At the Hero Association headquarters, the emergency meeting room's lights burn through the night.
A holographic projection at the center of the metal roundtable loops footage of Z City's ruins—the collapsed remnants of the Monster Association's base, decayed monster corpses, and a massive trench stretching through Y City and X City.
"The damage report's in," Sitch says, sliding a data tablet to the table's center. "Y City's 37% destroyed, X City's 42%. Civilian casualties…"
He pauses. "Fewer than expected."
The executives around the table exchange glances.
They'd braced for the worst—past dragon-level disasters typically racked up casualty numbers ten times higher.
"That Nero guy…" Child Emperor, urgently summoned to headquarters, chews on a lollipop, swiping through his tablet. "He, Tornado, Saitama, and that Gojo guy from the neighboring island took down the Monster Association's core forces? Just the four of them?"
The projection shifts, showing Gaio's back, Enma Blade in hand, and Psykos being led away by Fubuki.
"That's not all," Metal Knight's robotic voice crackles through the speaker. "Energy readings show the Monster Association had over 30,000 ghost-level, wolf-level, and lower-tier monsters. Early in the battle, Nero didn't just erase Z City's no-man's-land—he wiped out over 20,000 low-level monsters in the process."
"Him? Alone?" someone asks.
"Yes." Even through the speaker, Metal Knight's tone carries weight.
The room falls silent.
"So, besides that, what else did he do? The data says he didn't take out any dragon-level monsters," a blond, one-eyed man breaks the quiet, waving a stack of papers.
This is McCoy, one of the Hero Association's top executives and a contender for Sitch's position.
"What are you getting at, McCoy?" Zeginger frowns.
McCoy leans back in his chair, smirking. "Isn't it obvious? Since this meeting started, you've all been hyping up this Nero guy, going on about his great contributions."
He lets out a cold laugh. "Don't forget, he's on loan from next door. He's not one of us."
"Plus, I've only seen proof of his ability to wipe out low-level monsters en masse. Where's the evidence he can handle dragon-level threats?"
Zeginger, incensed by McCoy's disrespectful tone toward Gaio, slams his hands on the table and stands. "McCoy! Have you forgotten his battle with Saitama in A City? That kind of power doesn't deserve our respect?"
"So what?" McCoy shrugs off Zeginger's anger. "That fight—you couldn't even see what was happening on the battlefield. For all we know, it could've been a stunt pulled by Saitama and this Nero guy."
"I'll admit Saitama's combat power is impressive, but his character? Let's just say the Deep Sea King and meteor incidents don't paint a great picture."
McCoy's words spark murmurs among the executives.
Zeginger's lips tremble with rage, about to retort.
A sleazy-looking fat man chimes in, "I think McCoy's got a point. If this Nero guy's so strong, why haven't we heard of him before? We all know how tough Gojo Satoru is."
He's one of the Hero Association's sponsors, colluding with McCoy to run underground betting rings on hero-monster battles.
"What are you two trying to say?" Sitch finally speaks.
McCoy crosses his arms, propping his chin. "Nothing much. Just a reminder not to overhype this Nero guy. The Monster Association's gone, and the monsters are weakened for some reason. We can send them back now."
"You're trying to kick them out? They're reinforcements we invited!" Zeginger roars.
"So what?" McCoy spreads his hands, nonchalant. "With Tornado and Saitama, we could've handled the Monster Association. Plus, we've got other S-Class heroes."
"Or we could recruit them," a McCoy-supporting tycoon adds. "If they join the Hero Association, give them an S-Class title, fine. If not, they should leave ASAP."
The tycoon's words freeze the room's air.
Sitch's fingers tap a dull rhythm on the table. He notices at least six council members subtly glancing toward McCoy—three of whom swore last week to court the jujutsu world.
"Since everyone has an opinion," Sitch stands abruptly, slamming the table, "let's vote per protocol."
He ignores McCoy's cold smirk. "Motion: Should Zeginger handle sending off the jujutsu reinforcements?"
As the electronic voting screen lights up, McCoy raises a hand. "I propose amending the motion."
He twirls a gold-plated pen. "We should discuss how to send these 'guests' off at the lowest cost." The pen jabs at Gaio's hologram. "After all, the war's over."
