"...That's how it is, old man."
Saitama finally finished his story, and Hiruzen frowned, digesting what he'd heard from the bald hero.
Outside the Hokage Tower, dawn was approaching. Stars began to fade, the sky noticeably lightening, and birds awoke from sleep, filling the village outskirts with their cheerful calls.
"Your story is incredible, Saitama-kun," the Third Hokage began. "And though it's hard to believe... it seems you really were transported to our world without knowing it."
Sandaime was stunned by what he'd heard. The guy before him was a hero from another world who'd reached unimaginable power. He'd fought monsters, gods, and who knows what bijuu else. Details of that world—its structure, tech, culture—had also amazed the old shinobi.
The Caped Baldy had been scanned multiple times with Byakugan, but no trace of chakra or chakra pathways was found. Nor were any concealing fuinjutsu seals detected. All this suggested Saitama's abilities weren't from the shinobi world.
Hiruzen pulled out his pipe again and began packing it with tobacco.
"So what do I do?" Saitama asked lostly. Back home, King, Genos, and... his cactus were probably waiting. Yeah. He hadn't watered it in ages.
Sarutobi pondered deeply. The Hokage himself didn't know how to handle the guy's issue. The Class B hero had shared details impossible to make up. And why would he? For simple village infiltration, a simpler, more believable story would've sufficed.
Imagine: Professor witnessed an invasion into his world—unintentional, but still. One thing was clear: Konoha was lucky the Caped Baldy had no militaristic goals. With his power level, Saitama could cause massive problems not just for the Hidden Leaf Village but the whole world if he wanted. Of course, the Root ANBU leader was already alerted, and his people were digging into this guy. But the Hokage believed Saitama. He didn't know why, but he believed every word.
And yet he was wary. Shinobi experience told him this guy in the forest hadn't shown even half his capability. Open confrontation would be folly at best. Sarutobi wasn't sure who'd win their fight. And recalling the young man's rank was merely "B," the Hokage mentally thanked the Shinigami and all higher powers that no S-Class hero—who should theoretically be even stronger—had shown up.
That said, Konoha had a chance to gain a Kage-level "shinobi." Temporary, but such reinforcement could tip the scales in the standoff among the Five Great Villages. The current lull was usually just the calm before the storm.
"Saitama-kun, I suggest you stay with us," Hiruzen lit his pipe with Katon chakra and took a puff. "For now, until we find a way to send you home."
Saitama had little choice, so his agreement was logical.
"OK," the Caped Baldy yawned and casually started digging in his ear.
*Sheesh. Manners worse than a bijuu!* flashed through Sandaime's mind.
"Though, one issue," Saitama returned to a serious expression and crossed his arms.
Hiruzen raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"I'm no fool, old man, and I get your offer isn't pure altruism," the hero said slyly. "So what exactly do you want from me?"
Sarutobi was initially stunned but then mentally applauded the guy. The dumb face was clearly a facade, for misdirection.
"Hm," the Hokage exhaled a couple smoke rings. "Fair. I didn't invite you for nothing. First, I'm curious about your abilities..."
"Oh, old man," Saitama rolled his eyes. "I got no special abilities. I just trained a ton and now I'm so strong I beat anyone in one punch."
Hiruzen skeptically shook his head but continued:
"Fine, we'll table that. Second, if the village is in danger—you're on our side, help fend off enemies if needed."
"Sure, easy," the Caped Baldy waved it off. "Got nothing better to do."
"Good," the Hokage declared. "Now go. Someone will escort you to your new... abode," he chuckled.
A few hours later, the academy
A stream of young shinobi larvae sat in one of the ninja academy classrooms. The kids listened intently as the chunin instructor read out the future team rosters.
"Team Seven!" Umino Iruka announced. "Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura, and Uchiha Sasuke!"
The little blond was thrilled to be teamed with a girl he liked. And though the pink-haired future kunoichi's presence filled him with boundless joy, it was inevitably overshadowed by the brooding, arrogant brunette in the trio. The little jinchuriki disliked the Uchiha from first sight. And the feeling was entirely mutual.
Naruto wanted to protest the lineup—why team him with an Uchiha?—but suddenly recalled yesterday's fight with the strange bald guy named Saitama. That guy had single-handedly stood against a dozen Konoha shinobi and scattered them like kids. Even the Hokage hadn't engaged him.
