Tatsumaki:
This was truly a nuisance. Not only did they make me wait two hours — well, at least I was with my husband — but then they took him away because they urgently needed him, and now they had me stranded in this place without being beside my lovely husband. Damn it! Why did I have to wait surrounded by these pathetic heroes? Most of them were insufferable stuck-up fools and a nuisance to look at. The only ones worth tolerating were my sister, Isamu, Bang, King and Genos, though the last one was a separate case I barely tolerated. The rest were still complete imbeciles.
"My, Oneesan, your stress is very visible. Why do you keep looking at the door?"
"It's none of your concern." I replied telepathically with no intention of extending the conversation with my sister.
"I thought they were getting along better. Did something happen?" Bang said, somewhat concerned.
"That's what happens in a relationship like ours. There's always one member who takes it upon themselves to generate a dreadful atmosphere."
I scorched Fubuki with my gaze from across the room. That spoiled little girl loved exasperating me and did it with an ease I found personally offensive.
"Polygamy sounds complicated. Why not just have one wife? That way I could make my mom talk to Oniisan more often. It's obvious she has a soft spot for him." Isamu cut into the conversation with a smile I knew far too well.
"Are you trying to be clever, you little demon?" I scorched him too, though with him it was considerably harder to make him care.
"Calm down, Oneesan. If you keep this tense you're going to end up causing a structural collapse in the building before the meeting even starts."
"I'm not tense. I'm surrounded by incompetents and no one has explained to me yet why we're here. I just want to go home."
"I think you are tense." Fubuki cut in again, with that tone of hers that sounded innocent and never was. "In fact, I think I know exactly why."
"Don't start."
"It's just that it's quite obvious, Oneesan. You've spent the last twenty minutes looking at that door waiting for Darling to be the one who walks through it, when you know perfectly well that he has no reason to be at a Heroes Association meeting. But well, I suppose it's understandable. Last night you were particularly loud, so I understand wanting to see him as soon as possible to… continue last night's conversation."
—FUBUKI!!
I shouted it before I could contain myself, and the shout resonated through the entire room with enough force that several of the heroes present startled, which only made everything worse because now the complete attention of the room was on me, wondering what had happened, and I had no way to explain it without admitting absolutely anything.
My sister smiled at me from across the room with an expression of perfectly fabricated innocence, as if she hadn't just exposed me in front of half of Class S without any apparent effort.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Oneesan. Was that private information? I thought everyone already knew how dedicated you are with our husband."
I wanted to disappear from the face of the earth at that instant. Or make her disappear, which I found considerably more satisfying. Damn it, how had that wretch become so insufferably smug?
—It was nothing. —I muttered through clenched teeth, not looking at anyone, trying to recover some of the composure I had just lost in under five seconds in front of a room full of people who now had conversation material for weeks.
Fubuki, of course, said nothing more. She didn't need to say anything more. She had already gotten exactly what she wanted.
The rest of the time we waited in silence for half an hour, a silence that I filled mentally with everything I would do when this damned meeting finally ended and I could return to where my husband was. When the doors finally opened I straightened up in my chair with the anticipation of seeing exactly one specific face walk through that…
—Sorry for the delay. Mr. Sitch, who was in charge of the meeting, will not be able to present himself at this moment. My name is Busho and I will be the one to provide you with the inform…
—I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!
The shout came out before I could do anything to contain it. The entire room turned toward me. I didn't care. I had had two hours of flying, half an hour sitting in that chair and now they were telling me that the person who supposedly justified this waste of my time wasn't even going to appear. I got up from the chair with the intention of leaving that place immediately, and along the way finding my husband who was locked up in some corner of this building because some damned…
"Wait. Is Darling at the Association?"
"…"
"…"
I stood where I was for a moment more.
Damn it! That wretched little brat read my mind! Since when had she been connected to my head without my permission?!
—NO! GET AWAY FROM SAITA…! …ma?
I cut myself off cold. I had turned brusquely toward my sister and in that movement, with all the anger and stress accumulated over the last two hours firing at once, I had responded out loud. In front of the entire room.
Fubuki was rubbing her forehead with an expression of vicarious embarrassment that I found personally offensive coming from someone who had been the direct cause of all of this.
I looked at those present. They looked back at me. I saw the exact moment each one finished processing what they had just heard and began piecing things together. This would not come to anything good.
