Kaito had appeared in front of the lewd man at some point, his three scars looking especially menacing beneath the relentless rain.
His gaze was so cold, it seemed capable of freezing a soul.
The lewd man's next words caught in his throat, the grin on his face instantly replaced by sheer terror.
Kaito: "Repeat what you just said."
The lewd man shivered, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Yet the stubbornness he had cultivated as a lifelong keyboard warrior online pushed him to cling desperately to his fragile pride.
"I... I said... those heroes are trash! To be defeated by such trashy monsters, they don't deserve to be heroes at all! Wasting our tax—"
Bang—!!!
A sharp, bone-rattling explosion of sound drowned out the falling rain.
Kaito's right hand struck hard across the lewd man's face.
He had already restrained ninety-nine percent of his strength to avoid slapping the man's head clean off, but even so, the blow was far beyond what any ordinary human could endure.
The man's body flew several meters like a rag doll, blood and teeth scattering through the air.
"You... you actually hit me?! You're a hero! How could you—"
His voice was garbled and broken, yet he screamed as if standing on moral high ground.
Kaito advanced step by step. Each footfall felt like it landed on the lewd man's heartbeat.
From his coat, he retrieved a specially made Hero Association communicator. With a few quick taps, a holographic projection flared to life, displaying official text in glowing script.
"Disaster Response and Hero Rights Protection Act, Article 27."
During a hero's mission to combat disasters and protect citizens, their status is equivalent to that of law enforcement officers. Anyone at a disaster site who openly slanders or insults a hero in the line of duty, severely disrupts order, or incites opposition, may be lawfully stripped of their civil rights and sentenced to life imprisonment.
"Life... life imprisonment?!" The lewd man's face went pale. "No, impossible! I didn't say anything—"
"Genos."
Kaito's tone was cold and absolute.
"Yes, Mr. King," Genos replied immediately. His mechanical eyes projected the recording he had taken moments earlier, clearly capturing every slanderous word.
Kaito looked down at the man as one might look at a rotting carcass on the roadside.
"Based on your remarks, according to regulation, the highest-ranking hero on site has the right to represent the Association—strip you of your civil rights immediately, and escort you to the highest-security prison for life imprisonment."
Terror shattered the man's defiance. He scrambled forward, clutching at Kaito's legs, his face streaked with tears and snot.
"No! Mr. King! I was wrong! I was confused for a moment, my mouth is rotten! Please forgive me! I'll never say anything like that again! Heroes are good! They're all good! Please... please spare me!"
Kaito kicked him aside, sending him rolling several meters across the mud.
"You don't regret what you said. You only regret being punished."
But before Kaito could take further action, the man's body began convulsing violently. Strange patterns crawled across his skin as his screams distorted into guttural roars.
Fear, despair, and hatred twisted his flesh.
He was monsterifying.
In the world of One Punch Man, there are generally four sources of monsters:
1.
Humans twisted by extreme emotions, bad habits, immense stress, or mutations.
2.
Artificial creations through advanced technology or modification.
3.
Mutations of non-human organisms.
4.
Special, intelligent beings unlike humans altogether.
"Rrraaahhhh—!!!"
The lewd man was gone. In his place loomed the Stone Claw Monster—a hunched, gray-black creature covered in hardened keratin, claws sharp enough to rend steel.
Whatever remained of his human consciousness dissolved into a haze of bloodlust and rage.
Kaito stared at the creature, his expression void of surprise, only cold indifference with a hint of disgust.
"Perfect. That saves the trouble of imprisonment. Trash like you, wasting prison food and air, would be the greatest insult to resources."
His figure blurred.
In the blink of an eye, Kaito stood before the Stone Claw Monster. Without techniques, without theatrics—he simply lifted his right hand and flicked his finger.
Poof.
A dull, wet crack echoed through the storm.
The monster's skull burst apart like a melon struck by a hammer, spraying red, white, and gray across the muddy street.
The headless body swayed once before collapsing in the muck.
Swift. Precise. Ruthless. Cold.
Moments later, sirens wailed in the distance. Ambulances and armored Hero Association transports arrived, red and blue lights cutting through the storm.
Medical staff rushed out to tend to the battered, unconscious heroes scattered across the battlefield.
Kaito turned to Saitama and Genos.
"Let's go. My treat—post-battle meal."
At Kaito's home in M City.
Outside the window, the sun was setting, its orange-red glow streaming through the floor-to-ceiling glass, spilling warmly across the polished wooden floor of the living room.
Mosquito Girl carefully carried a plate of freshly cooked takoyaki, her footsteps light and hesitant as she approached the coffee table.
She placed the plate down with painstaking care, then immediately retreated, slipping behind Kaito's broad back. Only half her small head peeked out, her eyes wide and uncertain.
"Boss..." she whispered, her voice tinged with fear. Her gaze kept flicking toward that shiny bald head seated at the table.
Kaito could feel her delicate body pressed against his back, trembling slightly.
In recent days, under his protection, she had been given what she desired most: an unlimited supply of fresh blood.
Her prosthetic limbs—once crude mechanical replacements—had fully regrown. Guided by her own subconscious, her evolving form leaned toward a fair and strikingly beautiful woman rather than a grotesque insect.
Kaito reached back and gently patted her cool hand, his voice calm and steady.
"It's alright."
By the coffee table, Saitama sat cross-legged, scarfing down food without the slightest hint of restraint.
He shoved three takoyaki into his mouth at once, his cheeks puffed like a hamster as he mumbled, "Mmm! Delicious! King, your little maid's cooking is really good!"
The carefree hero had long since forgotten that he was the one who had nearly obliterated Mosquito Girl not so long ago.
Genos, seated rigidly to the side, did not share his master's easygoing attitude. His golden mechanical eyes stayed locked on Mosquito Girl, streams of combat data flashing in their depths.
His right arm had already shifted subtly into combat mode, ready to unleash an Incineration Cannon at the slightest provocation.
Kaito felt Mosquito Girl's trembling intensify behind him.
He chuckled softly, deliberately speaking in a relaxed tone:
"Saitama, if you like it that much, I'll have Mosquito Girl make more. You can take some home for later."
As he spoke, he reached back and clasped the small hand she rested on his shoulder. The gesture was simple—comforting her while silently conveying:
See? I told you I'd protect you.
Mosquito Girl's pale cheeks warmed, a faint blush coloring her expression.
"Mm..." she murmured softly.
Her eyes stole upward, lingering on Kaito's profile, his three scars etched even deeper by the dying sunlight.
In that moment, her reliance on him solidified into something absolute.
From fear and forced submission, her heart had shifted into genuine devotion. She couldn't even imagine a life without Kaito.
To betray him was unthinkable. Even if Kaito ordered her away, she would kneel, begging to stay by his side.
As for the so-called House of Evolution—the organization that had created her—what was that again? She had already forgotten.