*If only I could apprentice under Saitama-san...* the boy daydreamed. Naruto wasn't great with names in general. He often made up nicknames. And he wasn't big on name suffixes. But if he respected someone, he'd address them with full deference, even by name.
"Your jonin instructor will be Hatake Kakashi..." the chunin hesitated. "Though he's in the hospital after... uh, a mission. So Team Seven, you're free for now."
Iruka had been patched up after the night's ordeal. Despite his injury, he'd made it to genin assignments. But Hatake Kakashi was less fortunate. He had a severe concussion, shattered jaw, broken ribs, open arm fracture, and multiple hematomas. Lucky the spine was intact. So the Copy Ninja would be under medical ninja care for the next week.
Team Seven exited the academy grounds. Sakura frowned in displeasure:
"How's that? Everyone else trains with instructors, and our sensei's in the hospital! Is he some weakling? Or a loser?"
The pink-haired girl was bursting with eagerness to act. She wanted to show off what she'd learned in the academy ASAP.
"Sakura-chan, don't worry. We can train together..." the blond began.
"Shut up, baka!" Sakura interrupted. "You're the worst in our class. How'd a weakling like you get a forehead protector?"
Naruto wanted to argue, but memories of last night surfaced. When they'd subdued him, he'd felt total helplessness despite his new technique. Yeah, he really was a weakling.
Naruto bit his lip and quietly muttered:
"You're right, Sakura-chan."
"...Huh?" the girl was speechless at the change in the blond. He was always hyperactive, loud, and overly optimistic. Had they swapped him out?
"I'm weak and I admit it," Naruto began, clenching his fists. "But I promise it'll change. I'll change and become the strongest shinobi in the world. Then—Hokage for sure! That's my ninja way!"
A grim determination burned in the child's eyes. He was seized by the drive to go all the way, never give up. The nearby kids froze in shock.
Serious Naruto? No joke?
"Gotta go," the blond tossed over his shoulder, heading home. He'd set a goal and meant to achieve it. First step: find a great mentor like his new acquaintance.
*Wait for me, Saitama-sensei! I'll do anything to be your apprentice!*
"Achoo!" the bald guy barely covered in time. "What was that? Acclimation? Haven't been sick since those training days."
Saitama lounged on the bed in his new one-room apartment, courtesy of Sarutobi Hiruzen. Though "apartment" was too grand. The single room served as bedroom, kitchen, entryway, and hallway. At least the toilet and bathroom were separate behind a door with peeling white paint.
The furnishings embodied minimalism: creaky bed with a wobbly stool nearby, sink, crooked cabinet, wooden table, mini electric stove, and fridge. The latter was empty, but Saitama reassured himself it'd be temporary. The Hokage promised an escort for a Konoha "tour" and help with groceries.
Overall, the guy was fine with it. So what if he'd been isekai'd? So what if the world was weird—no planes, cars, computers, or tech. Electricity existed—good enough. Sure, no TV in the room, and such luxuries were for the rich. But cinema existed, and people watched it. Usually in theaters. Saitama learned this morning en route to the apartment.
The Caped Baldy pondered. He hoped Genos and friends were fine back there. And the world would survive—opponents and monsters kept getting deadlier for many heroes. But they had S-Class heavies, including mysterious top-1 Blast. They should manage... probably.
*Eh, not my problem anymore. Can't help 'em, no point stressing...* Saitama thought.
Maybe it was for the best. Perhaps here he'd find worthy opponents who wouldn't drop from one punch. Or... maybe in this weird world, he'd find a new purpose? Not just heroing for fun or to clash with the strong, but a real worthy goal. Who knew?
His thoughts were interrupted by a confident knock:
*Knock-knock-knock*
Saitama jumped up to open. He was ready to go anywhere. Just not rot in four walls waiting. Opening the door, he froze in bewilderment.
Before him stood a very cute girl with dark-purple hair in a short spiky ponytail. Her outfit: open jacket with pockets and a short miniskirt. Under the jacket, mesh semi-transparent lingerie from neck to thighs revealed incredibly alluring curves. Gray shin guards covered her calves. If not for Saitama's iron will, forged in harsh training, instincts would've taken over and given him a nosebleed. But this was the Caped Baldy. His face held that detached expression with a faint hint of interest.
"Gonna stare all day, baldy?"