The vote passes with 71% approval.
Zeginger yanks off his tie, his single eye glaring at McCoy.
"I'll prepare the handover documents," Sitch says, restraining his furious colleague, voice low. "You contact Bang."
McCoy, exuding a victor's swagger, heads for the door, a gaggle of tycoons trailing him like he's the Hero Association's true leader.
At the headquarters' floor-to-ceiling windows, McCoy overlooks the city under reconstruction.
The tycoons' luxury cars have left, leaving him alone in the office.
A cold smile curls his lips as he taps the glass.
"Got something?" he asks without turning.
His assistant hurries forward, handing over a tablet. "Yes, sir. The jujutsu folks are all at a hot spring inn. They seem… relaxed."
"Vacation, huh?" McCoy sneers. "Let them enjoy their last bit of leisure."
He turns, eyes dark. "Go. Rally the S-Class heroes."
The assistant hesitates. "Sir, isn't that a bit…"
"A bit what?" McCoy narrows his eyes. "If they won't leave quietly, we'll show them who runs this place."
The assistant swallows hard, bowing. "Yes, sir! I'll arrange it!"
McCoy watches the assistant scurry off, his smile deepening.
He mutters to himself, "I don't buy that anyone could have that much power. That's not human—that's a god. Weakening the neighbors' supernatural forces… that'll be a big win for my plans."
---
In the misty hot spring pool, Yuji Itadori slumps in the water, only half his face above the surface. "Ahhh~~~ This is so relaxing, my soul's floating away…"
Megumi Fushiguro glances at him. "We're here to help, not vacation."
"What's the big deal?" Yuji grins, splashing water. "The Monster Association's done for. Let the Hero Association handle the rest."
Gojo Satoru stretches lazily. "Eh, nothing left for us to do. Might as well chill."
Gaio, leaning against the pool's edge with eyes closed, suddenly cracks one open, looking outside the inn.
"What's up?" Nissha notices his movement.
Gaio says calmly, "Someone's coming."
Gojo's lips curl. "Oh?"
Engines roar outside, followed by synchronized footsteps.
Yuji bolts upright. "Huh? Hero Association guys?"
As he speaks, rapid footsteps echo from the wooden corridor outside the bathhouse.
Locker doors clank, showers hiss, as if an army's going through pre-bath protocol.
Splash!
The bamboo curtain is flung open, Superalloy Darkshine's massive frame nearly blocking the doorway.
Water droplets cling to his dark muscles, his iconic black triangle briefs gleaming wet.
"S-Sorry!" He scratches his head with a goofy grin, squeezing into the pool like a rhino shop, his splash flooding Yuji's nose.
Before anyone can react, Atomic Samurai strolls in, toothpick in mouth.
His torso is crisscrossed with scars, a bath towel loosely tied at his waist, three swords still strapped to his back.
"Heard the water here eases muscle fatigue," he says, plopping down across from Gaio, his scabbards clinking against the pool's edge.
A sultry moan echoes from the changing room.
Sexy Prisoner bursts in, wrapped in a pink towel. "Oh~ Bathing with so many hunky guys, I might just faint from bliss!"
His wheat-colored pecs bear unhealed scars, and his dive into the pool nearly squashes Fushiguro.
"Hey, isn't this, like, trespassing?" Yuji grumbles, but Flashy Flash is already at the pool's edge.
The blond assassin, without his headband, looks younger, but a slender rapier still hangs at his waist.
He slips silently into the water, steam clouding his hawk-like eyes.
Zombieman, the only one with body wash, enters next.
His pale body is stitched with visible seams, methodically scrubbing a bony wound on his arm.
Tanktop Master arrives last, his massive back muscles tearing half the bamboo curtain. He's holding a protein shake bottle.
The once-spacious pool is now packed.
Yuji, wedged between Atomic Samurai and Sexy Prisoner, flushes red from the squeeze.
Fushiguro's pinned in a corner by Superalloy Darkshine's bulk; Gojo's sunglasses are fogged to opacity, yet he keeps a creepy smile.
Most awkward is Gaio—flanked by Flashy Flash and Atomic Samurai, their knees brushing underwater.
The pool echoes with heavy breathing and the click of Sexy Prisoner's camera snapping a photo.