Day 3 of Fubuki's punishment:
—Case of the Class B villain: resolved! Now, on to the next one! —I said with determination, my voice resonating with the force of someone who knows no rest.
A gust of wind, born from my constant training, shattered a stone beam at my side as I continued, without taking my eyes off the documents spread across the desk. I reviewed with surgical precision patrol reports, coordination proposals and interviews related to the Heroes Association, updated budgets for the Blizzard Group and the performance evaluations of each one of my subordinates. Everything had to be in order, everything had to improve.
A leader's work was not only to fight in the field — it was to direct with vision. The safety of the different cities I protected depended on me keeping my team strong, disciplined and with the necessary resources. Every signature on a piece of paper represented hours of training, every patrol strategy could make the difference between saving a life or arriving too late. I learned this by living with my… Damn it!
Another object shattered around me, this time a statue.
—Ms… Mrs. Fubuki… are you alright? —asked Lily, my most loyal subordinate, peering timidly through the door, accompanied by the rest of the group. They were all looking at me with concern too.
A single serious glance from me sent them retreating immediately. I didn't need mediocre compassion, I didn't need doubts. My Darling had scolded me for letting myself be dragged into childishness, and he was right. I'm not like my older sister, I can't afford to lose control. I am the leader of the Blizzard Group, a Class A heroine, the best in that category, and I do not allow myself to fall. My duty is to prove through deeds that I am equal to every responsibility I carry on my shoulders. This world needs a heroine who doesn't waver, who inspires respect, beauty and confidence. That is me.
After reflecting seriously, I understood my mistake. And now… I'm much better.
(Narrator: In reality… she cried for an entire day in the fetal position on a sofa, lamenting as if it were the end of the world. That same night, one of her subordinates, already worried about her, tried to bring her a cup of tea. The result? She rejected it in style: she drank twenty cups of strong coffee and plunged into a work frenzy. She hasn't slept at all. She despises the pity of someone weak…)
But anyway… I have to keep going with this. I'll focus on my work for these ten days and then…
—Mrs. Fubuki, you've gone three days without sleeping, I've had enough!! —Lily shouted, startling me out of my concentration—. Mrs. Fubuki, you need to leave this office. I know the work is important for the organization and that you're like this because of the incident with Mr. Saitama, but you also have to relax, go out and patrol the city, and most importantly, sle…
—You're right! —I exclaimed immediately, getting to my feet with energy. Looking impeccable as always—. Let's go on patrol. I need to show my contribution as a heroine, not just through documents and strategies, but through real action in the streets.
—But Mrs.! You haven't slept in three days, you should…
—Who said I haven't slept? —I cut in firmly.
—Huh?… but I've seen you working nonstop, as if you haven't rested at all, Mrs…
—Lily, listen carefully. Espers — or rather, I — have the capacity to selectively rest parts of our brain while another remains active in autonomous tasks. It may sound unusual, but it isn't negligence: it's efficiency. While my body works, part of my mind recovers. I have perfected this method so as not to waste time either physically or mentally. With my telekinetic control I can manage water, clean myself, dry myself and get ready without interrupting my work. That way I stay ready at all times, regardless of fatigue. Even destroying furniture during my practice sessions allows me to measure the raw force of my power and train the precision of my concentration. This is not obsession — it is discipline. A leader cannot allow herself to fall into the unnecessary; she must be an example of constancy and resilience. I must not only be number one in Class A through force, but through organization, results and the capacity to remain firm when others break. My duty is to demonstrate that efficiency is also a form of heroism. So let's go, Lily. Time is the most valuable thing we have and we've already wasted enough of it.
After that, Lily didn't ask me anything more. She stood still, in silence. My explanation had been clear, as it should be, so that she would understand my vision and reflect on what it truly means to lead.
(Narrator: Lily actually stayed put because she hadn't expected such a speech… or so much information all at once.)
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Day 3 of Genos's punishment:
23 hours, 22 minutes and 10 seconds remaining until I can see Sensei. I must be prepared for when the day comes that the punishment ends and I can show my improvements.
—You realize you said that out loud, right Genos? —said Dr. Stench, concerned.
(Escritorinfinity: Genos has been counting the days while Dr. Stench repairs him and installs new improvements.)
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Day 4 of Fubuki's punishment:
—Miss Fubuki… —Lily asked with a trembling voice, clearly confused.
—What is it, Lily? —I replied without taking my eyes off my binoculars, adjusting the focus with millimetric precision.
—What exactly are we doing on a building looking down at the street?
