One Punch Man: I am Saitama

Kabuto's heavy steps boomed through the training chamber, accelerating with monstrous momentum as he prepared to strike. His breath came in

Kabuto's heavy steps boomed through the training chamber, accelerating with monstrous momentum as he prepared to strike. His breath came in growls, rage boiling in every muscle fiber. In less than a second, he had closed the distance—his horn gleaming, claws wide and ready to shred.

But just as he was about to cross the final few meters, something happened.

He froze.

Every primal instinct in his warped, overengineered body screamed STOP.

His feet skidded against the steel floor, leaving deep gashes as he halted himself mid-charge. Sparks erupted under his heels, and his chitin-clad body trembled—not with rage, but with something else.

Fear.

Carnage Kabuto's eyes widened, his mandibles twitching.

It wasn't logical. It wasn't planned. But something ancient in his core—the core that still understood danger on a fundamental level—was warning him to don't go any closer.

Because if he did, he wouldn't just lose.

He would die.

He staggered back, clawed feet digging in defensively. The air around Saitama felt heavy now, oppressive. Like he wasn't a man, but a force of nature that had just noticed him.

"Y-You… bastard!" Kabuto snarled, baring his teeth, every muscle in his arms coiled like springs ready to snap—but he didn't move forward. "What the hell are you?! How the hell did you get that strong?!"

Saitama blinked. "…Huh?"

Dr. Genus, still slumped on the ground, stared wide-eyed at the scene. He had witnessed Kabuto rip apart reinforced steel walls, crush experimental failures like paper, and fight tirelessly for hours. His strength was supposed to rival an entire military division.

And now, for the first time since his creation, Carnage Kabuto was… hesitating. No, worse—retreating.

"…Impossible," Genus whispered. "He's afraid. He's actually afraid."

This wasn't in any of the data. Kabuto had no record of fear—he was made without it.

And yet now, standing just meters from the bald, unimposing man in a plain hoodie and sweatpants, the apex predator was backing down.

Kabuto's claws shook as he tried to force himself forward again, but his body didn't obey. The pressure radiating from Saitama wasn't ki or aura—it was the certainity that he was just stronger. Stronger enough to kill him if he pleased.

Saitama looked relaxed. Calm. But that made it worse. That meant he wasn't even trying.

Kabuto bared his teeth again. "Tell me… what training did you do?! No one becomes this strong! Not like this!"

Saitama scratched his cheek, thinking on not wanting to say the truth because that will just make him madder. "Uhh… I dunno if you'd believe me even if I told you."

That only made Kabuto angrier. "YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!"

"No, but you're the one screaming in a panic while I'm just standing here."

Kabuto's mandibles clicked with rage, but his body still wouldn't move forward. Every time he tried, the warning bells in his head shrieked louder.

Death.

Death.

Certain death.

Saitama tilted his head. "You're not gonna attack? You charged in like you were ready to go."

Kabuto roared and smashed the wall beside him in frustration, cratering it completely—but even that didn't ease the tension in his limbs.

Genus slowly stood, watching the exchange with disbelief etched into his features. "Even Kabuto… Even he can sense it… He knows he can't win. How…? How did I not predict this?" His eyes snapped to Saitama, scanning him as if seeing him for the first time. "No enhancements. No implants. No mutations. Just… raw, perfected human biology. But that shouldn't be possible."

Carnage Kabuto snarled one last time and stomped backward, away from Saitama.

"You're a monster," he hissed. "A monster in human skin…"

Saitama simply shrugged. "You're not the first one to say that."

From the shadows of the blasted hallway, Genos watched with unreadable eyes. His hands, once poised in anticipation of a desperate battle, now dropped slowly to his sides. It hadn't even been a fight.

That monster lost the moment he saw sensei's eyes.

