One Punch Man in Baki's World

Tokyo – Kozue's Apartment, Dawn

The morning was quiet.

A warm breeze drifted through the open window as Kozue stirred in her bed, the soft hum of cicadas filling the silence. Her eyes blinked open slowly—but something felt off. The air was too still.

She turned her head.

Baki sat at her desk, shirtless, hunched over a notebook. His knuckles were scabbed, his body sore from the brutal battle with Yanagi the night before. Yet it wasn't pain that clouded his face.

It was confusion.

"I won," he muttered, not realizing she'd woken. "But why do I feel so hollow?"

Kozue sat up gently. "Because you're not fighting yourself anymore."

Baki turned, startled. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't," she said softly, pulling the blanket around her. "I just… knew you'd be sitting there."

She walked over to him, kneeling by his side. His hand trembled slightly as she touched it.

"You're changing," she whispered. "I can see it."

"I'm confused," Baki replied, voice raw. "That man… Saitama. I felt it when he walked past. He wasn't looking at anyone. He wasn't curious, or arrogant, or hostile. But the air… it bent around him."

He looked into her eyes.

"I've trained my entire life. Mastered ancient martial arts. Fought monsters. But he… he fights like he's forgotten what fighting even is."

Kozue listened.

"There's no hatred. No fire. He just exists—and that's enough to win."

She rested her head against his chest.

"You're not broken, Baki. You've just hit the ceiling of strength built on pain and survival. What you need now... is something else."

Baki stared out the window.

"…Love?"

Kozue didn't speak.

She didn't need to.

Elsewhere – Abandoned Hospital, Meguro District

Yanagi coughed blood into a rusty sink. His face was bruised, and one arm was dislocated.

He grinned anyway.

"He's gotten better," he wheezed. "More dangerous."

The door creaked open. A figure stood in the shadows, arms folded. Only the lower half of his face could be seen beneath the hood.

"You disappointed me," the voice said, smooth but cold.

Yanagi's smile faded. "Kurozuchi…"

"I watched your every move. You let your ego poison your technique."

Yanagi spat. "You know nothing of the Vacuum Palm. Nothing of the pain I inflict."

Kurozuchi stepped forward. "I know weakness when I see it."

A flash of motion. Yanagi's dislocated shoulder was suddenly back in place—painfully. He gasped.

Kurozuchi turned. "Heal. Vanish. Your time is done."

He walked away into the dark hallway.

"Mine is just beginning."

Orochi Dojo – That Evening

The moon glowed softly above the training yard. Saitama sat cross-legged near the pond, eating takoyaki from a plastic tray.

Katsumi approached, still bruised but walking steadily.

"I saw Baki earlier," he said.

Saitama glanced over. "Still shaking?"

"Not his fists," Katsumi replied. "His heart."

Saitama took another bite. "That's the hardest thing to strengthen."

Doppo entered from the back, holding a letter. "It's from Oliva. He's checked into a hotel. Says some work came in and he'll be visiting tomorrow."

Saitama blinked. "Okay."

"He's not the only one watching you now," Retsu added, stepping into the light. "Word of your strength has spread."

Saitama sighed. "Why do I feel like I just started a fan club for psychopaths?"

Baki's Apartment – That Night

Kozue lit incense in the corner of the room. Baki sat on the floor, back resting against the bed. He stared at her—not lustfully, but with genuine wonder.

"You're not just a girl I protect," he said. "You're the reason I need to protect something."

Kozue turned.

"You say that," she replied, walking to him, "but you still hold back."

Baki's hands trembled slightly.

"I'm scared," he admitted. "Of losing myself. Of becoming like him."

She sat in his lap.

"You won't," she whispered. "But if you want to find that next level, Baki—you need to stop training like a warrior."

She leaned in.

"And start living like a man."

Their lips met, and for the first time in days, Baki's fists unclenched.

But then—

A presence.

Heavy. Unmistakable.

The door creaked open before either of them could react.

A figure filled the frame.

Yujiro Hanma.

Shirtless. Smiling. Silent.

Baki and Kozue froze like prey beneath a lion's gaze.

Yujiro stepped into the room slowly, arms folded behind his back like a teacher entering a classroom.

"Ah," he said, voice calm and terrifying. "So it finally happens. The boy becomes a man."

Kozue grabbed the blanket instinctively, wrapping it around herself.

Baki stood. Half-dressed. Breathing controlled, but his eyes wide.

Yujiro's smile widened. "No need to panic. You've already taken the leap. You're no longer a cub, Baki. You're closer to me now."

