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I am Saitama - Chapter 22: Meteor Aftermath
🕑 Added 2025-07-27 04:15:54 +0000 UTCAfter the remaining pieces of the meteorite were destroyed by Genos and Bang, the sky finally cleared. Smoke trailed off into the distance like a curtain being drawn back to reveal the sun again. The city below stood in stunned silence, shaken but intact.
Saitama landed first, his bald head catching the sunlight as casually as if he had just stepped off a curb. Genos soon descended beside him, steam hissing from his arms, while Bang caught up a moment later, dusting rubble from his sleeve.
They barely had time to exchange glances before the rumble of footsteps approached like a second wave of disaster.
“THERE THEY ARE!!”
“GET THE CAMERA ON THEM!”
“ZOOM IN ON THE BALD GUY, HE’S THE ONE WHO PUNCHED IT!!”
A stampede of reporters, camera crews, and drones came rushing from all sides. Microphones were shoved forward like weapons, the blinking red lights of news feeds blinking as fast as the chaos they were trying to capture.
“One Punch Man! One Punch Man!!” one reporter cried, shoving his way to the front. “Can you confirm you were the one who destroyed the meteorite?!”
“What kind of technique did you use to shatter something that size? Was it energy-based? Ki? A new scientific advancement?”
“How long have you been planning this countermeasure? Were you working with the Hero Association directly?”
“Why did the Association not alert the citizens sooner? Were you aware of their delay?”
“Where did you and Demon Cyborg come from?! You were both unknown until very recently, and now you're in Class S?! Can you explain the sudden promotion?”
A female journalist pushed her mic toward Bang. “Silver Fang, you’ve always been known for restraint. What made you join in today’s battle?”
But the attention quickly swiveled back to Saitama, who blinked slowly and scratched the back of his head.
“Uhh… I just jumped and punched it,” he said, internally he was very nervous, he never was good talking in public on his other life, and now with all the microphones trying to shove into his face, It was twice as difficult for him to express himself.
The reporters froze, unsure if he was joking.
“Wait—are you saying you punched it... physically?” asked a young cameraman, bewildered. “With no weapons? No suit? No calculations of any type?”
Saitama stared blankly. “Yup.”
More murmuring followed after his confirmation. One woman even gasped. Saitama heard that a man actually laughed, probably thinking it had to be a joke of some kind.
Genos, ever loyal, stepped forward. “Please understand. My master, Saitama, possesses strength beyond comprehension. What he did today may seem impossible, but it is pretty normal for him to do. And without him, the city would have been annihilated.”
This only added fuel to the fire.
“Demon Cyborg, how long have you trained under him?”
“Is One Punch Man stronger than Silver Fang?”
“Is this the new face of Class S?”
“Are you aware that you’ve just saved over six million lives?”
“Will the Hero Association promote you again after this?”
“Silver Fang, can you confirm this man’s strength? Is he truly stronger than you?”
Bang stepped forward, arms crossed, face calm. “Stronger than me? Hmph… He’s stronger than most of the S-Class. What he did today isn’t something I—or anyone I know—could’ve pulled off. If he hadn’t acted first, this would’ve been a graveyard.”
That stunned the reporters for a moment.
Saitama frowned, looking genuinely uncomfortable. “Uh… we just did what needed to be done, you know? No big deal.”
“No big deal?!” someone blurted.
More questions kept flying.
“What will you do next, mister One Punch?”
“Are you going to take a more active role in disasters like this?”
“Are you aware you just prevented a potential extinction-level event?”
Saitama looked around at the horde and muttered under his breath, “I just wanna get home and call my girlfriend…”
“Wait, what did you say?” shouted a reporter, leaning in.
“Nothing.”
Meanwhile, drones hovered above, broadcasting the scene live across the country. People everywhere were watching, stunned by the bald man with the bored eyes who had saved them all without so much as a scratch.
Bang gave a faint smile, seeing the expressions of awe forming on the faces of the reporters.
Let them talk. The people deserve to know. And this man deserves the recognition—even if he doesn’t want it. He is what a true hero looks like.
Genos, standing tall beside his master, nodded once.
In his heart, one truth rang louder than all the questions:
Sensei saved the city. And now… everyone is beginning to see it.
BRUM! BRUM!
The moment of recognition was short-lived. The quiet hum of awe was suddenly drowned out by the thunder of engines as several armored vehicles belonging to the Hero Association rolled onto the scene, tires grinding over broken asphalt. Their dark metallic sheen glinted beneath the sunlight, each vehicle bearing the bold insignia of the Association.
One of the lead trucks came to a screeching halt right beside the heroes and the remaining crowd of reporters. The side doors burst open in perfect synchronicity.
From within, several figures emerged in disciplined formation, dressed head-to-toe in tactical gear resembling elite S.W.A.T. forces. Black visors covered their eyes, each uniform marked with a Hero Association badge on the right arm—silver and gold against matte black.
Without a word, the unit deployed in practiced rhythm. Riot shields slammed into the ground with dull metallic thuds, forming a barrier between the heroes and the ever-curious crowd. Commands were barked in clipped tones:
“This is now a restricted area. Step away, please!”
“Come on, clear the zone! Let the heroes breathe!”
“If you have more questions, they will be addressed in a formal briefing later!”
The journalists groaned and objected, some still trying to aim mics and cameras around the shields.
“You can’t just block the press!” one shouted.
“Is this even legal?!”
“People have the right to know!”
The troopers didn’t flinch. One stern look from their commanding officer, and those who kept protesting were quickly pushed back, politely but firmly. A few grumbled under their breath. Others, realizing there was no way through, turned and stormed off—one even throwing his press badge to the ground in frustration.
Saitama stood with arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a slightly raised eyebrow.
