The celebration was held on the roof of the newly refurbished, tungsten-reinforced, dual-gatling-turret-protected apartment complex.
It was, by all accounts, the most dangerous dinner party in human history.
In the center was a pot the size of a jacuzzi, fabricated by Metal Knight's drones specifically for this event. Inside, a broth brewed by Bang (using an ancient martial arts recipe intended to "invigorate the soul") bubbled violently.
Around it sat the S-Class, plus Garou, plus a few strays.
"Careful with the heat distribution," Genos warned, monitoring the propane levels. "The tofu requires a consistent 96 degrees Celsius to achieve optimal textural integrity."
"Just put the food in!" Pig God grunted. He wasn't transformed anymore, just his usual large self, holding a bucket of raw vegetables.
"Wait!" Saitama stood up, holding a tray with reverence. "The star of the show."
He unveiled the beef.
It wasn't just meat. It was the A5 Premium Wagyu that usually cost a month's rent per slice. With the 100% Off Coupon, Saitama had cleaned out the entire butcher shop. He had 50 kilos of the stuff.
"It glimmers," King whispered, lowering his sunglasses. "It's brighter than my future."
"Alright," Saitama said, his expression serious. "Rules of engagement. No powers. No telekinesis. No biting the chopsticks. And if anyone takes a piece before it's fully cooked..."
He narrowed his eyes.
"I will define you as a monster."
The air pressure on the roof dropped. S-Class heroes who fought dragon-level threats without flinching sweated nervously.
"Understood," Flashy Flash gripped his chopsticks like a dagger.
"Into the pot!"
What followed was a battle faster than the eye could follow.
Garou used the Cross Fang Chopstick Slayer technique, snapping pieces of pork from mid-air. Atomic Samurai sliced vegetables into microscopic slivers as they fell into the bowl. Tatsumaki tried to subtly levitate the radishes away from Fubuki, sparking a silent, telekinetic shoving match over the root vegetables.
Saitama stood firm. He protected his corner of the pot with a defense so impenetrable that even Flashy Flash couldn't breach it.
"Too slow," Saitama said, blocking Flash's chopstick with a spoon. "You telegraph your hunger."
"Impossible!" Flash gritted his teeth. "My velocity was lightspeed!"
"But your stomach growled first. It gave you away."
King sat quietly in the chaos. He didn't move fast. He simply waited. When Zombieman and Darkshine collided, knocking a meatball loose, King's plate just happened to be in the exact trajectory to catch it.
"Luck," King murmured, popping the meatball into his mouth. "The ultimate superpower."
An hour later, the carnage was over.
The S-Class lay scattered around the rooftop in various states of food comas.
Garou picked his teeth with a bone. "Not bad, baldy. Not bad."
Saitama sat on the edge of the roof, looking at his receipt. "Saved: 500,000 Yen. Total cost: 0." He wiped a tear from his eye. "This is the happiest day of my life."
"Happier than saving the universe?" Genos asked, recharging in a solar chair.
"Way happier. Universe saving doesn't pay the bills. Coupons do."
Fubuki walked over to him, holding two cans of cheap soda. She looked relaxed, her usual armor of ambition stripped away by good food and relief. She wore a simple blouse, her jacket discarded on a chair.
"Here," she handed him a soda.
"Thanks." Saitama cracked it open.
They sat in silence for a moment, legs dangling over the edge of the city. Below, the lights of City Z were coming back on, brighter than before.
"You know," Fubuki said softly. "The Association called me."
"Yeah?"
"They want to make this official. The 'Team.' They want to designate us a special ops unit. Outside the ranking system."
Saitama burped. "Sounds like work."
"It means a budget, Saitama. No more coupons. Just... unlimited groceries."
Saitama paused. He looked at her. "Unlimited?"
"Within reason." Fubuki smiled, bumping his shoulder with hers. "I think... I think we changed things. For real this time. The hierarchy... the rankings... nobody cares anymore. They saw what happened when the rankings fell apart. They saw who stood up."
She looked at him. Really looked at him. The man who broke every rule of her world just by existing.
"You make it hard to be a leader, you know," she murmured. "Because I keep wanting to follow you."
Saitama looked at her, his expression unusually soft. "I'm not leading anyone, Fubuki. I'm just going my way. If you guys are walking the same path... that's fine. It makes the walk less boring."
