Chapter 41 — Fourty-One Punch
The waters of the hot spring swirled with white mist. Floating in the pool was a blue-haired youth, his body covered in stitching marks from head to toe.
Mahito stretched his arms wide, naked, drifting on the water's surface. His hair was no longer tied into braids, instead spilling loosely behind him, and his heterochromatic eyes stared blankly at the vague mist above.
Amid the steam, his voice floated upward like soap bubbles, one by one.
"A complete failure…"
Silence hung for a moment, until a string of uneven footsteps approached, reaching the edge of the hot spring. Then came the voice of Jogo.
"How long are you going to stay in there?"
"How long, indeed…" Mahito's voice wavered, drifting like a kite in the wind. "It's difficult… the wounds Satoru Gojo inflicted haven't fully healed yet."
"But most of them have already recovered, haven't they?" Jogo said in a low, grim voice. "Now isn't the time to dawdle."
"Hanami is dead."
"No one knows which one of them in the labyrinth killed him."
"So you can't afford to drag this out. Do you think we made you the leader for nothing?"
Floating in the water, Mahito tilted his head slightly, half of his face submerged in the sulfur-scented water, even half of his eyeball hidden beneath the rippling surface. The stitching lines across his face warped eerily with the water's distortions.
"Hanami… must have been killed by Sukuna," he answered indirectly. "You said it yourself, didn't you? Outside the labyrinth, you could sense Hanami's presence: it flared up, then suddenly vanished. That means he was instantly killed while at the height of his battle intent."
"The only one capable of such a feat must be the two-faced Sukuna," Mahito murmured. "After all, that kid has no reason to deceive us. We even made a binding vow he can't break, and he still needs my 'passive transformation' to restore his body."
"Moreover, the last time, I too was knocked unconscious by the two-faced Sukuna in one strike. That shows that, with Sukuna's current strength, instantly killing Hanami is not impossible."
"So what then?" Jogo's expression darkened further as he asked softly.
"Jogo… don't you understand yet?"
Another voice cut in. Suguru Geto, wearing a black coat, approached with a faint smile.
"What do you mean?" Jogo turned his gaze toward Geto, his eyes clouded with uncertainty.
"…The key lies in Sukuna's attitude," Geto said, standing at the edge of the hot spring, looking down on Jogo and Mahito. "Why exactly did Sukuna kill Hanami? There are many factors here that others would pay attention to."
"If Hanami provoked him, leading to his elimination, that's understandable—though, given Hanami's cautious nature, I don't think he would ever act so recklessly. But if Sukuna killed him simply because of Hanami's existence, or because he interfered with the exchange meeting and fought the students… then Sukuna's attitude becomes worth considering."
"I mentioned this before," Geto lifted a finger, lightly pressing it against the stitching on his forehead. "There are two ways to achieve your goal. One is to seal Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer. The other is to win over Sukuna, the strongest curse."
"But if Hanami was killed by the two-faced Sukuna, whether we can sway him becomes an unknown. If Sukuna, for some reason, chooses to cooperate with humans, then we must devote more effort to the method of sealing Gojo."
At that, Geto glanced over his shoulder, casting a cryptic gaze toward a distant figure.
—Standing farther away was a young figure, delicate and androgynous, dressed in monk robes, sporting a bob cut, appearing about a teenager's age. The child seemed uninterested in the curses' conversation, eyes drifting in the opposite direction.
"Is that so…" Jogo murmured, "rather than trying to sway Sukuna, sealing Gojo is the higher priority…"
Though Geto's reasoning made sense, Jogo always felt a certain unpleasantness emanating from him.
For example, that subtle, high-and-mighty aura Geto could never fully hide, though it leaked out in faint threads.
Thinking this, Jogo's displeasure deepened. He lowered his single eyelid, his red eye narrowing at Geto. "This scheme during the exchange meeting to steal Sukuna's fingers—it was your plan. Stealing the fingers, attempting to sway Sukuna, suggesting the Prison Realm to seal Gojo—yet you never appear in front of the exchange students. Hanami died, Mahito encountered Gojo, and you still…"
"Relax, Jogo. You don't need to be so anxious."
Mahito suddenly interrupted Jogo's words from the water. He stared at Jogo and smiled. "Although it was unlucky to run into Gojo, it wasn't without gain."
"If I hadn't fought him in the school's warehouse, I probably wouldn't have awakened at all…"
As Mahito spoke, his eyes locked onto Jogo's, and he slowly opened his mouth, jaw dropping as if dislocated, face twisted into an unbearably grotesque expression.
"That's…"
Jogo's single eye widened. He saw it—inside Mahito's mouth, besides the tongue, there were… something else.
—Two pairs of tiny arms. The miniature hands twisted and intertwined in Mahito's mouth, finally forming small, intricate seals.