—Strategic surveillance —I replied with professional seriousness—. It's a technique that allows us to observe the target without being detected, analyze their behavioral patterns and anticipate possible threats. Surprise is the most effective weapon of a strategist. You were the one who insisted I leave the office, weren't you?
—Yes, Mrs., but… —Lily hesitated—. I'm not sure that spending two hours observing a shop where Commissioner Saitama is eating udon qualifies exactly as "surveillance strategy."
Lily was completely wrong. My Darling was a natural magnet for danger. Villains found him, threats gravitated toward him like moths to a flame. It was the infallible method for detecting high-level criminal activity. And when I presented myself at just the right moment, I would be there to assist him, to demonstrate that I am a valuable ally, that I am not a little girl that my Oneesan can manipulate and yank away the wretched punishment from!
—Mrs., you just sighed… for the fifth time in ten minutes.
—I'm evaluating the situation —I answered firmly, though I felt a slight warmth in my cheeks—. Observe how he eats. That absolute calm, that carefree confidence… only someone truly powerful can relax like that in public. It's… admirable.
(Narrator: In reality, she is admiring how Saitama's muscles show through his shirt after he accidentally got it wet. She's been "strategically" analyzing the best angle to see his abs for half an hour.)
—Mrs. Fubuki, he's just… eating noodles.
—Exactly! —I exclaimed, lowering the binoculars for a moment to look at Lily with intensity—. And don't you find it fascinating how someone so powerful finds pleasure in something so simple? That humility, that authenticity… it's an uncommon quality among high-ranking heroes. That's why he's important to our group.
I raised the binoculars again with renewed professional concentration. My Darling had just wiped his mouth with a napkin, a gesture so mundane and yet executed with that characteristic naturalness that made him so… Oh no. He dropped the napkin and bent down to pick it up…. Sweetheart, look at that view of that rear end, what a divine blessing!! My mind, betraying me at the worst possible moment, allowed itself that completely inappropriate thought that should never cross the mind of a serious and professional leader like myself. AND I AM LOVING THIS MOMENT!!
—Mrs.? Your breathing has accelerated.
—I'm concentrating, Lily. Don't interrupt!! —I replied more brusquely than necessary, feeling the heat rising to my cheeks while I tried to recover control of my own undisciplined thoughts. I looked again to see if he'd picked it up yet. Hehe.
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Day 4 of Genos's punishment:
—Saitama sensei, sir. —I announced with firmness before the door of sensei's apartment.
My punishment had ended. I had reflected on my mistakes, analyzed every failure in my behavioral protocols and reinforced the corresponding discipline systems. Everything was in order to continue under sensei's tutelage and execute the next step I had meticulously planned during those days of reflection: requesting permanent residence at his home.
—Genos…? Come in, I'm in the living room. —I heard sensei's voice in an unusually animated tone, which I attributed to satisfaction at my proper fulfillment of the punishment.
—Excuse me. —I announced formally as I opened the door and moved toward the living room. Sensei was standing in front of a mirror, finishing the adjustment of his police uniform tie.
—Genos, good to see you. How have you been? Tatsumaki isn't here today, she has a mission. But anyway, today we can start with… —his voice cut off suddenly. He frowned—. Genos, that is…
I dropped my enormous backpack, containing everything necessary for my self-repair, to the floor with a dull thud that echoed through the entire apartment. I looked directly into his eyes with the greatest seriousness I could project, because this was, objectively, the most important question I would ask in my life as his disciple.
—May I stay with you, Sensei?
—Obviously not. Of course not. —he responded immediately, without even thinking about it.
I produced a thick stack of bills and deposited it on the table with a dry thud.
—I can pay rent.
He remained still for a moment, looking at the money. Then he looked at me calmly.
—Genos, you don't understand. I…
A second stack fell on top of the first. This time he spent two full minutes looking at the small tower that had formed.
—I'll pay you double.
He breathed deeply, and for a moment I noticed his eyebrow twitch slightly.
—I have two wives, and they…
Two stacks fell this time. He spent four minutes looking at it.
—…wouldn't be happy with me letting someone else in without consulting them first…
Four stacks fell.
—…it's a matter of respect toward them, and…
Eight stacks fell.
—STOP DROPPING MONEY, I'M NOT EASY TO BUY, YOU IMBECILE!! —sensei finally exploded, rubbing his forehead with evident stress as he stared at the tower of bills.
—Was it not enough? I can go to the bank right now.
—NO! —he said, raising a hand and looking at me with absolute seriousness.
He was quiet for a moment. He let out a long sigh and seemed to recover his composure.
