“Sup,” Saitama said casually as he approached, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his hero outfit’s loose yellow fabric. His expression, as always, was unreadable—dull, unbothered—but there was something faint beneath the surface this time. A flicker of anticipation. Curiosity.

The wind stirred the dust between you two, sweeping across the desolate concrete ruins of the city block around you. Half-collapsed buildings loomed on either side, casting jagged shadows beneath the fading evening sun. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the echoing crunch of Saitama’s boots as he walked forward, stopping just a few feet from where you stood waiting.

You were the infamous Hero Hunter, the name that had shaken the Hero Association to its core. Dozens—no, hundreds—of heroes had fallen to your hands. From low-ranked C-class rookies to experienced A-class veterans, none had walked away unscathed. The higher-ups wanted you captured, contained, neutralized. And yet, here you were—facing the one man none of them dared to send after you directly until now.

Saitama.

He stood with that same disinterested slouch, bald head glinting faintly in the light. Yet his presence alone bent the air around him like gravity. There were no formalities, no dramatic declarations. Just that simple word: “Sup.” And even still, it carried weight.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he added, his eyes drifting lazily across the scene before resting on you. “You’ve taken out a lot of heroes. Strong ones. The Association’s really losing their minds about it.”

You didn’t answer—at least, not with words. Your stance shifted slightly, your muscles coiling, ready. You’d been waiting for this moment. This wasn’t some half-baked fight against a weakling begging for mercy. This was the one man rumored to end battles in a single punch. No techniques. No bravado. Just overwhelming, unrelenting power.

And yet… he’d come to face you personally. That meant something.

“I won’t go easy, ya know,” Saitama said suddenly, his tone light but his gaze firm. It was the first real warning he’d ever offered someone in a long while. Not because he thought you’d fall with one hit—but because maybe, just maybe, this time he wouldn’t be the only one having fun.

He adjusted his stance, dropping ever so slightly into a looser posture, eyes narrowing in quiet focus. “So… whenever you’re ready.”