—Sensei is here! I'm leaving immediately. —Genos had already stood up and was heading toward the exit at a speed I didn't ask whether was appropriate or not because I no longer cared about anything that was happening in that room.
—Commissioner Saitama is in this building?! I have to find him immediately! Damned baldy! —said that insufferable Metal Bat, who also disappeared through the door shouting more things that faded as he went.
—Oniisan is here! I have to show him my new invention and see how we're going to finish the game level. Are you coming, Bang?
—Of course. I've been wanting to invite him to the dojo — we have a pending shōgi game that's been waiting far too long.
—I'll join you too. I've been wanting to talk to handsome Officer Saitama for a while. —said Puri-Puri-Prisoner, joining the group of old man and boy without anyone asking him, with an energy I chose not to analyze.
—I need him to review the latest case we collaborated on. I'm going too.
—I'll go with you, Zombieman. I also have a pending meeting with Saitama. —said King with complete seriousness while the sound of his engine resonated through the room as always.
In under two minutes, more than half of Class S had abandoned the meeting room in the direction of my husband. I stood looking at the door for a moment processing what had just occurred. What remained was a collection of heroes who were either too narcissistic to be interested in anything that wasn't themselves — like Flashy Flash, Drive Knight and Atomic Samurai — or too dim-witted to have even understood what happened, like Pig God who continued eating with absolute indifference, Superalloy Darkshine staring into the void with that face of his, Tank Top Master nodding at something nobody had said to him, and Watchdog Man sniffing the air in a corner as if the meeting didn't exist.
I said nothing more. I emerged from the emotional shock as best I could and set off to find my husband. Fubuki was behind me with a smile she was trying to hide and that I could feel perfectly without needing to turn around.
"You really didn't expect half the Class S roster to run off looking for Darling, did you, Oneesan? I'm still surprised by how unpredictable you can be sometimes."
"Just shut up for once."
"I say it with affection."
"Shut. Up!"
֍֍֍
—Oniisan, look, with this new combo you can clear level 5 no problem and then we go straight into the boss's castle so we can finally get the swo…
—Young Saitama, this time don't forget our shōgi game. I have the board in my bag. I'll give you a three-piece advantage, which seems fair given how much you've improved since last time.
—Commissioner Saitama, I've been very well-behaved in prison this time. I got out without causing major damage, only two walls and one bar — which I think is a personal record. Can you give me back my things that my boyfriends sent me? I miss them so much. Pretty please.
—Mr. Saitama, I've found concrete leads on the City I assassin case. With this information we can establish a perimeter before he strikes again and I need you to review the report because your field judgment has been more accurate than the entire department combined and…
—You, damned baldy! You promised my sister you'd be at her presentation today! This time you'll really pay for it! And you'd better show up at my next shooting practice because if you don't… and it's not like I have any particular fondness for you, lousy police officer, so don't get any ideas!
—Don't bother sensei. And I won't allow you to speak to him that way without consequences. Perhaps you need someone to teach you how to properly address a superior.
—YOU SHUT UP, PIECE OF SCRAP!! THIS IS BETWEEN HIM AND ME!! AND WHO ASKED YOU ANYWAY!!
—Good grief. Why does Mr. Saitama have to be surrounded by such insufferable children? It's exhausting just being in the same room.
—Who are you calling an insufferable child, you presumptuous witch?! Say it again!
—I don't need to repeat anything. The fact that you heard it clearly the first time already says quite a bit about your auditory capacity, though I can't say the same about your reasoning capacity.
—YOU'LL SEE!!
—Saitama, when are you going to return the game you borrowed from me? It's been three weeks already.
Saitama was at the center of that disaster in a relatively composed state, having lived through something like this before. Well, not with this many people. He now found himself in a Heroes Association meeting room surrounded by Class S fighting among themselves, with an official who had made several failed attempts to begin the official meeting and had already stopped trying while he waited for the scandal to collapse on its own. Not only had they destroyed an expensive door on the way in, but from the moment they had been brought to that room they hadn't stopped for a single second.
The only decent person in that entire chaotic group was, as always, Tatsumaki. She was keeping to his side at exactly the right distance not to raise suspicions in front of the others, with that posture of hers as always, arms crossed and an expression that didn't admit unsolicited conversations. But if one looked carefully enough, and Saitama always looked carefully enough, one could see how her fingers held the edge of his uniform with a softness that didn't correspond at all to her outward expression.
How adorable.