—Let's do this —he said in a calmer tone—. Tatsumaki will come for lunch as she always does. If you want, you can explain the situation to her yourself and we'll hear what she decides. But don't get excited yet: Fubuki's decision will also be needed. Shall we head out?
—Yes, sensei!
But at that point I remembered something very important I needed to ask sensei.
—Sensei, may I request something important?
Sensei turned and looked at me, confused.
—Huh? What is it now?
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Day 5.
—Thank you, sensei, for accepting my request for today, although I acknowledge it was somewhat absurd. —I said in a formal and direct tone.
Sensei positioned himself at a considerable distance, stretched his arms naturally, put his hands in the pockets of his police suit and looked at me with that neutral expression that revealed absolutely nothing.
—It's nothing, Genos. I promised to make you my disciple, so let's see what you have to offer. —he replied simply, while removing his cap and shaking it off.
We were on the outskirts of City Z, in an arid zone surrounded by rocks and mountains with sparse vegetation. A suitable place for a simulated combat.
—Well, it's better if you get this over with already! I'm almost done with the sauce, I just need the lettuce, the egg and to cut the tomato! —that was Mrs. Tatsumaki shouting from a very distant and safe spot where she was preparing sandwiches without taking her eyes off the ingredients—. With this I hope Genos finally calms down about the staying-at-home business!
—Right sweetheart, and take this too! I don't want it to get damaged!
With that sensei lifted his cap and it was immediately wrapped in a green aura that helped it float over to Mrs. Tatsumaki. Where she put it on with a shameless attitude and an affectionate smile.
Mrs. Tatsumaki had not come solely for the picnic with sensei that he had promised. She had also come to witness whether I could pass the challenge. The day before, sensei and Mrs. Tatsumaki had discussed the possibility of my permanent stay with him for direct and continuous instruction. Mrs. Tatsumaki had been reluctant from the start. She didn't want me near. That was evident and required no further analysis.
However, I had no intention of giving up. I needed to prove to sensei that I was at the level of being his disciple, and I was not going to allow a calculating and manipulative person who maintained in front of sensei a facade of a kind and understanding housewife to interfere with my objective. I also had pending business exposing her completely. That was why I proposed a wager she couldn't refuse without revealing herself: if I won, I would stay with sensei and she would accept my status as disciple without objection. If I lost, I would not only give up living with them, but would also serve additional days without being able to approach sensei. That last condition was proposed by her herself in her usual tone of reasonableness, so that if sensei accepted it, it would appear to be a fair consequence rather than what it actually was: a deliberate attempt to distance me from him without bearing the responsibility for having done so. I was not going to allow it.
—Right, I'll establish the conditions of the combat. —said Mrs. Tatsumaki, approaching us—. Since Genos is obviously weaker than my husband, I'll give him some limitations and advantages. First: my husband will not move from his spot at any moment — he may only dodge blows without lifting his feet. Second: Genos will only win if he manages to move sensei from his position. And third… —at that moment I noticed a smile forming on her face—. My husband will wear this blindfold.
Upon hearing the last condition I raised an eyebrow, confused and with a certain irritation. Partly because removing sensei's vision represented a considerable advantage for me by eliminating his capacity to anticipate my strikes, but also because it seemed dishonoring to impose a limitation of that nature on him. However, what disturbed me most was the motive behind the decision. Mrs. Tatsumaki wanted to keep me away from sensei — that was an established fact — and yet she was handing me a real advantage. There was a trick somewhere. I confirmed it when I observed sensei's expression: he was visibly concerned.
—My dear, I don't know if it's a good idea for me to put this on. Maybe we should…
—Don't worry, sensei. I accept the challenge. —I said firmly, without taking my eyes off Tatsumaki. The trick no longer mattered to me—. I'll give everything I have to earn your trust. I won't hold back against anything.
—You see, sweetheart? He wants you to give everything. So do it. Show him why you're the master. —She finished with a very proud and smug smile.
Sensei looked at the blindfold in his hands for several seconds with an expression that did not hide the discomfort the situation caused him. Then he sighed, placed the blindfold firmly and adjusted it until there was no possibility of vision remaining.
What occurred immediately afterward I could not process with the speed I would have expected from my analytical systems. The moment sensei finished adjusting the blindfold, he turned his head with a precision that had no reasonable explanation, pointing directly toward where I was standing, as if the cloth over his eyes were completely irrelevant. Then he adopted a combat stance which, structurally, presented nothing out of the ordinary, but something about it involuntarily triggered every single one of my alert protocols simultaneously. It wasn't the stance itself. It was what emanated from it: a pressure that came from no identifiable source, that didn't register in any of my sensors in concrete form, but that accumulated in the atmosphere with the same certainty with which one detects the proximity of an explosion before it occurs. It was a sensation my instruments didn't know how to classify, and that alone was already sufficient information to take it with extreme seriousness.
