Chapter 11 — Eleven Punch
A sliver of daylight filtered in through the broken window. Jogo's eyelids twitched before slowly opening.
"Where is this…?"
The regeneration speed of a curse was astonishing. Though he had been reduced to nothing but a head, Jogo had already regrown his body. His clothes, however, which had been left behind with his original body, naturally did not return. Propping himself up with one arm, he looked around blankly.
"Why am I lying in a pile of rubble and trash?"
He raised a hand to his volcano-shaped head, staring at the scattered garbage and shattered glass around him. Then, almost instinctively, his hand drifted to his neck.
Fragments of memory began to return.
His single eye widened abruptly. His pupil trembled violently.
He remembered now. He had… almost been killed.
Just as he was about to attack that bald human in front of him, his head had suddenly flown off for reasons he couldn't comprehend.
It had happened too fast. No matter how hard Jogo tried to recall it, he couldn't remember what had occurred—or why his head had suddenly separated from his body.
—To be decapitated without even a Special Grade Curse like himself noticing… It must have been the monster lurking in this ghost city! And that bald human he had intended to kill must have been reduced to bones by that same monster. Even he, Jogo, a Special Grade Curse, had nearly died!
Realizing this, Jogo's eye bulged as cold sweat ran down his back.
"Geto only told me that a Special Grade Curse had been born in this ghost city—he never said it was this strong… Damn that fake monk!"
His black teeth ground together with a sharp grrk-grrk.
Filled with fury, Jogo sprang to his feet.
"I can't stay here. If I run into that ridiculously powerful thing again…"
Muttering to himself, he cautiously scanned his surroundings before vanishing from the spot with a sharp whoosh.
---
Rustle, rustle, rustle…
On the balcony of his small apartment, Saitama was crouched down, watering the single cactus he owned while flipping through his bankbook with a worried expression.
"Only 2,000 yen left in savings… and who knows when the stipend from Jujutsu High will come in…" he muttered to himself. "Looks like I'll have to get a part-time job. Man, I really don't want to work…"
He put away the elephant-shaped watering can and straightened up. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly caught sight of a pale blue afterimage streaking across the road below, disappearing into the distance in an instant.
"Huh? Why is there a blue-skinned guy who looks like a volcano running around naked…? Is he one of those nudist types?"
Watching Jogo—who had poured all his cursed energy into fleeing and hadn't even activated concealment—Saitama tilted his head suspiciously.
"Things around here are getting dangerous lately. Now there are even full-on naked perverts."
---
Wake up at the same time every day. Train his muscles. Eat the cheapest bananas for breakfast. Turn on the TV and watch live broadcasts—if a crisis appeared somewhere, put on the yellow jumpsuit and cape and head out to deliver justice. Then rush to the supermarket before closing time to grab discounted items nearing expiration.
After that, return home, wash the jumpsuit and gloves without a scratch on them, cook dinner, watch TV while eating, and turn it off when sleepy.
Day after day, Saitama lived this ordinary routine. Though he had defeated countless evil forces over the years, no one had ever noticed. Naturally, he received no financial compensation for it.
He only wanted to devote himself to his hobby. But since money was necessary to survive, whenever he ran low, he had no choice but to take on part-time jobs. Joining Jujutsu High at Gojo's urging had also been for the sake of focusing on his hobby without worrying about finances.
Now seated at his desk, Saitama clicked through job listings on his computer. The glow of the screen reflected in his eyes—and faintly off his bald head.
"Bookstore clerk, 989 yen per hour…"
"Dock loader, 1,500 yen per hour…"
"Convenience store cashier, 1,077 yen per hour…"
"Temporary security for an idol handshake event, 4,200 yen per hour… That's high!"
He clicked into the listing.
"Tall idol Takada-chan individual handshake event. Location: Chiba Prefecture. Two-day duration. Includes hearty lunch and dinner, lodging, and personal insurance. Duties include entry inspection, maintaining order at the handshake event, protecting Takada-chan's personal safety, and isolating overly aggressive fans…"
After reading through the description, Saitama moved the cursor to the application button.
"Sounds pretty simple. I'll sign up."
---
A seemingly ordinary low-rent apartment in Tokyo concealed something extraordinary. Outside the door was a narrow, dim corridor. Inside was sunlight, blue skies, clear seawater, and a white sandy beach.
Several beach chairs were laid out on the sand. Geto Suguru, wearing his monk's robes, a long-haired young man with stitched scars across his body, and a curse with saplings growing from its eye sockets reclined lazily. In the shallow waters near the shore, a red Special Grade Cursed Womb bobbed up and down.
Jogo burst into the apartment building after sprinting all the way there. He flung the door open and stormed inside, flames spurting from the vents of his volcano head in rage, his voice cracking as he shouted:
"Geto Suguru, get out here!"
"Oh, Jogo! What took you two whole days to get back?"
Before Geto could respond, the long-haired young man with stitched markings sprang up from his beach chair and greeted him cheerfully. But upon seeing Jogo clearly, he froze.
"Jogo… why are you completely naked?" he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.
Geto and the curse with saplings in its eye sockets—Hanami—also sat up and turned to look. Seeing Jogo stark naked, even Geto's usually narrow eyes widened slightly in rare surprise, while Hanami made a series of strange sounds.
