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I am Saitama - Chapter 23: The Deep Sea Invasion (Part 1)
🕑 Added 2025-07-29 04:25:02 +0000 UTC“Come on, Saitama, we gotta go faster!!” shouted Mizuki, yanking his arm as they pushed through the crowded street.
“Why so much hurry?” he asked, more confused than concerned, his feet dragging behind hers like a bored teenager on a field trip.
“Because the supplement store is gonna close in twenty minutes, and I don’t want you to be recognized one more ti—”
“Hey, that’s One Punch Man! Can you take a picture with me?!” came a voice from the crowd, followed by a swarm of footsteps.
“Damn it!!” Mizuki groaned, throwing her head back while Saitama gave a tired shrug and stopped in place, holding up a peace sign as the stranger took a quick selfie with him, completely unfazed by the attention.
It was the thirtieth time that day. And counting.
Since the meteor incident, Saitama's popularity had shot through the stratosphere like a comet. Social media had exploded. News networks ran endless loops of amateur footage showing the single devastating punch that shattered a city-killer meteor into fragments. The phrase "One Punch saves Z-City!” had been trending for three straight days. People had flooded the Association with thank-you letters, chocolates, flowers, home-cooked meals, and even handmade scarves.
One guy sent a handmade statue made entirely of bottle caps. Another offered him an apartment for free—though the rent would kick in after six months.
Saitama didn't quite know how to react. Or what to do with the statue. It was currently sitting in his bathtub.
And then came the business vultures. Marketing emails, product deals, talk show invitations. One message had even offered him a line of One Punch Man protein bars.
I still don’t know how they got my email... he thought while trudging along with Mizuki. Or my apartment number... Or my favorite udon brand...
The hero sighed as another couple waved excitedly from across the street.
A kid squealed, “It’s really him! It’s really him!” tugging at his mom’s arm in an attempt to cross the road.
Mizuki glanced at her watch for the third time in the last minute, clearly irritated. She wore her usual training tank top with a dark athletic jacket thrown over it, along with a pair of joggers customized with her name running down one leg. Her worn-in sneakers—built for sprints and sudden pivots—tapped impatiently against the sidewalk.
“This was supposed to be a quiet day,” she muttered under her breath, shooting a glare at a man awkwardly trying to film them from behind a mailbox.
Saitama didn’t even flinch at the attention.
“You sure the supplement shop’s worth all this?” he asked, one brow raised lazily.
He looked completely casual in his new outfit—a plain white hoodie with a T-shirt of the same colour below it and a pair of loose-fitting pants. Nothing flashy. Just functional.
But on his feet were a different story: a pair of custom shoes developed by the Hero Association’s tech division, reinforced to withstand the extreme friction and pressure of his high-speed movement.
Most S-Class heroes didn’t even bother with them—too bulky, too unnecessary, too “unfashionable.”
But Saitama? He didn’t care. They worked.
And honestly, they were the only thing keeping his toes from catching fire whenever he moved faster than sound.
She rolled her eyes. “Yes. It’s the only place that sells the strawberry-flavored creatine that doesn’t taste like drywall. And I’ve been out for a week.”
“Strawberry?” Saitama blinked. “That’s... oddly specific.”
“It’s the best one!” she replied, half yelling through the growing crowd. “Besides, I thought you wanted to hang out today!”
“I did,” he admitted, scratching his cheek. “But I thought we were gonna grab food or go watch a movie. Y’know, normal date stuff.”
Mizuki slowed down and turned toward him with a sheepish smile. “I know, but I figured we could swing by the shop first. Then it’d be your turn to pick.”
“That’s a weird order for a date,” he said.
“I’m a weird girl.”
Before he could answer, a trio of teenagers approached with notebooks and pens.
“Can we get your autograph, Mr. One Punch?”
“Damn it!!” Mizuki said again, louder this time, actually scaring the kids back a few steps. “Do you people want a signature or do you want a heart attack from him trying to punch through this many fans?!”
Saitama raised a finger. “That’s not how my power works.”
“I know that!!” she snapped.
The kids fled, and Mizuki groaned once more.
“Let’s just take the back alley. Maybe we can cut through the ramen shop and loop around to the store.”
Saitama followed with a shrug. “Fine by me. But if we get jumped by a protein-powder cartel, I’m out.”
They both slipped through a narrow side street, stepping over old soda cans and discarded flyers.
It was quiet for a moment. No cameras. No cheering crowds. Just the scent of fried noodles wafting from a nearby window.
Mizuki slowed her pace and looked back at him.
“Hey... thanks for coming today. Even with all the attention. I know it’s a pain.”
Saitama gave her a lopsided smile. “It’s fine. Honestly… it’s kinda nice. Y’know, having someone who doesn’t want to take a photo just to post it online.”
Mizuki chuckled and bumped his shoulder with hers. “Well, I still might post a picture. But only if we both look cool in it.”
Saitama rolled his eyes. “No promises.”
They continued walking through the alley, away from the flash of cameras and the chaos of downtown. For a moment, just a small one, the world felt quiet again.
At least until Mizuki’s eyes lit up. “Wait! The shortcut worked! The supplement shop’s just around the corner!”
And she took off running, dragging Saitama by the wrist once more.
“Wait—what’s creatine even for anyway?!”
“Muscles!! Now shut up and move your feet!!”
BOOM!!
The sound of an explosion made them stop in their tracks and turn their heads toward the source.
