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I am Saitama - Chapter 14: The Femboy Ninja
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 04:02:07 +0000 UTCIt was a beautiful day in A-City.
The sun was shining with that soft golden glow that made everything look peaceful. Birds chirped cheerfully from telephone wires. Children ran through parks, laughing and playing, some chasing bubbles while others tugged along balloon strings. Vendors sold snacks on street corners, the scent of roasted chestnuts and fried dumplings in the air. It was the kind of day that made you forget for a moment that giant monsters and cyborg assassins existed.
Yep, it was all beautiful.
All except for one thing…
“Fuuuck—I’m going on a date with no money!! I’m an idiot!!”
BANG! Saitama slammed his bald head against the nearest wall. Not hard enough to break it—he didn’t want to get fined—but enough to rattle his skull a little.
“Come on, think, think, THINK!!” he muttered, pacing in circles like a man possessed. “I can’t take Mizuki out with pocket lint and coupons! What am I gonna do—pay cleaning the dishes?!”
But then… a light bulb flickered to life.
Maybe it was the self-inflicted trauma. Maybe it was divine pity. Or maybe, just maybe, desperation had unlocked the genius tier of dumb ideas.
“Hammerhead!!”
He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide.
Of course!!
He remembered the news report from earlier that morning. The Paradisers, a self-proclaimed "anti-work revolutionary" group, had gone on a rampage again—led by the brainless, bald, battlesuit-wearing idiot known as Hammerhead.
There was a bounty on his head. A decent one. More than enough to pay for a proper dinner, a taxi, maybe even a blazer that wasn’t 100% polyester.
“If I can capture him alive and turn him in to the Association or the police, I could make enough to cover the date… maybe even eat something besides instant ramen for once!”
Hope ignited in his chest like a campfire.
“Yes!! That’s what I’m gonna do!” he shouted triumphantly to absolutely no one, fists clenched in resolve.
Without wasting another second, he darted into the street, aiming for F-City.
Okay, I have to move fast. If Sonic shows up before me, he’s going to take Hammerhead out for fun, and I’ll lose the reward. I need to get there as fast as I can—without accidentally destroying five districts in the process.
So he ran.
His body blurred against the scenery, feet tapping across rooftops and power lines, weaving expertly between buildings like a bullet with GPS.
He passed A-City's outer walls within seconds, avoiding high-traffic zones and keeping his momentum low enough to avoid causing wind shockwaves. In a matter of minutes, he crossed into F-City’s urban sprawl, the taller buildings casting long shadows over the concrete streets.
He landed on a rooftop, scanning the area with narrowed eyes.
Let’s see… if I remember the manga right, Hammerhead and his idiots were targeting that rich guy Zeniru’s mansion…
He turned and spotted the familiar sight: a gaudy, overly opulent estate surrounded by security droids and fountains that sprayed water higher than a fire hydrant. It looked like the type of place that screamed, "Please rob me, I’m rich and tasteless!"
“Bingo,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles.
Down below, a group of bald men in identical black armored suits were marching like a troop towards the mansion.
“Ah right,” Saitama remembered, crouching low on the rooftop. “They stole those power suits from some research lab. Made them strong enough to tear down a building with a sneeze… or at least they think they can.”
He scanned the mob and immediately spotted the leader at the front. Hammerhead. Loud, violent, and just as obnoxiously bald as ever. His cybernetic combat suit covered his entire body except for all above the neck like a reinforced exoskeleton.
“We shall tear down the system!!” Hammerhead roared, lifting his index figer towards the mansion gates. “No more rich fat cats hoarding their wealth! We are Paradisers!! We work for equality!! No more jobs! No more excel!!”
The bald mob erupted into cheers, raising their fists. “NO MORE JOBS! NO MORE EXCEL!”
Saitama stared blankly from above.
“…These guys are even dumber in person.”
He sighed and hopped down quietly, landing behind them with a soft tap that no one noticed.
Meanwhile, the Paradisers started to fight some security droids that came from the mansion.
Hmmm, strange, I don’t remember any security droids on the manga, but I guess some details are changed on this world.
One of the Paradisers peeled off from the formation and bashed a security droid, sending its metal body skidding across the pavement.
“Yeah!! We’ve got the power now, boys! Nobody can stop us!!”
Saitama cleared his throat. “Hey.”
The entire group froze and slowly turned around. Twenty angry bald men stared at him like he was the guy who just walked into the wrong neighborhood.
“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” growled one of them, cracking his knuckles. “You part of the mansion’s security?”
“Nope,” Saitama said, casually adjusting his glove. “Just a guy trying to make rent.”
“Then get lost!” barked Hammerhead, stepping forward. “Unless you wanna be part of our revolution. You’re bald, too! You belong with us! The working man’s rebellion!”
“…I’m bald because I trained too hard,” Saitama muttered, completely deadpan.
“Huh?”
“And I don’t wanna live in a world where Excel don’t exist, it’s very useful dumbasses.”
Hammerhead’s expression turned sour. “Traitor.”
With a sudden yell, one of the Paradisers lunged forward, his reinforced suit throwing smoke as he threw a haymaker at Saitama’s face.
CLANG.
The man’s fist stopped instantly, knuckles flattened against Saitama’s unmoving cheek like he’d just tried punching a titanium wall.
“W-what the—?!” the man gasped.
Saitama’s expression didn’t change. “You guys really think stealing prototype suits makes you strong?”
And then—bam!!—a flick of his finger sent the attacker flying across the pavement like a skipping stone, smashing into a light post that bent on impact.
The mob took a collective step back.
“Y-You bastard!” yelled another, charging in with a pipe raised.
