One Punch Man: I am Saitama

Genos narrowed his eyes as the charred remains of the mosquito swarm fluttered around him, reduced to embers and ash. Smoke curled from his arm vents as systems cooled. His sensors remained locked onto the aerial threat.

Mosquito Girl hovered above, wounded but very much alive. Burn marks streaked her insectile armor, and some of the bristles along her limbs were singed away. Yet her grin was wide, cruel.

"Not bad, chrome boy," she hissed, wings buzzing more violently now. "But let's see how well you do in close combat."

Before Genos could respond, she darted forward—a crimson blur with a trail of wind and blood behind her.

Genos activated his boosters just in time to avoid a lethal strike. Her bladed limb missed his head by inches, carving a gash in the concrete wall behind him as she passed.

She looped around, her claws aimed for his abdomen. He blocked with both arms, the impact sending a shockwave through the rooftop. Sparks flew as metal scraped against chitin.

Genos spun and retaliated with a downward kick—she countered, but not fast enough. He clipped her side, sending her spiraling back midair.

The cyborg didn't let up. He lunged again, grabbing her by the thigh of her right leg, locking down with a servo-powered grip. Her claws slashed wildly at his chest, scoring deep grooves in the plating—but he didn't release her.

His forearm thrusters ignited.

WHRRRR—CRACK!

With a sharp mechanical roar, Genos twisted hard, rotating his entire upper body. There was a violent tear, a spray of dark ichor, and the sickening sound of organic sinew snapping.

Mosquito Girl screamed in rage, clawing at his face, as Genos ripped her leg completely off at the joint.

He tossed the limb aside like scrap.

"You're fast," Genos muttered, "but not invincible."

She howled and backflipped away, blood spraying behind her in a mist—but her expression didn't change. In fact, she didn't even glance down at the leg he had torn off.

"You little bastard…" she hissed, wings fluttering to stabilize her balance midair. "You'll pay for that."

It wasn't until she landed on a nearby rooftop that she tried to step forward—and collapsed on one side, her body tipping hard.

Only then did she blink and look down.

Her face twisted. "What the—?! My leg?!"

She looked at the open stump—still dripping—and then at the limb Genos had discarded several meters away.

The rage returned to her face tenfold.

"You robotic freak! You think this is enough to stop me?!"

Genos's eyes flared. "No. But it's a start."

She snarled and launched herself forward again, even more vicious than before, spinning midair like a drill—her one remaining leg and bladed arms extended in a death spiral.

Genos held his ground, smoke rising from his cooling vents. He crouched, then charged straight at her.

(Meanwhile, a few blocks away)

"Oh man, I hope I'm not late. Those fucking mosquitoes came in like a swarm."

Saitama muttered under his breath as he sprinted through the streets, his yellow jumpsuit billowing in the wind, barely leaving a trace of his passage. His feet pounded the pavement in rapid succession, his speed reaching 617 km/h (383 mph)—faster than a car on the highway, though he was barely even breaking a sweat. He, even on his other life, hated bugs, and the thought of them buzzing around was already making him annoyed.

God, I hate bugs.

He was sure that Mosquito Girl was causing havoc somewhere around here, but he lost her trail after a few blocks. He had followed her scent for a while, but it seemed like she had either hidden or gone underground.

"I need to find her before she—"

Suddenly, a distant sound reached his ears. It wasn't just the usual city noise; it was something more—loud, forceful explosions.

Without even breaking stride, Saitama's eyes narrowed. That has to be Genos.

He didn't even hesitate. Genos was fighting her, he was sure of it. Saitama could already tell by the shockwaves in the air, the debris flying about, and the unmistakable rhythm of Genos's fighting style. His disciple was no stranger to power, but Mosquito Girl had been a serious threat—one that could take even a hero like Genos to his limits.

Saitama picked up the pace, dashing toward the source of the explosions. His thoughts remained strangely calm, as they always did before a fight. It wasn't that he doubted Genos's strength—he just didn't want his disciple to get seriously hurt.

After a few minutes of running at full speed, Saitama reached the heart of the destruction. The ruins of a large building lay in a smoldering heap, the air thick with smoke and dust. In the center of the destruction, Genos was kneeling, one arm barely functioning, his systems flickering as he struggled to hold himself together.