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Tatsumaki:
I was truly hating every second of this. These people hadn't stopped talking like desperate lunatics since they came in and the scandal showed no signs of dying down on its own. Damn it. Why had I shouted it without thinking? Now I wouldn't be able to talk to my husband in peace with all these people around. At least I was gaining points in my favor by staying calm while the rest of the room burned, but if this didn't resolve itself in the next 30 seconds I was going to explode myself and the building with everything inside it.
Wait… wasn't this an important meeting?
I had it.
With a snap I generated a pressure wave that swept through the entire room with enough magnitude to interrupt every simultaneous conversation at once. Several looked at me with puzzlement, others with evident irritation, but I didn't care about either group. My husband had given me his attention and that was the only relevant thing.
—As I understand it, this was a meeting about an incident that required our presence. Can someone explain what it's about?
—That's true. —said my husband with that smile of his that I had to deliberately look away from to avoid blushing in front of the entire room—. Mr. Sitch mentioned to me that my collaboration was also needed in this. I want to know specifically what they're asking for.
The effect was immediate. Seeing the seriousness in my husband's face worked better than any intervention of mine: everyone returned to their seats without anyone needing to tell them anything, and Sitch, who had been waiting several minutes for that silence, couldn't hide the smile of satisfaction before beginning to speak.
—Thank you, Mr. Saitama. Well, I summoned you here because you are the best of the best and that cannot be surpassed. Blast and Metal Knight have not responded to communications and we can wait no longer. Those who decide to stay will receive all available information and their collaboration will be irrevocable. Those who prefer not to participate will be temporarily detained until the meeting concludes, without consequences for their rank. Having said that, what I'm asking of you is the same thing I already asked Mr. Saitama… Please I ask you to move forward and help save the Earth!
Nobody responded. It was understandable, because said that way it sounded quite foolish. If it was the end of the world, my husband and I together were more than sufficient. The rest of those present were, at best, decorative support.
—Perhaps you don't grasp the gravity of the situation. Listen to this: Madame Shibabawa has died.
That time there were reactions, though moderate. I reacted too, because that changed the context considerably. Sitch continued speaking but I ignored most of it, because the way he presented information was tedious and I could process the details afterward. I only returned my attention when I heard my husband's voice.
—Madame Shibabawa? Who is that? A heroine? —he asked with genuine bewilderment.
Poor thing. Not one of these pathetics had taken the time to fill him in. Neither had I, nor Fubuki, because neither of us had considered it relevant until now.
—Madame Shibabawa, Mr. Saitama, was a psychic with extraordinary abilities who predicted several catastrophes over the years. Her hit rate on the last documented predictions was 100%. In exchange for her collaboration we provided her with security and residence in exchange for advance information. What matters is that before she died, specifically before she choked on her pill, she managed to write what is possibly the most important prediction she ever produced. And the probability of it being fulfilled within the next few months is very high.
Sitch placed a piece of paper on the table that was scanned and projected before everyone present. The message was short. It didn't need to be long to do what it did.
THE EARTH…
…IS…
?…IN DANGER.?
THE EARTH IS IN DANGER.
—As you can see, this potential cataclysm surpasses any kaijin threat we have faced until now, and possibly exceeds even the dragon disaster classification in terms of scale. That's why I summoned you here.
—Reasonable. —said Flashy Flash with the characteristic indifference of someone who considers everything that isn't himself to be secondary—. But I wonder why a police officer would be included in this room. He's not part of the organization. At best he'd be a hindrance with good intentions.
—What did you just say about my sensei? —Genos was already on his feet, and he wasn't the only one. Fubuki, Isamu and Metal Bat were looking at Flashy Flash with a unanimity that in other circumstances I would have found satisfying. I scorched him with my gaze too, because that insufferable stuck-up fool had been carrying that attitude throughout the entire meeting and he had already reached my limit of tolerance.
—Calm down, Genos. —said my husband, and Genos sat down before the sentence was finished—. It's probably because of my rank as commissioner. Apparently that has relevance in this context.
—Mr. Saitama is right as always. This incident requires coordination at an institutional level, and both Commissioner Saitama and Mrs. Fubuki have a specific role in what's to come. That's why they're here. I ask that you prepare yourselves. The estimated window is 6 months.
Silence. Genuine this time. Nobody had an immediate response to that, which was reasonable because the implicit question was how to prepare for something without a concrete date. A very foolish plan.
—Six months is the estimated limit. But it could be tomorrow. It could even be today. Correct? —said my husband with a seriousness that I recognized immediately as the one he adopted when he had already made a decision.
