(I decided to release this early)
The episode continued, showing Saitama asleep in his plain little room before the morning light crept in. Everything looked calm—until, out of nowhere, something slammed into him with brutal force, sending him crashing straight through the wall of his own apartment.
The class gasped in unison.
"He—he got attacked in his house?!" Kaminari shouted, his eyes wide.
Saitama twisted his body midair and managed to land on his feet. He glanced back at the ruins of his apartment My apartment."
Ochaco's shoulders slumped, her hands balling into fists. "That's so awful… He worked hard and now he doesn't even have a home…" She whispered it almost to herself, but a few classmates overheard. They suddenly realized how devastating that would feel if it happened to them—heroes or not.
Before they could linger on the thought, the screen showed Saitama being struck again, a horned fist smashing into his face. Blood trickled from his head as he was knocked through another wall.
The audience recoiled.
"NO WAY!" Kirishima shouted, half-rising from his seat. "He actually bled—!"
Midoriya leaned forward, panic flashing in his eyes. "H-he has to get back up… He has to!" He muttered unconsciously, his voice trembling. To him, Saitama had already become someone close to All Might even though he knew that Saitama is a wall of strength beyond all might. Does it mean he see him as the same level of a hero is all might but The idea of seeing him fall was unbearable.
Bakugo, for once, said nothing. His jaw clenched so tightly that his teeth ground audibly, and his fists shook in his lap.
On-screen, the attacker finally stepped out of the shadows: a muscular figure, horns covering his face, his body radiating menace.
"…Subterranean," he declared.
For a heartbeat, the theater was silent. Then Mina shrieked, "N-NO WAY!"
That set off a chain reaction.
"They're real?!" Sero yelped.
"Like… underground monsters?!" Ashido echoed.
Midoriya's muttering spilled out rapid-fire. "Maybe—they're creatures that evolved underground—living in an entirely different ecosystem—"
But the villains looked at each other with mixed feelings.
Spinner frowned. "Subterraneans? What the hell…"
Even Shigaraki clicked his tongue. "Tch. Doesn't sound like heroes or villains. Just mindless freaks."
All For One, however, leaned forward ever so slightly, silent but clearly intrigued.
The screen darkened as more of the creatures began clawing out of the ground, surrounding their leader. He spoke coldly of overpopulation, of the surface world being too crowded—and how they had already wiped out 70% of humanity in their underground campaign.
The theater fell into stunned silence.
"Se… seventy percent?!" Yaoyorozu choked out, covering her mouth.
"That's insane…" Denki muttered, pale.
The heroes stiffened. To them, the number wasn't just statistics—it was the weight of millions of lives extinguished. The students felt the chill too, though it was harder for them to truly grasp.
"This isn't even villainy," Midnight said in a low voice, her eyes narrowing. "This is genocide."
Even the League of Villains shifted uncomfortably. Toga frowned for once, her playful grin gone. "That's… just boring killing. No fun in that."
Spinner crossed his arms. "We fight for a cause. These things? They're just wiping people out like pests."
For the first time, even the villains silently rooted for Saitama—though none of them dared admit it aloud.
The screen held on the endless ranks of subterraneans crawling out of the earth, their voices echoing as they proclaimed their intent to cleanse the surface.
And all the while, the thought gnawed at every hero and student: If Saitama can't stop them… then who could?
Back on the screen, more subterraneans emerged beside the first one.
"It's very surprising. We've never met a human who survived one of our punches," one of them sneered.
Saitama tilted his head, unfazed. "Oh yeah? Same here. It's been a long time since I've encountered a worthy opponent." His lips curved into a small smile—clear excitement breaking through his usually dull demeanor.
The mole man's expression twisted with rage. He lunged forward, throwing a punch meant to crush. But Saitama dodged effortlessly, the swing smashing into a pillar and obliterating it. Before anyone in the audience could blink, Saitama countered with his own punch—so clean and direct it blew the mole man's upper body apart in a single strike.
"YES!!" Real Steel and Kirishima erupted at the same time, fists pumping into the air. Their voices carried across the theatre, echoing with unfiltered hype.
Everyone turned to stare at them—classmates, pros, even villains—all wearing looks that ranged from shock to disbelief. How could they be so excited after watching a body explode like that? The intensity of their grins, practically glowing with admiration, unsettled most of their peers.
The music and pace of the fight only fueled their energy further. Their classmates were left in awe not just of Saitama, but of the sheer passion blazing out of those two boys. Even the pro heroes—serious, disciplined, trained to stay detached—had to admit the infectious energy was spreading.
Back on the screen, Saitama landed lightly on top of an overpass, several mole men leaping up to follow him. They attacked in quick succession, saitama easily dodged every single one of them. Then they surrounded him and they struck their fists slamming down in a synchronized strike. Saitama blocked with ease, but the combined force shattered the overpass beneath them.