Mosquito Girl hovered just above him, gloating, her remaining limbs twitching, preparing for a final blow. Her face was twisted in an eerie smile, her bloodied body still in fighting shape despite the damage Genos had caused. The two seemed locked in a final, destructive dance.

Genos's internal systems were failing. His arm had been blown off, and his core was about to go critical. He was seconds away from initiating self-destruction. But before he could do so, he turned to face the approaching Mosquito Girl one last time.

"I'll take you down with me, sorry Doctor Kuseno…" he muttered.

But then—a figure appeared.

Saitama, standing in the middle of the street, his expression as unbothered as ever, and his fist raised casually.

This is where I come in, he thought, though the moment didn't feel nearly as cool as it looked in the anime.

He sighed internally, watching the battered cyborg brace himself for a last stand. Genos is about to blow himself up. Damn, I forgot how rough this fight gets for him…

He tried not to fanboy. Tried.

Because, holy shit, that was Genos down there. In the metal flesh. Even more badass in real life. The glowing core in his chest, the scorched armor, the intensity in his face—it is surreal seeing him fight for real and not through a screen.

God, if this was back home, I'd be losing my mind. No way I'm keeping a straight face if I was still in my own body.

But he wasn't. And he couldn't exactly drop to his knees and scream "GENOS-SAMAAA" and ask for an autograph now, could he?

So instead, he put on the bored, flat expression that Saitama wore like a mask and walked forward slowly, trying not to grin like an idiot.

"Hey," he said in the driest voice he could manage, "is this the part where I save you?"

Genos turned, his eye widening at the voice. A stranger stood there—bald, in a yellow jumpsuit with red gloves, looking like some kind of joke. But the pressure he gave off…

"Who the hell is this guy?" Genos muttered, stunned.

Above him, Mosquito Girl floated in the air, wings buzzing as she prepared the final blow. She paused and looked toward the new arrival.

"Who are you?" she hissed, clearly annoyed. "Another idiot trying to stop me?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked past Genos, right under the shadow of the monster, and lifted his arm casually. It wasn't even a punch, really. Just a slap.

A blur of motion, then a gust of wind and a sonic boom.

Mosquito Girl didn't even scream—she was just gone, sent flying so fast she vanished into the clouds above, like a ragdoll caught in a storm. The sky swallowed her up, and her body became nothing more than a speck of black against the blue.

Jesus Christ, the man thought, pulling his hand back. That felt way grosser than I expected. I actually felt her exoskeleton crunch.

But the fan inside him was still screaming: I just bitch-slapped Mosquito Girl. I just recreated that damn scene. Holy shit.

He turned back to Genos, trying not to show any emotion on his face.

"Eh. She wasn't that tough," he muttered, brushing dust off his glove like it was nothing. He looked at Genos, still kneeling. "You good, dude?"

Genos rose slowly, his internal systems struggling to recalibrate, his single eye focused completely on the strange man before him. That… That shouldn't be possible. The monster he'd been on the brink of dying to—obliterated in a single hit. It was incomprehensible.

"Who… who are you?" he asked, his voice shaky, filled with a mix of awe and confusion.

The man scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Okay. Don't act weird. Just drop the line. Do it deadpan. Just like the show.

"Oh, I'm just a hero for fun," he said flatly. "But you can call me Saitama."

Genos's optical lens twitched. A hero… for fun? There was nothing about this man that matched his power level. No aura. No sense of threat. But the data was undeniable. He's real. And he just saved me.

Saitama—or rather, the man trapped in his body—gave one last glance at the wreckage before turning away.

"Anyway, I'll leave the rest to you. I've got… stuff to do."

Like figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life. But he didn't say that out loud.

He started walking down the road casually, arms hanging loose, steps light despite the cracked pavement beneath him. His thoughts raced even as his expression stayed calm.

Behind him, Genos remained standing still, like a statue, but before seeing him disappear around the corner, he called him.

"Hold on," Saitama turned himself, now seeing Genos from the front, "I-I am a lonely cyborg who seeks vengeance and I'd like to be your disciple."

Saitama smiled unconciously.

Hehe!

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