Genos had witnessed a great many battles. He had faced monstrous beings and powerful enemies, survived death more than once. But this… this was something beyond logic. Beyond systems and strength ratings. Kabuto was a nightmare incarnate—ruthless, unrelenting, and unstoppable. Yet in front of Saitama, he crumbled like dust in a storm.

My sensei… is awesome.

Meanwhile, Saitama—unlike the reverent awe consuming his disciple—was wrestling with a far more mundane concern.

Damn it. He's too scared to come at me. That means I'll have to be the one to close the distance... which means using the speed of this body at full throttle again.

He gave a resigned sigh and scratched the side of his head, lips tightening into a grimace.

I hope I don't end up wrecking the whole damn place.

And then, without another word, without so much as a ripple of warning, he moved.

The air cracked and the floor cratered as he started to move.

Saitama vanished from his spot in a blur of motion—breaking the sound barrier once, twice, five times in a matter of milliseconds. Kabuto barely had time to register the sudden shift in pressure before the bald figure was right in front of him, fist already drawn back.

The monster's instincts screamed at him to run. He tried.

But it was far too late.

Before even Dr Genus could blink, Saitama drove his right fist into Kabuto's abdomen. It didn't just strike—it obliterated. The impact tore through flesh, chitin, reinforced muscle and bone, collapsing Kabuto's organs like paper. The sheer kinetic energy of the punch created a chain reaction, vaporizing everything in its path.

In the blink of an eye, Carnage Kabuto's upper torso detonated in a catastrophic explosion of green blood, shards of armor, and shredded viscera. What was left of him—nothing more than a pair of twitching legs—flew backward and crashed into the reinforced concrete wall with a wet crunch, leaving a grotesque smear where the rest of him used to be.

The air returned to normal. Time seemed to resume its regular flow.

Saitama dusted off his gloves casually.

Behind him, Dr. Genus dropped to his knees, eyes wide in disbelieving horror. His strongest, most savage creation… the pinnacle of decades of evolution and experimentation… destroyed in less than a second. Not subdued. Not outmaneuvered.

Annihilated.

His thoughts reeled.

No… no, it can't be. That was the apex of my life's work. Years of research. Countless test subjects. The perfect warrior—Carnage Kabuto—gone in an instant. Defeated by… by a normal man?

Was it all… meaningless? A farce?

A shadow loomed over him. Dr. Genus froze, slowly raising his head.

Saitama stood in front of him, his face unreadable.

This is it, Genus thought. He's going to kill me. It's logical. I sent monsters to capture him. I tried to dissect him, study him like a specimen. It's only fair he ends my life now. At least… it'll be an honorable death. At the hands of the ultimate being.

But instead, the man just tilted his head.

"Hey. Get up," Saitama said, his voice neutral but not hostile.

Genus blinked.

"I'm not gonna kill you," Saitama continued, arms casually resting at his sides. "You're not a threat anymore. And frankly, I don't hold grudges."

Genus opened his mouth but no words came out.

Saitama took a breath and added, "Listen. I get it. You wanted to make people stronger. Evolve or whatever. But what if you used all that science crap to actually help people now? You've got brains—maybe it's time to start using them for the right reasons."

The doctor's eyes widened.

"You're giving me… a chance?"

Saitama gave a slight shrug. "Everyone deserves one. Just don't waste it."

At that moment, Genos stepped up beside him, eyes still burning with silent admiration.

"Sensei… are we done here?"

Saitama gave a small nod, turning his back to Dr. Genus. "Yeah. Let's head out. I'm hungry."

Without waiting for a reply, he glanced at the far wall of the ruined lab. Then, casually, he threw a punch at it—BOOM—blowing open a fresh exit in a single strike.

The dust settled.

Genos gave a final glance toward the stunned doctor, then followed his master through the hole, their footsteps echoing off the battered floor.

Left alone in the quiet devastation, Dr. Genus sat for a long while, his thoughts churning as he looked down at his trembling hands.

"I guess," he murmured, voice heavy with irony and awe, "that's how the House of Evolution ends."