Gasps filled the theatre. Dust rose on the screen, but Saitama's silhouette never wavered.
Real Steel practically bounced in his seat, eyes wide. "Did you see that?! That's raw, man! Pure raw power!"
Kirishima's voice cracked as he added, "Unbreakable spirit! That's manly as hell!!"
Their enthusiasm spread like wildfire. Students who had been frozen in shock moments before now leaned forward, adrenaline catching on. They couldn't help it—the rhythm of the punches, the speed of the dodges, the sheer weight of the battle—it was exhilarating.
Aizawa, arms crossed, didn't flinch. His sharp eyes stayed locked on the screen. "He's not a martial artist. Doesn't even use proper technique. But those movements…" he muttered under his breath, barely audible to the heroes around him. "That's someone who's fought more battles than he can count."
The rational heroes like him remained cautious, evaluating instead of cheering, but even they felt the pull of respect.
On screen, Saitama spun low, sweeping his leg and forcing three mole men into perfect alignment. In a blink, his fist shot forward, sending them rocketing across the highway and tearing chunks of the overpass apart.
Then the ground shook. A massive mole man, far larger than the others, rose and smashed Saitama into the distance with a colossal punch. The impact erupted into a fiery explosion, leveling a chunk of the city.
The audience jolted, stunned by the scale of the destruction. Even seasoned pros felt their stomachs tighten.
The mole men roared in triumph, believing their enemy defeated. But then—through the settling smoke—Saitama's voice rang out clear and defiant.
And responded to what the moment said a second ago Who, me? I'm just a guy who's a hero for fun…" he paused, eyes gleaming as he launched back toward them, "…and this Earth is under my protection!"
The words ignited something primal.
Real Steel and Kirishima shot out of their seats at the same time, veins bulging in their necks as they screamed at the top of their lungs, "FUCK YES!!!"
The sound shook the room. Everyone else covered their ears in pain, even villains flinching at the sheer volume.
Normally, Bakugo would've been the first one to bark at Real Steel and Kirishima to shut up, but this time he didn't. Instead, he sat forward, a rare grin tugging at his lips. For once, he wasn't angry—he was thrilled. Watching Saitama fight like this, finally cutting loose, filled him with something he couldn't suppress: happiness.
Back on the screen, waves of mole men lunged at Saitama. Each one was effortlessly sent flying—some with a flick of his wrist, others with a casual jab that shattered their bodies. Then the giants began to move. One massive subterranean swung down with a punch, but Saitama buried him into the ground with a single strike. The brute bounced back up, only to be flattened again and again.
Buildings were hurled at him. Saitama either sidestepped them like they were nothing or shattered them apart with casual swipes. The fight raged on, the battlefield turning into rubble.
"What is this feeling…?" Saitama's inner voice echoed as the camera focused on his eyes, dilating with long-forgotten exhilaration. "This rush… this sensation…"
The scene shifted into a series of rapid cuts—his fists colliding with subterranean flesh, shockwaves ripping through the battlefield, and Saitama's heart pounding in rhythm with the rising music.
"It's been so long… I almost forgot the exertion of a real fight."
The music swelled, the bass syncing with the sound of his heartbeat.
"YES!!" Real Steel and Kirishima shouted again, unable to contain themselves. But this time, Bakugo joined them, his voice cutting through the theatre like thunder.
All three stood, fists clenched, faces blazing with exhilaration. For them, it wasn't about the gore or destruction—it was about seeing someone at the top, someone undeniably the strongest, finally smiling. Finally enjoying the very thing that made him powerful.
Their classmates looked at them like they'd lost their minds. Tears welled up in Real Steel's eyes as he yelled, "That's manly as hell!" Kirishima echoed him, shaking from how deeply the moment hit him. Even Bakugo, the loudest skeptic, was caught up in it. He didn't deny it this time. This was everything he wanted strength to be.
On the screen, Saitama stood tall, chest heaving as rain fell from the now-cleared sky. He looked alive in a way none of them had seen before. "This is it… it's all coming back to me."
But before the rush could last—BOOM—the ground erupted. Another subterranean appeared, this one larger than the rest, sporting four arms. The king.
Saitama's grin widened. "This is a real fight!"
Just as Real Steel, Kirishima, and Bakugo inhaled, ready to scream again—
BEEP BEEP BEEP!
The blaring sound of an alarm clock cut through everything. Saitama slammed it with his fist, groggily waking up in his bed.
It had all been a dream.
The theatre erupted with unified outrage. "NOOOOO!!!" voices from students, villains, and even a few heroes mixed together.