Three others followed, trying to overwhelm him. Saitama casually weaved between their attacks with the grace of someone walking past pigeons. Every time he moved, a punch landed, or more exact, one finger. Every time a finger landed, a Paradiser went down like a sack of bricks.
Within seconds, half of the group was groaning on the ground.
Hammerhead’s eye twitched.
“Okay, okay… not bad, baldy. But let’s see you handle me!” he shouted, activating the boosters on his suit. Sparks exploded behind him as he launched himself at Saitama like a missile, swinging a massive two-handed slam down at his head.
Saitama just stepped slightly to the side.
BOOM!
The shockwave from the punch shattered the pavement where he had stood. A nearby tree cracked in half from the force.
Hammerhead grinned, panting. “Hah… missed, huh?”
Saitama yawned. “Actually, I was just checking if your bounty’s still valid.”
“Wha—?”
With one smooth motion, Saitama reached out and karate-chopped the back of Hammerhead’s neck. The revolutionary’s eyes rolled back instantly, and his oversized body slumped to the ground with a thud.
The remaining Paradisers froze, completely paralyzed.
Saitama looked around at the unconscious bodies.
“Huh. That was easier than I thought.”
He pulled out his cheap flip phone and started dialing the Hero Association hotline.
“Yeah, hi. I’ve got the leader of the Paradisers and a few of his buddies knocked out in front of Zeniru’s mansion. Mind sending someone for the bounty payout? …Yes, alive. …No, I don’t need backup. …No, you don’t need to ask for my hero name, I don’t know it yet. Just mark it under Saitama. Yeah, the bald one.”
He hung up and looked around.
The chaos had settled and the security droids were already recovering.
Saitama stretched his shoulders with a groan. “Now… where was I?”
He grinned.
Right. Time to claim my bounty.
Just as he took a step toward the unconscious bodies of the Paradisers, something whistled through the air—a high-pitched slicing sound, like a kunai cutting through wind.
His body reacted before his brain even finished processing. In his perception, time slowed to a crawl. The object spun elegantly, flashing in the sunlight like a silver leaf dancing on a breeze. A ringed hilt, a curved razor-sharp edge, and a glint of murderous intent.
“Tch,” he muttered, catching it with two fingers. “Of course… I know who threw this crap.”
He turned his head slightly, his gaze scanning the treetops.
“Alright, ninja boy. Come out.”
A second later, the leaves above rustled, and a black blur dropped down from the branches, landing with feline grace. A shinobi figure now stood before him, perfectly balanced, poised to strike again at any moment.
Saitama blinked.
Huh. I thought it would be obvious he’s a dude, but now that I see him up close… I honestly don’t know.
The stranger was lean, agile, with delicate features and long black hair tied into a topknot. His bodysuit—a tight black ensemble with metal plates and a flowing purple scarf—left little to the imagination. His grayish-purple eyes were sharp, almost feminine, yet cold and calculating. Purple markings lined the skin beneath his eyes, giving him a permanent glare.
A moment of silence passed between them.
Then, like thunder, the ninja struck.
He moved like a bullet wrapped in lightning, flashing toward Saitama with a silent fury. The blade returned to his hand in a blur as he closed the distance in a blink, aiming directly at Saitama’s chest.
He’s fast, Saitama admitted, but not fast enough.
With zero effort, Saitama's hand rose and caught the blade mid-swing.
SNAP.
The katana cracked in half, its metal shrieking in protest before falling to the ground in useless pieces. The ninja jumped back several meters instantly, flipping twice in the air before landing on a tree branch with perfect form.
His wide eyes betrayed his shock.
“You caught my blade,” he said, voice low and dangerous…and masculine.
Ooohhh come on!! I expected Sonic could be a baddie on this universe, instead I actually got the same edgy and vengeful femboy, shit…oh well, he’s still cool, but a fem Sonic would still have been cool. Thought Saitama, his expression reamining unchanged.
“Yep.”
“Who are you?” the ninja asked, his gaze narrowing.
“Saitama.”
“Are you a hero?”
“I try to be.”
“Then how did you read my attack?”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, how did you read my attack?!”
The ninja’s voice rose with sudden intensity, his eyes burning with something between outrage and fascination. “I am a paid assassin. My name is Speed-o’-Sound Sonic. I hail from the village of the highest caliber ninjas, trained from childhood in stealth, speed, and lethality. My techniques are undetectable to the average man.”
Saitama scratched the back of his head. “Well… I’m not average, I guess?”
“This… I cannot allow.”
Yeah, Saitama thought with a sigh. He wants to fight. Of course he does. Great.
Sonic blurred again—this time faster, rage amplifying his motion—but before he could finish forming his next move, Saitama had already closed the gap.
With a flick.
Just a single flick of his index finger.
FWIP—CRACK!
Sonic’s forehead met Saitama’s finger, and his entire body went flying backward like a rocket had been launched from his face. He sailed through the air, arms flailing, until he crashed headfirst into a tree so hard it cracked down the middle. Bark exploded from the trunk as Sonic slumped to the ground, unconscious.
Saitama stood there with his hand still raised.
“Geez,” he muttered. “At least the bug guy from yesterday lasted longer.”
He walked over and glanced at Sonic’s body.
“Wonder if the Association has a bounty on him… He did say he’s a paid killer.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed the Hero Association hotline again, already imagining the annoyed sigh of the operator on the other end.
“…Yeah, it’s me again. I know, I know. Listen, I’ve got another guy here. Name’s Sonic, something-something. Wears a scarf, pretty ninja-looking. Might be a criminal. You got a bounty on him?”
As the operator looked into it, Saitama leaned against the tree casually.
Man… What a week. I go from depressed salaryman to bounty-collecting hero in a few days. Now I’m taking out criminals for date money. What even is my life right now?
He smiled faintly.
Still… I kind of like it.