There, a few blocks away, stood an abomination—an octopus-headed humanoid, its limbs webbed and dripping, its movements erratic as it thrashed through the street. Its long, finned arms smashed windows, flipped cars, and sent terrified pedestrians fleeing in every direction.
“Unless you want to die, listen carefully, humans!!” the creature bellowed, its voice gurgling like something trying to speak underwater. “We are messengers of the Deep Sea King!! Surrender Earth to us, the sea people—and then, offer yourselves as food!!”
With one swift kick, it sent a parked car flying into the side of a building. Glass rained down. People screamed. The chaos was real.
Shit, it finally came—the day I’ve been dreading, thought Saitama, his lips tightening into a thin, serious line. The Deep Sea King arc… and unlike the original history, I’m gonna face him early. Before he has the chance to hurt anyone.
“Saitama, what do we do?” asked Mizuki, her stance alert beside him, eyes focused on the monster.
Even amid the panic, she was looking at him—not scared, but waiting for his lead. Respecting his rank. Trusting his strength.
“I’ll take that thing down before it kills someone,” he said simply, already crouching slightly.
“Ok, I follow you!” she said immediately, clenching her fists, her usual fire lit in her gaze.
“No,” he replied, turning to face her with seriousness. “I need you to help the civilians. Escort as many as you can to the nearest Association shelter.”
She blinked, surprised for only a moment. Then, to his shock, she just nodded.
“You got it!” she replied, already turning toward the screaming crowd.
Saitama stared for a second as she dashed into the chaos, helping an old woman stand, guiding a panicked child by the hand.
Wow... I thought she was gonna hesitate or argue. I was fully bracing for some cliché conflict moment. I’m glad this isn’t one of those cheap shows where the romantic interest causes more trouble than the villain with their ego. She’s really something else.
He smiled faintly as he saw her carry a crying girl while waving others toward an alley.
Then his face hardened.
Time to work.
In a flash, he bent his knees, flexing slightly—and launched himself in a smooth, arcing parabola through the air. The monster turned, its fish-like eyes locking onto him mid-air, but it was already too late.
Saitama’s fist extended—
SPLAT!
The punch didn’t just land—it erased. His hand went straight through the octopus-skull, splattering blue, gooey matter in every direction. The creature’s massive body fell like a sack of wet cement.
He landed with a thud, sliding a few feet along the ground. Silence followed—except for the distant sound of alarms and running feet.
Then he looked down.
“…Gross,” he muttered.
His once-clean hoodie was now soaked in monster blood and—what he really hoped wasn’t brain chunks—oozing off him in globs.
Ugh! I swear I’ll never get used to this part. No matter how many times I read it in the manga or saw it in the anime, they never really portrayed just how nasty it is to be bathed in monster goo.
He tried shaking some off, with little success. A particularly squishy bit clung to his wrist like a slug.
“Ughhh... dammit.”
Behind him, people began to peek out from behind overturned cars and shattered windows. Murmurs of awe turned to cautious cheers.
“He… he killed it!!”
“That was One Punch Man, right? S-Class!”
“Yeah, the bald guy! The one who stopped the Z-City meteor!”
“Holy crap, I didn’t think he’d actually show up!”
“We are saved!!”
Some started clapping. Others pulled out phones, recording him from a safe distance, whispering excitedly.
Saitama barely paid attention.
That was just the start… he thought grimly as he looked past the creature’s twitching corpse.
Further down the street, more shapes were emerging from alleyways and sewers—scaly figures dragging strange weapons, eyes glinting in the fading light. Sea People.
The Deep Sea King’s forces were already moving inland.
Here we go…
He turned his head once toward the crowd. Mizuki was still helping stragglers into a corner shelter, waving people inside, keeping things calm. He let out a breath of relief. She was handling it well.
But he didn’t have time to wait for her.
If this plays out like before, they’re headed straight for the center of the city from the coast. And the Deep Sea King…
Saitama frowned.
He’s not the problem. I could one-shot him like any other oversized fish stick. But his army, the chaos they’ll cause while I’m not there… civilians, low-tier heroes…
He clenched his fists. The thought of people getting killed just because he was late twisted something in his gut.
I will not let them hurt anybody this time, I need to stop him no matter the cost, as I am not sure if everything is going to go according to the original story here.
He launched forward with a sharp step, the cracked pavement exploding beneath his heel as he blitzed toward the next target—one of the merman grunts slithering toward a storefront.
The creature didn’t even have time to react.
CRACK!
A single jab caved in its chest, and the body went flying through a nearby wall like a ragdoll.
Saitama didn’t stop. Another turned with a spear raised—he swatted it aside like it was a twig and dropkicked the attacker into a bus.
More were pouring in now—half a dozen, maybe more, scattered down the streets and rooftops. He didn’t need to think.
Each step was precise. Each strike, fatal.
Within seconds, the asphalt was littered with unconscious or splattered enemies, and the air reeked of salt, blood, and ozone.
He landed atop a crushed van, scanning the skyline. His eyes narrowed.
Still too slow. The King must be close. If he makes landfall, it won’t matter if I punch him out in one second—he’ll already have wrecked half the city by then.
He leapt off the van in a burst of force, flipping through the air and landing smoothly on a nearby rooftop.
Time to make his way to the coast.
No detours, or speeches. Just find the fish and flatten him.
And with that, he vanished over the next rooftop, a blur of motion moving toward the sea—before the tide could drown anyone else.
Comments
StoryMasterKick
They were hidden by patreon, I will have to publish them again sorry
Nigg_216
Why are some chapters missing...