"Domain Expansion—Self-Closure Enveloping Sphere."
Countless giant hands emerged from the air. They closed and opened, forming walls of palms, blocking light from all directions. And normal-sized arms densely sprouted from these walls, writhing in the air.
The enormous hands rose from the water, lifting Mahito, as well as Jogo and Geto standing by the pool, high into the air.
"Oh." Suguru Geto opened his eyes with a faint smile, tilting his head to survey the domain, letting out a soft, inscrutable sigh.
"You've awakened too! Mahito!" Jogo's single eye widened as he called out loudly.
"Mm. Though I'm still not very skilled, I've grown nonetheless. For that, I have Satoru Gojo to thank. He awakened my potential."
At the center of the domain, in the palm of a massive, outstretched hand, Mahito sat with wet hair cascading around him, legs propped up, a calm, confident smile on his face. "Next… it's time to find that kid from Kyoto. The 'binding curse' I made with him is not yet complete."
...
Saitama sat in the spacious first-class cabin, a small table in front of him holding what looked like a "kaiseki meal in-flight," exactly as he had seen in the brochure.
Though labeled "kaiseki," it was largely a gimmick. The food looked similar to a standard airplane meal, far from true kaiseki, though slightly more refined.
Accompanying the meal were gleaming knife and fork sets. Unaccustomed to using them, Saitama politely requested a pair of disposable chopsticks from the flight attendant.
He held the chopsticks at both ends, applying a careful force, and snapped them apart with a sharp "pop."
But the chopsticks didn't split evenly; one stick broke in the middle, leaving the other stick still partially connected at the tips. It looked awkward to use.
"Eh…"
Saitama furrowed his brows, a hint of disappointment on his face. But after a few seconds staring at the chopsticks, he managed to pick up a piece of fish with some effort.
"Oh, this tastes pretty good!" Saitama's eyes lit up as he chewed.
Beside him, Kento Nanami used his knife and fork elegantly. Seeing Saitama's struggle, he couldn't help commenting, "Compared to real kaiseki, this is worlds apart. True kaiseki isn't just about the food—it's the atmosphere during the meal. Of course, the dishes themselves are far more intricate and refined than airplane food."
"Is that so?" Saitama said vaguely, chopsticks in his mouth, "sounds pretty tasty."
Nanami was about to say more when his peripheral vision caught someone walking down the aisle.
A girl with blonde hair tied in twin tails, wearing a cloak-style Kyoto school uniform—Momo Nishimiya from Kyoto school.
Members of the Kyoto school were also seated in first class, but several rows apart from Nanami and Saitama. For some reason, this girl suddenly left her seat and walked over.
In that instant, Nanami's mind rapidly assessed the situation.
Though he was a Grade 1 sorcerer, Kyoto school likely didn't recognize him. Even if they did, they'd probably assume he was just on a business trip, which posed no problem.
But Saitama was different. Any Kyoto student who had participated in team or individual matches with him would instantly recognize his simple, distinctive features.
Conclusion—Momo Nishimiya must not see Saitama.
Quick as thought, Nanami subtly reached out, grabbing the brim of Saitama's "IloveTokyo" knit cap, and pulled it down over his head.
Saitama: "?"
The cap covered his bald head completely, and Saitama blinked in surprise. His view was instantly blocked, and the crookedly snapped chopsticks wobbled in his hands.
As Momo Nishimiya passed by, she glanced casually, expression unchanged, and walked on.
Nanami exhaled in relief. Saitama, having finally removed the cap briefly, looked at him with a clear "I'm not happy" expression: "…."
"Sorry," Nanami adjusted his sunglasses and cleared his throat. "A Kyoto student walked by just now. To prevent them from recognizing you, I had to do that."
"Is that so?" Saitama paused for a moment.
After finishing his meal, Saitama cleared the table and stood. "I'll go to the restroom first."
Walking to the restroom, he checked that it was empty, then stood before the sink, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror. He pulled off the knit cap.
Instantly, the restroom lights reflected off his bare head, brightening the surroundings considerably.
"It feels a bit itchy with a knit cap on a bald head."
Saitama scratched his head, washed his hands, then stared at his reflection, lost in thought.
He wondered how Genos' repairs were going. He had emailed him before leaving, but wasn't sure if he had seen it.
After a while, Saitama put the knit cap back on and returned to his seat.
His round head reflected in the oval airplane window. Outside, the wind screamed past, and under the massive wing, a tiny black figure clung steadfastly.
Golden hair whipped in the airflow, yet the steel body remained unmoving—Genos, using the suction devices on his palms, clinging firmly beneath the airplane wing, expressionless.
