, reading the tiny screen. "The first reports were just… panicked screams. The downtown sensors all went dark at once. All of them. Power grid, communications, surveillance… a five-block radius just… winked out of existence."
Genos's optical sensors were already scanning global networks, pulling in data from every available satellite. He projected a holographic map of City Z into the middle of Saitama's ruined living room. A large, perfectly circular patch of the downtown core was black. No heat signatures. No electronic signals. No light. Just a hole.
"The phenomenon is expanding," Genos reported, his voice devoid of emotion, a pure relay of facts. "Rate of expansion is approximately one city block every thirty seconds. Estimated time until it reaches this residential zone: twelve minutes."
The members of the Blizzard Bunch began to panic.
"A five-block void? What could do that?"
"It's gotta be another monster from that Association!"
"Lady Fubuki, what are your orders?"
Fubuki stared at the map, her strategic mind working furiously. A threat that blacks out an entire section of the city. A threat that expands. It sounded familiar. Eerily familiar. It sounded like a much bigger, much deadlier version of what had happened in City D.
"It's them," she whispered. "The power-nullifying creature. But… bigger."
Saitama, who had been listening quietly while finishing off the last of his crab legs, finally spoke up. "So, another one." He crunched the shell thoughtfully. "That last guy was pretty flimsy. Maybe they sent his bigger brother." He stood up and began putting on his red boots.
Hitori looked at him, aghast. "You're going towards it? It's an unknown threat! The protocol is to wait for S-Class backup, to form a strategic response team!"
Saitama paused, one boot on, and gave him a blank look. "But I'm S-Class now, right? And I live here. My manga collection is in this city. If it gets wiped out, the new issue won't come out for months." His priorities were, as always, crystal clear.
He started walking towards the hole in his wall, the most convenient exit.
"Wait!" Fubuki called out, her voice sharp. She took a step towards him. "You can't just go in there alone. The last one was weak, but what if this one's different? What if its nullification field is stronger? What if it's not alone? Saitama, for once in your life, think before you punch!"
He stopped and looked back at her. Her face was a mask of genuine concern, not the calculated ambition he was used to seeing. She wasn't thinking about her group or her rivalry with her sister. She was worried about him. The realization was… weird. Unfamiliar.
"You should get your guys and get out of here," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "Help with the evacuation. That's what you're good at, right? The… uh… organized stuff." It was the closest he'd ever come to giving her a compliment.
Fubuki's breath hitched. She was torn. Her instincts as a leader screamed at her to protect her subordinates, to follow the evacuation order, to manage the chaos. But her instincts as… something else, something she didn't want to name yet, screamed at her to follow him. To make sure he didn't do something stupid.
He didn't wait for her decision. With a single, easy step, he was out the hole in the wall and a second later, a sonic boom cracked the air as he broke the sound barrier, heading downtown. The force of his departure rattled the entire building.
Genos turned to follow. "My apologies, Fubuki. My duty is to observe and assist Sensei." He too shot out of the hole, his boosters leaving a trail of blue flame.
Now Fubuki was alone with her squad, the weight of command settling back on her shoulders. "Dammit," she swore under her breath. He was impossible. He was infuriating. And he was heading straight for a black hole in the middle of their city.
She turned to her men, her expression once again cold and decisive. "Alright, you heard him. We're on evacuation duty. Mountain Ape, coordinate with the police. Eyelashes, set up a civilian shelter at the old community center on the edge of town. Everyone else, sweep the evacuation zone. I want every man, woman, and child out of here in ten minutes."
The Blizzard Group snapped to attention, their panic replaced by purpose. "Yes, Lady Fubuki!" They scrambled out of the apartment to carry out her orders.
She remained for a moment, looking at the silent, expanding circle of black on the holographic map. Be careful, you idiot, she thought, the words feeling foreign and strange in her own mind. Then she turned and ran to join her men, her heels clicking an urgent rhythm on the cracked concrete stairs. She had a job to do. But she'd be watching the sky, waiting for the familiar flash of a punch that could save them all.
The downtown core of City Z was an unnerving sight. The border of the phenomenon was a sharp, perfect line. On one side, the normal city buzzed with panic—sirens, car horns, shouting. On the other side… nothing.
It wasn't just dark. It was a consuming, absolute blackness that seemed to suck in sound and light. A building half-eaten by the void didn't look destroyed; it just looked like it stopped existing mid-way.
Saitama landed on a rooftop just outside the border, the wind from his arrival whipping his cape. Genos landed beside him a moment later.
"Sensei, the void field is exhibiting strange properties," Genos reported, his sensors working overtime. "It's not just nullifying energy. It appears to be nullifying causality and information as well. Any drone I send in simply ceases to transmit. It doesn't report its destruction; it just stops being a part of my network."
Saitama peered into the darkness. It was like looking into deep space, but without the stars. "So it's an even bigger turn-offy field. Got it."
He was about to jump in when a new figure appeared in the sky, descending with an eerie grace. It looked similar to the scout from City D, a shimmering, human-shaped patch of static. But this one was different. It was denser, its form more stable. And floating in the air all around it were a dozen smaller, flickering versions—the husks of the heroes it had "silenced." Their eyes were glassy, their movements sluggish and robotic, controlled like puppets. Among them was Glue Gunner and the C-Class beetle hero.
The main creature, the Specialist, focused its non-eyes on Saitama. Its voice echoed, not through the air, but directly inside their minds.
"Another librarian," Saitama grumbled. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but can you turn the city back on? You're gonna make a lot of people late for work tomorrow."
The Specialist tilted its head.
It gestured to the dozen hero-puppets, who all turned and began to shamble mindlessly towards the panicking civilians on the edge of the evacuation zone.
Genos's cannons immediately charged. "It's using the missing heroes as a shield! A distraction!"
The Specialist turned its attention back to Saitama.
The challenge was laid. A direct threat to him, and an indirect one to countless lives. A test of priorities. A classic villain move.
Saitama just scratched his ear. "Man, this is a pain." He looked at the shambling heroes, then at the Specialist. He didn't look angry. He didn't look worried. He just looked… inconvenienced.
"You know," he said, "the real problem with you guys isn't that you're quiet. It's that you're really boring."
And with that, he launched himself off the roof, not at the puppet heroes, but straight into the heart of the absolute darkness.