The guy's eye twitched, but he restrained the surging killing intent and indignation. Probably, he'd eyed the girl too long.
*Weird. Didn't order an escort, and timing's off...*
"And you are?" Saitama asked rather rudely. "I'm waiting for someone from the old man. Sorry, but I don't need intimate services. No money anyway."
...
The girl's jaw muscles worked, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed dangerously. Clenching her fists, she entered uninvited and shut the door. Taking a couple steps past the guy, she spun and roundhouse-kicked straight at the bald head...
Not long before
Mitarashi Anko had finally returned from her two-week mission in the Land of Tea. She covered the last stretch to Konoha at night to report ASAP. Then: stock up on dango, grab some sake, celebrate a successful mission; after—crash guilt-free.
Around eight a.m. Sky clear. Sun not scorching yet but warming her back under the coat. She slowed to a leisurely walk through the main gates. Barely ten steps in, an ANBU shinobi appeared before her.
"Mitarashi Anko, you're ordered to report to the Hokage immediately," came a muffled voice from under the mask.
"But I'm heading there anyway," the girl said irritably. "Something up?"
"Nothing serious. Hokage has a new mission for you. Follow me," the shinobi leaped onto the nearest building and sped across rooftops.
Anko cursed colorfully but soon followed. The tokubetsu-jonin was underslept, hungry, and thus very pissed. But orders were orders, so upon arrival, she suppressed her ire and strode measuredly into the Tower, then the Hokage's office...
The talk with Sarutobi was brief. She turned in the mission and took a new one.
Her current task: escort a certain bald guy who'd recently appeared in the village. Show him around, brief on basics, hand over some money. No details on the mission. Who this guy was, worth a tokubetsu-jonin as tour guide—unclear. She thought Sandaime had lost it. Nearly all village men feared her. And she had to chat, guide, and feed (oh Rikudo!) some stranger all day.
"Bijuu, do I look like a tour guide? Or babysitter?" Anko hissed through gritted teeth, heading to her new target's apartment.
After meeting Sarutobi Hiruzen, she'd managed a shower, quick bite, and freshen-up. So her overall heat was somewhat lower. But far from Buddhist "zen."
Deep breath in, slow exhale, she knocked on the battered door.
It opened immediately. A bald guy in black pants and white tee. His face was blatantly dumb yet indifferent—she itched to brick it.
She asked why he was staring.
For a moment, something sinister flared from the guy. It reminded Anko of her teacher Orochimaru. But the next second, seeing that same dumb mug, she figured it was her imagination.
"And you are?" the guy asked. "I'm waiting for someone from the old man. Sorry, but I don't need intimate services. No money anyway."
The girl nearly flipped (she could—she summoned snakes). NO ONE had ever addressed her like that. This suicidal nut thought she was some whore?
Regaining control, she entered, closing the door so no one saw her beat a civilian. No chakra in strikes. Normal ones would suffice for this idiot. He seemed headcase, but no excuse. Anko wouldn't hold back physically. If she brained him—so be it.
In her rage, she totally forgot a key detail: this was a mission from Sandaime himself to escort this weirdo.
*Thwack*
"A-a-a-a... Ow! Damn you bijuu!"
Saitama stared in surprise at the one-legged-hopping kunoichi clutching her heel.
"Dumbass, you made of iron or what?" the girl hissed.
"This... uh," the hero scratched his bald noggin puzzledly. "You kicked yourself on me. And what're you doing in my apartment?"
"G-g-g..." the girl growled uncharacteristically but recalled her mission.
Releasing her foot, she continued:
"I'm Mitarashi Anko. Sent by the Hokage."
"Ohhh. Well, I'm Saitama. You said 'Hokage'? Who's that? Some shadow*? No clue. Speak plainly."
The kunoichi's palm met her own face. Though she badly wanted to smash someone's dumb mug. But she explained:
"I'm your escort. From... the old man."
"Shoulda said so," the guy said.
The girl willed her twitching eye to stop. Was this guy really dumb, or mocking her?
Saitama strode briskly to the exit. On the landing, he paused and turned.
"You coming? Let's go. Starving here."
Anko rolled her eyes and muttered:
"Oh Kami, give me strength to finish this C-rank mission..."
(* — kage — Japanese for "shadow")
***
Read the story months ahead of the public release — early chapters are available on my Patreon: patreon.com/Granulan