After repairs at Dr. Kuseno's lab, Genos had immediately rushed over when he saw Saitama's email. By the time he reached the airport, tickets were impossible to buy, and the plane was about to take off.
Helpless, Genos made a bold decision at the very last moment—he clung to the plane.
People had held onto motorcycles, buses, trains—but never a plane. Air travel conditions are normally fatal to living beings: the altitude, the speed, the freezing winds. Any human would die instantly.
Yet Genos was no ordinary human. As a powerful cyborg, he could accomplish feats unimaginable to regular people.
The flight from Tokyo to Kyoto cut through the night sky, carrying a bald head inside the cabin and a cyborg clinging beneath the wing.
...
Two hours later.
At Kyoto Airport, Saitama, resisting the urge to scratch under his knit cap, followed Kento Nanami down the airstairs.
"Sensei!"
A familiar voice suddenly called from behind. Saitama froze, tugging at his ear. "Strange… I think I just heard Genos' voice… no way, this isn't Kyoto?"
"Saitama-sensei!"
The voice grew clearer. Realizing he hadn't imagined it, Saitama instinctively turned—and was stunned. His eyebrows shot up, eyes wide.
"Ge-Genos? What… what are you doing here? How did you get here?"
The once-handsome Genos was rushing toward Saitama. His synthetic golden hair, made of reinforced fibers, was a tangled mess like a bird's nest. Frost formed from the vapor of his power clung to his steel frame, with two icicles dangling below his nose. Saitama barely recognized him.
"I clung to the plane to get here, Sensei," Genos said, his face dripping with melting frost.
Not only Saitama, but even Kento Nanami went silent at Genos' words.
"By the way, Sensei, why are you wearing a knit cap? It's clearly hot today," Genos continued.
Saitama's deadpan eyes glanced up at his own head.
"Well… it's to disguise my appearance," Saitama said.
"What? You're disguising your appearance? But why?" Genos asked, puzzled. "You stand out so much already. I noticed you the instant I left the plane. No matter where your head is, I can spot it immediately and orient myself…"
"Not exactly…" A bead of sweat slid down Saitama's neck. "It's precisely because I stand out so much that I need to disguise myself… Now that you mention it, I finally understand why I have to wear this itchy cap…"
Genos was silent for a few seconds, then glanced at Nanami. "Sensei, who is this person?"
"Oh, he's the one who's accompanying me on the sorcerer upgrade mission," Saitama replied. "His name is—"
"Name is… uh, that…"
Saitama paused, then turned to Nanami with a solemn expression. "This is my disciple, Genos."
Nanami's sunglasses reflected a bright gleam, and for a brief moment, his eyes behind them revealed a silent judgment.
Had this bald head forgotten Genos' name?
It didn't matter. Nanami didn't care about such things. After all, he was only cooperating with Saitama temporarily out of respect for Satoru Gojo—and because he received triple mission pay. What mattered more to Nanami was whether Genos' arrival would interfere with his work.
After all, his goal was to complete the task quickly and get off work on time.
"I am Grade 1 sorcerer Kento Nanami, accompanying Saitama on his upgrade mission to Grade 4 sorcerer. We are about to execute the necessary mission together," Nanami said, adjusting his sunglasses and addressing Genos. "You are Genos from Tokyo school, first year, correct?"
"Yes," Genos nodded, then spoke to Saitama. "Sensei, were you going on a mission? Then please don't worry about me."
"Oh…"
Saitama was taken aback, but Nanami continued.
"There are two clues: one, the movements of Kyoto school students; two, residual traces left by curses," Nanami explained calmly. "Since we're already in Kyoto, let's split up for efficiency. You monitor the Kyoto students, while I search for the curse residue."
"Be careful not to be discovered during surveillance. If any issues arise, contact Miss Utahime Iori from Kyoto school. She's aware of this mission."
After briefly covering the instructions, Nanami waved at Saitama. "Report any findings immediately. I'll get started."
Saitama: "…."
The ever-efficient Nanami quickly merged into the crowd outside the airport, disappearing like a droplet into the sea.
Saitama stood frozen, scratching his head, while Genos looked thoughtful. The frost on his steel body slowly melted, droplets falling and forming small wet circles on the ground.
This Kento Nanami was clearly a man of action. Was he the one recommending Saitama, then?
"By the way, Sensei," Genos suddenly called out.
"Huh?"
"What exactly is the mission you're undertaking this time?" Genos asked curiously.
"Oh, just to identify the Kyoto school student acting as an informant for the curses during this exchange event," Saitama replied.
"Is that so? Then I already know who it is," Genos said, expression unchanged, nodding. "Shall I lead you to him?"
Saitama nodded. "Ah, good. Let's go then."
As he spoke, Saitama stepped forward—but suddenly stopped mid-stride.
He turned to Genos, blankly staring. "Ah?"