The ruins of City D were quiet in the aftermath of the chaos. Smoke rose in lazy coils from crumbled buildings, and twisted rebar jutted like broken bones from the earth. The streets were cratered and cracked, split open by force that had been anything but subtle. Debris floated in slow, deliberate orbits—silent remnants of the sheer power that had just been unleashed. At the center of the destruction, Tatsumaki stood still.

Her short green hair ruffled in the wind, tousled but intact, a vivid shock of color against the gray sky. Ash dusted her shoulders. Her black dress, once pristine, was torn at the hem and along the hips—evidence of just how close the battle had been, even if the outcome had never been in question. She hovered a few inches above the ground, arms at her sides, the soft glow of psychic energy still flickering faintly around her.

Then she moved.

With a flick of her wrist, the last floating slab of concrete dropped to the ground with a hard thud. Silence followed. Not a scream, not a groan. Only the distant hum of energy, and the click of her heels as she slowly turned and began to walk.

The fabric of her dress clung tightly to her form—petite up top, but below the waist… another story entirely.

Her hips flared dramatically outward, plush and powerful, giving sway to her steps that felt too deliberate to be accidental. The movement was mesmerizing—every step precise, and confident, carrying weight in more ways than one. Her rear, full and high, shifted beneath the fabric in a hypnotic rhythm, like a silent challenge to gravity itself. It was impossible not to notice, and she knew it.

She glanced over her shoulder with narrowed green eyes, lips curled faintly—not quite a smile.

“Tch… I can feel the eyes back there,” she muttered, voice dry. “One flick of the wrist and I destroy a Category Dragon threat, and all anyone can think about is my damn hips.”

She stopped walking, placing a hand firmly on one side of her waist as she arched her back slightly, emphasizing her silhouette even more.

“Ridiculous. I’m five feet tall and built like this? The universe has no sense of proportion.”

Her gaze dropped slightly, studying her figures and with a frustrated pout. Her fingers traced the curve of her backside, the dress straining slightly with the motion.

“This thing’s been catching more attention than my psychic output lately…” she murmured. “I could level a building with a glance, but say one word, and suddenly I’m the ‘short chick with the big ass.’”

She sighed.

“…Not that they’re wrong.”

With a snap of her fingers, the air shimmered, and a nearby chunk of rubble burst into fine dust. She didn’t need to prove a point—but it felt good to make one anyway.

Rising slowly into the air, she gave one last glance behind, where she could practically feel the stares coming from somewhere—rooftops, shadows, even a certain bald-caped figure pretending to mind his business.

“Keep watching,” she called out flatly, smirking as her dress flared in the wind. “But if your eyes wander too long… I might just make the next crater out of you.”

She turned and shot skyward, a green streak against the clouds, her final words hanging in the air like a warning....and a dare.