In the silent void of outer space, the sun crept along the planet's curved horizon, painting the atmosphere in bands of orange and gold.
Exposed to countless forms of cosmic radiation without any protection, Jordan Evans floated in the vacuum and held his breath. He couldn't resist spreading his arms wide in a grandiose salute to the distant star.
After a moment, he realized two things: the omnipresent cosmic radiation wasn't harming him, and sunlight wasn't enhancing him like some Kryptonian solar battery.
How disappointing.
Still, the Naruto trip had been incredibly fruitful. He'd saved Tobirama Senju, who'd almost died.
More importantly, he'd gained multiple elements needed for advancing toward Six Paths-level power.
Most critically, his diverse abilities had been refined and integrated over three months of training. His combat capability now approached that of a young god of shinobi.
F-boy's voice echoed in his mind: [Don't believe rumors. Don't spread rumors.]
Either way, worth celebrating.
Time to go home.
Jordan activated Dimensional Travel. A portal materialized beside him, event horizon crackling with spatial distortion.
He stepped through without hesitation.
This time, there was no disorienting spin through collapsing dimensions. Suddenly there was air to breathe again, and the familiar lake appeared before his eyes.
He'd returned to the One-Punch Man world.
[Dimensional Travel has entered cooldown period: 30 days]
Everything around him remained exactly as it had been when he'd left. The lake. The suburban forest. Even the scorch marks from his railgun test. While Jordan had completed an entire journey to another world and undergone a fundamental transformation, barely any time had passed here.
Perfect.
Let's celebrate with hot pot.
Jordan snapped his fingers and vanished.
Ten minutes later, a black portal split reality open. Blast poked his upper body through, looking around in confusion.
"Strange. There was a significant spatial fluctuation here, but not a single trace left behind?" He stroked his chin, frowning. "What exactly did that kid do?"
When no answer presented itself, Blast relaxed and shrugged.
"Whatever. I'll ask him next time we meet."
The portal collapsed with the same abruptness it had appeared, leaving only a howling gust of wind that gradually faded to silence.
A thunderous crash shattered the quiet residential street.
A black sedan spun through the air in a wild arc, tumbling directly toward a terrified mother and daughter on the sidewalk below.
The mother, dressed in a floral butterfly-print dress, pulled her daughter's head against her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. The shadow above her expanded, swallowing them both.
Death descended.
A pair of ordinary hands caught the falling car.
The impact drove the young man's feet backward, sneakers shrieking against the asphalt. The upside-down roof crumpled deeply where his palms braced against it. Blood dripped from his forehead as he slowly, trembling with effort, lowered several tons of twisted metal to the ground.
The mother opened her eyes.
A black-haired young man in a blue and white tracksuit stood before her, breathing heavily. Blood and sweat ran down his face, staining half his features red.
"Are you guys okay?"
"Y-yes! We're fine!"
"Then you should run. The monster isn't dead yet."
"Th-thank you so much!!"
The mother stumbled away carrying her daughter, disappearing around the corner. The street fell silent.
Saitama wiped blood from his eyes and touched his blood-soaked hair. "My hair keeps getting in the way during fights. No, wait—why am I thinking something so dangerous? I don't want to go bald this young!"
The supermarket's exterior wall exploded outward. Through the smoke, twin red lights blazed—the monster's eyes.
Saitama took a long breath. His arms, which had caught the car, had recovered some strength. He shook them out, then clenched both fists.
"Not finished yet, you bastard!"
Following Z-City's disaster broadcast, Jordan arrived at the incident site minutes later.
Saitama sat on top of a massive black humanoid monster corpse, panting heavily. One sneaker had fallen off somewhere. The other, along with his tracksuit, had been upgraded to a trendy shredded version. Bruises covered every visible inch of skin.
"Thank you for—huh?"
A clean white towel appeared before him. Saitama took it reflexively before recognizing the person holding it.
"Oh, Jordan. What a coincidence."
"Not really. I came because I heard the disaster broadcast." Jordan gestured at the demolished monster. "Didn't expect you'd already handle it."
"Yeah, well." Saitama wiped blood from his face. "I heard there's a discount supermarket that opened here. Thought I'd stock up on supplies for the week..."
He glanced back at the supermarket.
Or what used to be a supermarket. Now it was rubble and twisted steel.
The huge "SPECIAL SALE" sign, which had survived the entire battle, finally gave up. Sparks erupted from its frame, and it collapsed with a thunderous crash.
"Guess I'm not buying anything today." Saitama shrugged and looked at the dark clouds drifting in from the horizon. "Looks like rain soon. I haven't brought my laundry in from the balcony yet. Need to hurry back."
Beneath his shredded tracksuit, the exposed wounds had already stopped bleeding. Scabs were forming across the cuts. Saitama acted like nothing had happened, as if someone else had taken the beating.
"Let's do hot pot at your place," Jordan suggested. "You lost a lot of blood. Need to eat meat to replenish it."
Saitama had originally planned to buy discounted meat for hot pot anyway. The suggestion hit him right where it counted.
"I'm fine. It's just annoying having to mend my clothes again."
He glanced down at himself. The remaining sneaker had a hole worn completely through the sole. More hassle than it was worth.
He kicked it off and tossed it aside.
"But Jordan, are you sure it's okay to leave work right now?"
"Of course. I told you, I'm in a special position." Jordan reached out and pulled Saitama to his feet. "I even took a three-month paid vacation recently and went traveling. Want to consider switching careers?"
Saitama gave him a flat look. "My grades in school were average, but don't lie to me. We see each other all the time. Where would you get a three-month trip from?"
"Don't believe me? I'll bring you along next time if there's a chance."
"Wait, is it actually true? Are police benefits really that good?"
Jordan personally prepared the Sichuan-style spicy broth. As the induction cooker heated the pot, the mixture quickly came to a rolling boil.
Saitama was still busy in the kitchen, washing vegetables and arranging ingredients on plates. He worked through the mountain of food with mechanical efficiency.
His hand movements gradually accelerated beyond normal human capability. Saitama's expression twisted into something complicated.
Good news: plenty of ingredients.
Bad news: plenty of ingredients.
He was clearly experiencing both pain and pleasure simultaneously.
Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked across the sky.
The clouds opened up.
Before long, heavy rain poured down outside.
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