"Shut up, Mahito!" Jogo snapped, humiliation surging through him as he pointed at the stitched youth's nose. Then he turned angrily toward Hanami. "And you too, Hanami! Stop babbling! You spout a bunch of nonsense syllables, yet somehow the meaning goes straight into my brain—it's disgusting!"
Hanami didn't get angry. Slowly, it pulled out a set of clothes identical to Jogo's usual attire and handed them over. Jogo quickly dressed, then strode aggressively toward Geto.
"Geto…"
Lowering his head, his massive eye dark and menacing, Jogo clenched his black teeth.
"What's the deal with the monster in the ghost city?"
Geto paused for a moment and countered calmly, "What do you mean?"
"Before I left, you never said that thing—that 'Turbo Granny'—was that strong!"
Jogo's fury boiled over as Geto remained unfazed.
"I came back like this because my head was blown off by the monster in the ghost city! I had to regrow my body from scratch, so it took me two full days to return! My clothes were gone along with my original body—that's why I ran all the way back naked!"
"And it was fast. When it attacked, I saw absolutely nothing!"
"You said the ghost city plan was something you initiated four years ago!" Jogo roared. "Can something that terrifying really be cultivated in just four years? Are you hiding something from us?"
Mahito and Hanami stood silently nearby. The air grew terrifyingly still.
After a long pause, the ever-present smile faded from Geto's face.
"Tomorrow, take me to the ghost city," he said thoughtfully.
"Huh?" Jogo's expression changed. The memory of that place still sent chills down his spine. "Why do you want to go there?"
"I want to see what kind of curse is there," Geto replied quietly. "If it bears hostility toward us, I'll have to subdue it with my Cursed Spirit Manipulation."
---
The next day.
"Jogo, there's nothing here."
Standing at the center of the ghost city, Geto looked around and frowned.
"Forget Special Grades—I can't even detect a single Grade Four or lower flyhead. Do you sense anything?"
"Nothing…" Jogo replied irritably. "That Turbo Granny moves so fast. It's not easy to catch its presence."
He muttered, "Maybe it just passed by us without us realizing. That's exactly what happened when my head got knocked off—I didn't sense any cursed energy at all, yet my head suddenly flew away…"
"…"
Geto fell silent for a moment. The smile on his face cooled.
"Jogo, fear has taken root in your heart," he said coldly, opening his eyes. "You're no longer useful on this trip. Go back."
"…What did you say?"
Jogo froze briefly. Then the magma inside his head boiled violently. But soon, he twisted his mouth into a malicious grin, and the temperature in the air spiked sharply.
He raised his hand. A rose-shaped rotating flame bloomed in his palm.
"Turbo Granny is only fast. If she loses that advantage, she might not be able to withstand my attacks. My fighting spirit is burning right now. I'll just burn down these buildings—and wherever that old hag is hiding—together."
Flames erupted, instantly swallowing the surrounding structures. A sea of fire spread rapidly, illuminating the entire street. Buildings groaned and collapsed under Jogo's bombardment.
Standing at a distance, shielding himself with cursed energy, Geto sighed.
"Still too impulsive. A curse is still a curse…"
His expression darkened as he watched Jogo unleash widespread destruction.
"There's nothing here—not even a single person. We should head back and gather more information first."
Jogo didn't notice that Geto had already quietly left—or perhaps he simply didn't care. All he wanted now was to annihilate the monster that had separated his head from his body.
His attacks flew in all directions. Just as Jogo was in the midst of his rampage, a burst of fire that didn't belong to him shot in from behind.
The Special Grade Curse spun around and launched a blast of flames. The two infernos collided and canceled each other out. Golden fire and black smoke exploded upward, forming a mushroom cloud.
"What…?" He narrowed his eye, peering through the flames.
From the opposite side of the blaze stepped a handsome blond young man clad in steel armor. His hand was still raised in an attacking posture, the cannon in his palm faintly glowing red.
"I was away for half a month," the cyborg Genos said coldly. "When I return, I find someone attacking near Sensei Saitama's home…"
"My sensors detect massive energy output."
"What exactly are you?"
---
Meanwhile, Chiba.
"The security interview for Idol Takada-chan's handshake event begins now!" the manager announced. "First, physical capability."
"Item one: strength test! Punch this sandbag. The screen will display your punching power in kilograms."
Saitama threw a punch.
The sandbag exploded instantly, stuffing and electronic components scattering everywhere. The display crackled with blue sparks before going dark, unable to measure anything.
"…Next item, martial arts. Please strike this wooden dummy…"
One punch. The dummy snapped cleanly in half with a loud crash.
"…Next item, reaction speed. When the red light appears, press—"
Boom.
The instant the red dot appeared, Saitama punched the machine. The screen briefly displayed a reaction time of 0.00001 seconds before short-circuiting completely.
"Um…" The manager extended a hand weakly. "I hadn't finished speaking. When the red light appears, you're supposed to press the button, not punch the machine…"
"Oh, sorry!" Saitama said quickly.
"It's fine. Your reaction was just too fast. I spoke too slowly."
The manager forced a smile, then cleared his throat solemnly.
"Mr. Saitama, you're hired. It's urgent—can you start immediately?"
"Heh…" Saitama smiled faintly, his expression suddenly serious. "Sure. I've got plenty of free time."