I was not going to hold back.
I activated all my propulsors at maximum power simultaneously. The thrust launched me forward, tearing through the air as I went, closing the distance in a fraction of a second. I rotated my body accumulating maximum rotational velocity and delivered a direct kick at his face with all the force my systems could generate. The impact produced a shock wave that reverberated in every direction, triggering an explosion with enough power to clear an entire mountain. For an instant I calculated that I had achieved the objective. That was a mistake. When the smoke dispersed, sensei was still standing at the exact same point, holding my leg in the air with one hand, with the same neutral expression as always, as if the exchange had required no measurable effort on his part. He released me. I fell to the ground with enough force to open a crater, got up immediately and moved again.
This time a spinning kick with triple rotation at maximum speed, calculated to maximize torque at the point of impact. Sensei caught it without shifting his feet a single millimeter, absorbing the explosion that followed without showing any visible effect. I drew back by instinct before he could launch me again and reorganized my attack parameters in real time. Powerful impacts were not generating any displacement. I changed vector.
I propelled myself toward him at full power and upon reaching optimal distance I unleashed a burst of chained strikes at supersonic speed, a sequence designed to saturate any defense system through sheer volume. Sensei didn't move. Each blow was stopped individually by the palm of his hand, without haste, without any postural adjustment, as if the speed of the impacts were a completely irrelevant data point for him. Then, with a single swat, he sent me flying backward with enough force that the recoil opened a crack that ran across the entire surrounding terrain. I got up with my systems too confused and the conclusion registered with clarity: physical attacks were not producing any useful result.
I activated all my incineration cannons simultaneously.
—Incinerate!
The charging chambers saturated in fractions of a second. I released a plasma beam at ultra-high temperature with enough power to vaporize the entire terrain in that direction. Sensei raised both arms and with a single movement deflected the entire blaze to both sides, with the same gesture one uses to brush aside something of no importance. The mountains in those directions disappeared in a fireball that illuminated the entire horizon.
Sensei was still standing at the exact same point where he had begun the combat, without having shifted a centimeter.
I lowered the cannons and observed him in silence for a moment. Then I spoke.
—Sensei, even though you were told to hold back, as your disciple I cannot accept that. I want you to give everything you have. And to ask that of you, I first have to demonstrate that I will do the same.
I adjusted my right arm. The modification I had requested from Dr. Stench weeks prior, with additional adjustments I made specifically after observing sensei in combat: if I concentrated enough energy in that arm and delivered it at maximum speed, the resulting torque at the point of impact would be qualitatively different from any previous blow. It wasn't a new strategy. It was the only one that made sense to execute when all the previous ones had failed.
The reactor integrated in the arm began to charge. The temperature at the accumulation point rose so fast that the rock beneath my feet began to give way, melting slowly under the radiated heat. The propulsors aligned. The entire system was oriented toward a single objective: transferring the greatest possible amount of energy to the moment of impact, in the shortest possible time, without reserves.
I launched.
I covered the distance in milliseconds. When I was upon him I adjusted the trajectory of the fist at the last instant and directed it straight at his head with everything the system could deliver. The impact generated an expanding wave that swept the terrain in every direction, dissolved the surrounding rock formations and raised a column of dust and heat that obscured the entire area.
When the air began to clear, I didn't move. I waited with my sensors at maximum capacity, attempting to process what they were registering.
Sensei was still in the same place. Head tilted slightly downward. Without any mark. Without any displacement. The only visible consequence of the entire exchange was that the blindfold over his eyes had been completely disintegrated by the temperature of the blow. He slowly raised his gaze toward me, and every single one of my alert systems activated simultaneously without my being able to identify a concrete trigger. My alert systems all fired at once — I had to get out of there as fast as possible.
But then I heard a metallic blow against the rock behind me. I processed the sound with a delay. It was my right arm, or what remained of it: the impact had been absorbed entirely by my own structure, disintegrating the limb from within. What remained was an irregular stump with the internal systems exposed, the power cables cut and the repair mechanisms attempting to catalogue damage that exceeded their capacity for immediate compensation. I registered it. There was nothing to be done about it at that moment.
Then, in under a millisecond, sensei disappeared.
It was not a movement my sensors could track. There was no prior air displacement, no directional indicator, no useful data of any kind. He simply ceased to be in front of me and appeared behind, with his fist already charged and on final trajectory. My evasion systems processed the situation and returned a single response: impossible. The angle, the speed and the distance left no margin. What was before me was not an attack I could dodge or block.