—Yes, sir. —Sitch replied with visible discomfort.
A small smile appeared on my husband's face. I knew it well. It meant he had already decided and everything that followed was just consequence.
—Then it's a good thing I came.
—BOOM!! BOOM!! BOOM!!
The explosions arrived without warning. The entire building began to vibrate with a violence that didn't correspond to any minor attack. The others reacted — some shouted, others were already in combat position — but I didn't hear any of it because I only registered one thing: my husband's arms wrapping around both Fubuki and me at the same time, shielding us from the small objects that were falling and the little dust with that calm of his that didn't change regardless of what was falling around him. As always. A true and lovely gentleman.
The explosions briefly stopped and then a considerably larger detonation shook the entire building with enough force for the main lighting to give way and the emergency lights to take their place in red. When the movement stabilized, Sitch was already reviewing the monitors with an urgency that presaged nothing good.
—AAAAH!! The destruction levels register 99.8%. City A has been compromised in its entirety. The entire city was destroyed in an instant!! I thought we had more time!! How were we supposed to know it would arrive so fast?!
I turned immediately to check on my husband out of concern.
But… he wasn't there.
Fubuki had also noticed, with her eyes fixed on the empty space where he had been sitting. Then both of us looked upward at the same time. In the ceiling there was a hole of considerable proportions, with the irregular edges of something that had exited at high speed in the direction of the sky without stopping to use the door.
A small smile settled at the corner of my lips without my being able to do anything to prevent it.
—You really are efficient, my dear.
—Sensei! We have to…! —Genos's shout cut off abruptly when his gaze found the hole in the ceiling. He went still processing what it meant, and then looked at us with a judging expression of shame and pity that spoke for itself.
—Too late to react, scrap metal.
֍֍֍
Outside, on the roof of the Heroes Association headquarters, Saitama was looking at two things that bothered him in equal measure. The first was City A, or what remained of it: an expanse of rubble that stretched to the horizon where there had once been streets, buildings and people, erased from the map with an efficiency that left nothing recognizable. The second was the ship that was overflying those ruins with the calm of something that considers its work already done, enormous and without any haste, as if destroying an entire city were something normal.
That bothered him. A lot.
With exasperation he pulled the phone from his pocket, one of the two things that had survived his previous problem along with his cap.
—Satoru, what's the situation down there?
—Mr. Saitama, thank God you're alright. We were inside the Association building when the catastrophe occurred, we're all on our feet. I've already coordinated a rescue team to search for survivors in the perimeter and I have your new uniform ready as you informed me to deliver. I just need your location to send it up.
—I'm on the building's roof. And Satoru… as efficient as always.
—Thank you, sir.
He ended the call. 5 seconds later, Mosquito Girl appeared before him without reducing speed, delivered the package with the uniform in one hand and stood at attention waiting for instructions without saying a word, with the posture of someone who already knows that words are wasted time when there's work to be done.
—Go with the rescue team and help with the evacuation… I'll take care of the big problem.
She nodded once and disappeared downward without replying anything more. Saitama appreciated that.
In the blink of an eye he changed into the uniform. Impeccable and comfortable as always. He adjusted his cap, looked at the ship once and a small smile crossed his face.
—Let's see how resistant this thing is.
He didn't think about it anymore.
He crouched and leapt toward the ground from the rooftop with all the speed he decided not to contain. The impact when he touched the street generated a crater of several meters in every direction, and the shock wave that came from that point swept the surrounding rubble as if it were paper. But that was only the arrival impulse. What came next was different.
He launched himself upward.
The acceleration he concentrated in that second movement was of another category. The projectiles that had destroyed City A — the same ones that had pulverized entire buildings with direct impact — disintegrated from the simple brush of the air displaced in his wake, without him touching them, like obstacles that ceased to exist for being in the wrong place at the wrong moment. The distance between the ground and the ship disappeared in a fraction of a second.
He went through the hull of the ship head-on.
The impact was not an explosion. It was something more precise than that: a punctual energy transfer that shook the ship's entire structure from the point of entry outward, displacing it laterally several meters in the air with a movement that no stabilization system on board could compensate for.
Saitama stopped inside, looked at what surrounded him with the same expression as always and adjusted his cap.
He knew perfectly well that at this moment he should not hold back. And he wouldn't. That afternoon there was a first-rate meat discount he could not miss. Under any circumstances.