(Saitama's Apartment, Z-City — Hours Later)

Steam rose gently from the ramen bowls on the low table, filling the small apartment with the savory aroma of pork broth, miso, and green onions. The sun had already set, and the dim light from a flickering ceiling bulb gave the cramped room a cozy—if slightly depressing—vibe.

Saitama sat cross-legged in his usual spot, chopsticks in hand, slurping noodles absentmindedly.

Across from him, Genos sat perfectly upright, a second bowl of ramen untouched in front of him. Not because he didn't want to eat, but because his cybernetic brain was too focused on the man in front of him to care.

"Sensei," Genos asked for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, "how did you become this strong?"

Saitama let the noodles slide out of his mouth with a sigh.

"You've been asking me that all evening."

"Because I still don't understand," Genos said, his golden eyes glowing faintly in the dim room. "You obliterated Carnage Kabuto with a single punch. Mosquito Girl, Beast King… all defeated effortlessly. Sometimes it seems to me that your power really is absolute."

Saitama leaned back slightly, resting one hand behind him on the tatami floor, the other still holding chopsticks.

"Yeah… I get that a lot."

Or at least Saitama did.

"I must know," Genos pressed, more intense now. "What was your training? How long did you train? Was it mental conditioning? Muscle density manipulation? Some sort of high-level spiritual focus?"

Saitama blinked, then looked away toward the window, chewing slowly. The moonlight crept through the broken blinds, casting quiet shadows on the walls.

Just a few days ago, he thought, I was a boring office drone. Alarm at seven. Coffee at eight. Reports at nine. Lunch with people I couldn't stand. Come home. Sleep. Repeat.

He glanced at Genos again—this overpowered murder machine full of drive and loyalty, staring at him like he was a living god.

Now I'm sitting here with a half-cyber teenager who calls me "master," after fighting beetle demons and punching a biomechanical gorilla through a mountain. In the world of my favorite manga, no less.

It was surreal. Unbelievable. And yet, the heat of the ramen bowl in his hands and the ache in his knuckles from that last punch told him it was all real.

"Do you think," Genos continued, voice low, "that I can reach your level? If I follow your teachings?"

Saitama set his bowl down and exhaled.

"I don't know, Genos," he replied honestly. "I don't know if anyone can. I didn't follow a plan or a formula. It just… happened."

Genos nodded slowly, but disappointment flickered in his expression.

"But," Saitama added quickly, "that doesn't mean you can't become stronger. I mean, you're already way beyond most people. Stronger than you were yesterday, right?"

"Yes, I suppose so…"

"Then just keep going. You're on the right track."

Genos bowed his head. "Thank you, sensei."

Saitama leaned back against the wall, gazing up at the ceiling, a small grin forming on his lips.

Yeah… this world is insane. But somehow, I'm getting the hang of it.

His eyes drifted to the tiny calendar on the fridge. He remembered what tomorrow was.

Tomorrow's Sunday. I wonder if Mizuki works out at the HQ on Sundays...

He suddenly sat up straighter, the thought making his heart skip a beat.

Come on man, you're literally the strongest thing on Earth right now. Stop freezing up when a pretty girl talks to you. You punched a goddamn beetle-man so hard his ribcage turned into salsa. You can ask a girl out.

He glanced at Genos, who was still finishing his ramen with intense mechanical precision.

Though maybe I should do it when he's not around. Kind of hard to flirt with a half-ton metal teenager watching like it's a tactical briefing.

Still, the thought of Mizuki's bright energy, that playful laugh, and the medals bouncing on her chest made his ears go warm.

Yeah. Tomorrow, I'll swing by HQ. Say something casual. "Hey, wanna get coffee?" or something. That's doable. Right?

He sighed, rubbing his face.

God, I really hope she likes bald guys.

Genos looked up suddenly. "Did you say something, sensei?"

Saitama shook his head. "Nope. Just thinking."

Genos nodded and returned to his bowl.