Kozue spoke up, trembling. "Why are you here?"

Yujiro looked at her—unblinking, not unkind, but wholly inhuman.

"I wanted to see the moment," he said. "Because once a man experiences this… the way he fights, the way he lives, it changes forever."

He turned to Baki.

"You'll never fight with the same hunger again. And that's a good thing."

Then, without another word, he left.

No fanfare. No threat.

Only a door closing behind the world's strongest creature.

Baki stared at it long after he was gone.

Kozue whispered, "Are you okay?"

He sat back down. "I think… I finally understand why he's so feared."

[You guys are lucky, the following training scene is already animated and available.]

Somewhere Beneath Tokyo – Kurozuchi's Chamber

The chamber buzzed with movement. Fighters from all over the underworld arrived one by one—mercenaries, ex-dojo masters, rejected Sea King disciples. All stood before Kurozuchi in silence.

He lifted a remote.

The screen flickered on.

It showed a still image: Saitama, staring up at the sky with a bored expression.

"This is the future," Kurozuchi said. "He is what happens when strength evolves without purpose."

He turned to them.

"Our goal is not to defeat him. It is to remind the world what real martial arts once meant—through destruction, chaos, and legacy."

He pointed to another image: Jack Hanma.

"Our first test subject. The body of a god. The mind of a beast. Let's see if he still remembers pain."

He smiled.

And the war began.

Yokohama Docks – Midnight

The fog rolled in thick and low, muffling the sounds of the waves slapping against cold concrete. Cranes stood like skeletal titans in the dark, unmoving, creaking with the weight of sleep.

Jack Hanma walked barefoot.

His massive frame glistened under the moonlight, breath visible in the cold night air. His jaw clenched rhythmically, the leftover taste of blood still fresh on his tongue from a previous brawl. He didn't come here for peace.

He came to feel anything again.

Then he heard it.

A clap. Slow. Sharp. Deliberate.

Jack stopped.

From the shadows stepped a figure in a black combat gi. His hair was tied behind his back, and across his face ran a thin scar beneath his eye, recent and not yet fully healed.

Kurozuchi.

"You really are an animal," he said softly. "Your body doesn't belong to this era. But your mind? It's rotting."

"I let my guard down earlier," Jack tilted his head, unimpressed. "Not this time, however. You're here to die?"

Kurozuchi smiled. "No. I'm here to remind you of pain."

Before Jack could respond, three masked fighters appeared around him from the crates and shadows—former Sea King combatants, sharpened by hate, driven by rejection.

Jack cracked his neck. "A party?"

They didn't answer.

They attacked.

The first charged, blade flashing in a direct strike. Jack caught the man's wrist and twisted. Snap. The scream was muffled by a knee crashing into the attacker's face.

The second fighter launched a flurry of spinning kicks—fast, precise, professional.

Jack didn't block.

He endured.

Let the hits land. Chest. Ribs. Thigh. Until the fighter gasped, stunned that Jack had not even moved.

Then, boom—a thunderous punch caved in his abdomen, lifting him off his feet.

The third hesitated.

Jack turned to him, lips curled.

"Don't worry. I'll make it quick."

But Kurozuchi moved first. In a blur, he appeared behind Jack and delivered a palm strike to the back of his neck. It landed.

Jack staggered, actually staggered.

His knees dipped slightly before correcting. His hand reached to touch the impact spot.

"You hit me."

Kurozuchi stepped back. "How do you think Yanagi defeated you? I studied you. Every fight. Every weakness. You act like a beast, but you still think like a man. I just reset the base of your spine."

Jack snarled. "And I'll snap yours."

The real fight began.

Kurozuchi moved with an elegance foreign to Jack, like water with intent. Every blow was delivered with surgical precision. Jack countered with brute force, walls of strikes that broke the air.

Concrete shattered beneath their feet.

A steel crate crumpled as Jack slammed Kurozuchi into it. Blood hit the rusted floor.

But Kurozuchi grinned through the blood. "That's it… That's what I wanted to see. The Hanma blood. The monster that even Yujiro ignores."

Jack's eyes widened for a split second. Then narrowed.

"You know nothing about my father."

"I know enough," Kurozuchi spat. "He's watching too. Just like me. Waiting to see if you break. And trust me…"

He leapt again, his Vacuum Palm slamming Jack into the side of a shipping container. "I will break you."

Jack coughed up blood.

But he stood.

And roared.

TO BE CONTINUED...