Isn’t this a little too much for a bunch of hacks with microphones? he thought. You’d think they were storming a hostage situation, not filming a bald guy in a cape.
As the last of the journalists were corralled and escorted past the barricades, the final figure exited the lead vehicle—calm, composed, and noticeably different from the troopers.
Jinzuren.
The sharp-eyed executive of the Hero Association stepped down with poise, his suit perfectly uncreased despite the bumpy ride. A faint wind lifted the edges of his long coat. He paused for a moment, adjusting his sleek glasses as he scanned the chaos left behind by the meteor—and then his gaze found them.
There they were: Genos still venting heat from his arms, Bang standing silent and with a slight hunch on his back, like always—and in the center, Saitama.
The serious expression on Jinzuren’s face melted instantly into a warm, calculated smile.
“Mister Saitama,” he called out as he approached, his polished shoes tapping across cracked pavement, “a pleasure to meet you again.”
Saitama returned the greeting with a small grin. “Hey, Jinzuren.”
It sounded friendly enough on the surface, but inside, Saitama’s thoughts were more direct—and far less polite.
Why the hell did it take so long for you guys to sound the alarm? That thing was practically in the atmosphere by the time anyone said a word…
He didn’t ask the question aloud—at least not yet. But the look in his eyes had a subtle sharpness to it, the kind Genos recognized immediately.
Jinzuren’s smile didn’t waver, but his pace slowed just slightly as he approached, as if sensing the unspoken tension. Still, ever the diplomat, he extended a hand with smooth confidence.
“I must say, that was an impressive display, Mister Saitama. The Association owes you a debt. Had you not acted… we might be counting bodies instead of blessings.”
Bang’s eyes narrowed just a touch, but he said nothing.
Genos stood tall, gaze firm. “Sensei acted with unmatched precision and speed. The meteor was destroyed in one blow.”
“Yes, we saw,” Jinzuren said, giving the cyborg a nod. “The footage is already circulating. People are calling it a miracle.”
Saitama rubbed the back of his neck, not entirely sure what to say to that.
But something still gnawed at him.
There was something else still bothering him. So, he lowered his hand and looked Jinzuren in the eyes.
“Why did it take so long to warn the city?” he asked, voice calm, but with a quiet weight behind it. “People were still working, going about their day like nothing was coming. You only started making noise when it was practically falling from the sky.”
The smile on Jinzuren’s face flickered—only slightly—but it was there. A faint shift, like the momentary crack in a mask.
He adjusted his glasses with his middle finger. “There was a miscalculation from the Hero Association’s astrophysics division,” he said smoothly. “The data indicated that the meteor would miss Earth entirely. By the time the error was detected… we had mere minutes.”
“And those people are fired now,” he added quickly, before Saitama could speak again. “Immediately dismissed. Replaced. Rest assured, the Association won’t tolerate such negligence again.”
But Saitama’s expression didn’t change.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Jinzuren blinked.
“You evacuated the employees of the Hero Association branch here,” Saitama continued, his voice still even, but his eyes sharper now. “You moved them out right before the alert was made public. But not the civilians. Why?”
For a moment, there was only the sound of the cooling wind blowing over cracked pavement and fallen debris.
Genos remained silent beside his master, his robotic eyes faintly narrowing.
Bang crossed his arms, his mouth a thin line, saying nothing—but his presence felt heavier now. His dojo, his home… They had been in danger too. And he had noticed the same pattern.
Jinzuren inhaled slowly, lips pressed together.
“That evacuation was a precaution,” he finally said. “We received a Level Three internal risk flag for the Z-City branch—standard protocol is to evacuate Hero Association assets first to preserve operational integrity.”
Saitama tilted his head slightly. “So… your protocol is to save your employees before warning the people living here?”
The executive raised his hand, defensive now. “That’s not what I meant. It’s about structure. There is a chain of command after all. In emergencies, we move those who can help coordinate rescue efforts first—”
“There wasn’t going to be a rescue effort,” Saitama interrupted. “There wasn’t time. You knew that. But you moved your staff anyway.”
Jinzuren looked around, as if hoping one of the others would speak in his defense. But Genos remained still, eyes locked on him like twin lenses of judgment. Bang didn’t move either.
Saitama took a step closer.
“I don’t want anyone fired,” he said. “I don’t care about scapegoats or spin. I just want the truth. If you’re supposed to protect people… then protect them. Not your image.”
There was no threat in his voice. No anger. Just quiet disappointment.
That, somehow, seemed heavier than yelling.
Jinzuren didn’t answer right away.
He just nodded slowly, adjusting his glasses again, though this time the gesture lacked its usual polished confidence.
“I… understand,” he finally said. “I’ll make sure the Association reviews the protocols. You have my word.”
Saitama didn’t nod, nor smile.
He just turned his back on the executive and glanced out at the broken skyline—ruined in places, but still standing. His cape fluttered gently in the breeze, his silhouette cast long by the afternoon sun.
Genos silently stepped beside him, like waiting for him to move, so he could follow.
But just before the two walked away, Saitama paused.
Without looking back, he spoke—calm, flat, but with unmistakable finality in his tone.
“If the Association ever pulls that kind of bullshit again… I’m done. I’ll resign. And I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly why.”
Then, without waiting for a response, Saitama continued walking down the fractured street, Genos following close behind.
Jinzuren remained rooted in place, his polished executive demeanor shaken, the promise of control slipping like dust between his fingers.
Bang, still standing nearby, let out a long sigh and crossed his arms.
“Kids these days…” he muttered, though there was something like a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “They don’t waste time with politics.”
He watched the two figures grow smaller in the distance—one bald, one burning with energy—until they disappeared into the light of the setting sun.