It was a conclusion.
And I could only see one word: DEATH. It was my end.
But… in that instant, something pulled me forcefully from behind.
Sensei's fist passed centimeters from my position and the air it displaced generated a shock wave that swept the entire area, tearing up rock, raising dust and bending what little of the surrounding terrain still stood. The blast struck me directly even at the distance to which I had been dragged.
When the blast subsided, the dust began to disperse slowly and when the air was clean enough, I saw something unprecedented — there was Mrs. Tatsumaki floating centimeters from the point of sensei's impact, looking at him fixedly. She had not retreated. She had not dodged. She was exactly where she had been before the fist moved, arms crossed and an expression of absolute calm before what had just occurred, as if proximity to that level of force constituted no relevant information for her.
I tried to get up. I couldn't. My legs gave way before I could stabilize my center of gravity and I ended up on the ground again, with my balance systems still compensating for the accumulated shock of the combat. I registered it without internal commentary and redirected my sensors toward the terrain.
What I saw behind Mrs. Tatsumaki I couldn't catalogue immediately. The direction toward which my final blow had connected, where minutes earlier a mountain range had risen, was now a completely flat surface. Not rubble, not craters, not collapsed formations. Flat. As if the relief had never existed. Sensei's fist, which had passed centimeters from my position, had continued its trajectory and leveled everything it encountered in that direction without stopping, leaving only what I saw — nothing — and the absolute sky above.
I remained on the ground processing that data for several seconds. I had no useful response to generate, until I heard her.
—How pathetic. —said Mrs. Tatsumaki without deigning to look at me.
—Mrs. Tatsumaki, you…
—You were lucky I was here. Although initially I seriously considered not intervening, to see if you'd reincarnate as a cockroach and finally come to understand the value of your existence.
—You… wait, sensei is…
—Rrr… Jrrr…
I was left without words. The sound came directly from sensei: a soft and completely tranquil snore. My systems processed the audio several times before I could accept the interpretation as valid. SENSEI HAD BEEN ASLEEP THIS WHOLE TIME?!!
—Sensei is…
—Asleep? Yes. It's a consequence of his training.
—Training? Sensei… what is happening? Was he sleeping from the moment we started fighting? How did he…?
Mrs. Tatsumaki extended her palm toward me, then pressed my face into the ground, cutting off any further words. Without responding, she approached sensei calmly, took his arm and lowered it carefully until it was relaxed at his side. Then she hugged him, causing his legs to give way and his knees to lower until he was at her height. She then carried him with a clean and apparently effortless motion, holding him the way someone holds something that belongs to them and has no intention of releasing. She looked at me over her shoulder with an expression that required no interpretation: I was a minor detail in a situation she had already resolved.
—I have no obligation to explain anything to you. I'll only tell you that this is the result of his training… of 5 years.
—5 years?! How is it possible that…?
—You fought well today. And you fulfilled what you promised: my husband moved from his spot. Rules are rules. —she paused briefly and with her free hand adjusted sensei's cap back into place without stopping holding him—. That's why I'll allow you to stay, but in the apartment on the other side. Not in ours. I will not allow a cockroach to interrupt my life in the sky. Rest and present yourself afterward, once you've been repaired. We'll see how long your desire to play at being a disciple lasts.
She was already rising when I spoke.
—You only did this to get back at me. All of this was a tantrum on your part. You just wanted to see me in this sorry state. Do you really think this will stop me? —I said firmly, without any variation in tone.
She stopped. She didn't turn.
—Believe what you want. Let's see if you last.
—Mrs. Tatsumaki! —I waited a second before continuing—. Even if it takes me years, I swear I will make sensei see you for exactly what you really are. He doesn't need someone who manipulates him. Especially a harpy like you.
Silence. Then a short laugh, without humor, and she turned just enough to look at me over her shoulder with an expression of absolute arrogance that made no attempt to conceal itself.
—Let's see if you can, simple cockroach.
She left. The sound of the wind she left in her wake faded quickly, and the place fell into complete silence. I was still on the ground, with one arm destroyed, my repair systems working in the background and a promise I had just made without fully measuring the implications, but which I had no intention of taking back.
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Day 5 of Fubuki's punishment:
—DAMN IT, HOW FRUSTRATING!!
I slammed my head against the desk seeing that only 4 days of the punishment had passed. And the worst of it all… I DIDN'T THINK ABOUT THE SEXUAL FRUSTRATION. I WANT TO DIE.
(Narrator: Miss Fubuki would remain like this for a few more days, until an event occurred that would change everything.)