Kirishima dropped back into his seat, eyes glistening. "Saitama… he finally had a real fight…" His voice cracked. "It was so manly… so incredible… I'll never forget it."
Real Steel sniffled beside him, wiping his face but failing to hide the tears.
"You two do realize," Aizawa interrupted dryly, his voice cutting through the drama, "that if that had been real, 70% of humanity would be dead right now."
The words slammed into them. Kirishima and Real Steel froze, faces paling, before scrambling to sit upright. They quickly wiped their eyes and forced themselves to look composed again, pretending they hadn't just been bawling. Their classmates shook their heads, whispering about how ridiculous the two were being.
Kirishima cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh… sorry, guys. I just… got carried away. It was… it was so amazing seeing him finally get what he wanted. A real fight." His voice trembled, dangerously close to cracking again.
"Alright, we get it," Bakugo grunted, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips betrayed his own excitement.
Before anyone could push the conversation further, Seven clapped his hands. "We're almost done with the episode. Save the rest for the break."
The screen resumed. Outside, screams echoed through the city. The mole men had actually appeared—but this time, they weren't titans. They were weak. Pathetically weak.
Saitama stepped outside, his foot accidentally crushing the so-called "king" into paste. The survivors instantly surrendered, trembling in fear.
The audience gawked, utterly speechless. The whiplash between the dream and the reality left them frozen, unsure what to even think.
"I guess I'm too strong," Saitama muttered, scratching his cheek.
The screen faded to black.
Everyone thought it was the end—until it cut again, this time to a quiet field. A herd of cows lay dead, smoke rising off their bodies. And standing among them was a blonde man with metallic arms and a piercing gaze.
"Who's that guy?" Kaminari blurted, pointing at the screen.
The others leaned forward, curiosity instantly sparked.
"Obviously someone important," Bakugo said with certainty. "Why the hell would they show him otherwise?"
Seven smirked. "Correct. But he's not just important—he's something rare. Special. In this world, there are very few like him. At most, one in the entire world at a time."
The audience exchanged confused glances, curiosity mounting.
"He's a variant WAIT! DON'T LEAVE LET ME EXPLAIN
He looked directly at the "camera." "This isn't going to turn into one of those fanfics filled with character swaps or stolen credit. Genos is his own character. Always. The only reason I'm labeling him a variant is for jokes, for a bit of meta commentary, and maybe some extra conversations later on. They'll be treated as two separate people, and I'll make sure the characters understand that. Trust me, I'm not one of those writers. This is just for fun, and it'll only happen a few times in the whole series."
Once he was finished addressing the "audience," he turned back to the cast, whose eyes were still locked on the blonde cyborg on the screen.
The theatre was buzzing with whispers after Seven dropped the word variant. Some of the sharper students tried to explain it to those who looked confused, comparing it to "alternate versions" of someone.
"That's incredible!" Mineta blurted out, his eyes wide. "Does that mean this guy could be me Mineta said
A wave of laughter rolled through the seats at the thought. Mina nearly fell over from giggling, while Jirō facepalmed.
"There's no way in hell," Bakugo snapped immediately, his glare sharp as ever. "He's obviously more like me."
That remark got a few snickers from Class 1-B, but before any banter could spiral, Seven raised his voice.
"Alright, alright. Before I reveal who this variant belongs to, I need to make something very clear." His tone sharpened, pulling the room's attention back in. "This person on the screen and the person sitting in this audience are completely different people."
Confusion rippled through the students.
Aizawa narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you just say they were variants?"
"Yes," Seven nodded, unfazed. "But because of their different worlds—different experiences, genetics, everything—they ended up growing into completely separate individuals. They share traits, habits, maybe parts of their personality… but they are not the same person. You'll understand what I mean once you see it."
The audience quieted down, some beginning to catch on while others still looked lost. A few whispered theories back and forth.
Seven's lips curved into a smirk. "This person's variant is… Tenya Iida."
The words hit like a shockwave. Every head turned at once toward Iida.
"W-what?!" Iida stumbled to his feet, his glasses nearly slipping off. His hands trembled as he tried to process the revelation.
Gasps and murmurs filled the room. Some of his classmates leaned closer, whispering about the similarities they hadn't noticed before, while others just gawked at him in disbelief.
Tensei Iida, sitting among the pro heroes, immediately stood and placed a steadying hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Calm yourself, Tenya. Whatever this means, it changes nothing about who you are." His reassuring tone helped Tenya sit back down, though the shock in his eyes remained.
Before anyone could fire off questions or start theorizing too loudly, the screen lit up again, signaling the start of the next episode. The room instantly hushed, their attention snapping back to the unfolding story—though all eyes lingered on Iida just a moment longer.