The moment lingered. The cool night air. The warmth between them. Fubuki leaned closer, her scent of lilies mixing with the smell of yakiniku. Her hand moved, covering his on the concrete railing.
"Saitama..."
FWOOSH.
A jet of blue flame blasted down from the sky, scorching the concrete three feet from them.
Fubuki jumped back, a psychic shield flashing into existence. Saitama just sighed, protecting his soda.
"Really?" Saitama complained. "On dessert time?"
A figure descended from the sky. He wore a suit similar to the Neo Heroes' armor, but sleeker. Blue and electric. He had blue hair and piercing eyes filled with an arrogant desperation.
Blue. Leader of the Neo Heroes (former). Son of Blast.
He hovered in front of them, flanked by high-tech drones.
The partying S-Class were on their feet instantly. Weapons drawn. Stances taken.
"Stand down," Blue commanded, his voice shaking with intensity. "I'm not here for a fight. I'm here for answers."
He landed, walking straight past the S-Class legends to Saitama.
"You," Blue pointed. "You fought him. In the Dimension of the Lost."
"Who?" Saitama sipped his soda.
"My father. Blast."
"Oh. The guy with the sunglasses? Yeah. We had a spar. He's fast. Overthinks things, though."
Blue grabbed Saitama's collar. Genos's cannon whined as it locked onto Blue's head. Garou crouched, ready to pounce.
Saitama raised a hand to stop them. He looked at the trembling young man gripping his shirt.
"Where is he?" Blue screamed, tears welling in his eyes. "He left me twenty years ago! He said he had to fight a war! He said he had to protect the future! And now I see him fighting you in a dead dimension? Why? Why didn't he come home?"
"The guy I fought wasn't real," Saitama said gently, removing Blue's hand. "He was a... 'Possibility.' A ghost made of memories."
Blue fell to his knees. "A ghost? So he's dead?"
"No," Saitama said. "He told me the real one is still out there. Still hunting."
Saitama crouched down to Blue's level.
"He said he's been hunting 'God.' That sounds like a long shift. Maybe he just lost track of time."
Blue punched the concrete, cracking it. "He abandoned us. To fight a war nobody sees."
"We see it now," a dark voice rasped.
Zombieman walked out of the shadows. "The cubes. The monster cells. The corruption. It's all connected to this God."
Zombieman looked at the team.
"The cubes are transmitters. They amplify the signal. If we want to find Blast... and if we want to stop the thing coming for us... we need to find the Receiver."
"The Receiver?" Fubuki asked.
"God sends power," Zombieman explained. "Like a broadcast station. But something on Earth, or near Earth, has to anchor it. That's why the dimension gates open here."
"The Moon," Genos said abruptly.
Everyone looked at the cyborg.
"Analysis of the Watchdog Man incident. Analysis of the gravity waves. Analysis of Sensei's 'Serious Table Flip' on Io. All gravitational anomalies vector toward a single point of origin."
Genos projected a hologram of the Moon. He zoomed in on the far side. The dark side.
There was a crater. But it wasn't a natural impact crater.
It was a fingerprint.
Specifically, the imprint of a spinal column. A massive, fetal imprint buried in the lunar dust. Like something was incubating inside the rock.
"The Moon isn't a rock," Genos said chillingly. "It is an egg."
Silence fell over the rooftop. They looked up at the pale moon hanging innocently in the sky.
"Well," Saitama stood up, crushing his empty soda can. "That explains the face I saw on it a while ago."
"You saw a face on the moon?" Blue asked, horrified.
"Yeah. It was kinda wrinkly. I poked it."
Blue stared at him. This man poked an incubating cosmic horror.
"We have to go there," Blue stood up, wiping his eyes. His armor hummed. "My suit... it tracks dimension warping energy. It's pointing straight up. If my father is hunting God, he'll be where God is hatching."
"Going to the Moon?" King swayed. "We just got back from space! Can't we just Zoom call him?"
"No," Saitama said. He looked at the moon. He felt it. A gaze. The same gaze that watched him in the Void.
It wasn't an enemy challenging him. It was a predator waiting for him to step into the cage.
"We're going," Saitama said. "Fubuki, do we still have the S.S. Discount?"
"It's being repaired," Fubuki said, her business mode re-engaging. "But Bofoi has a prototype. A trans-lunar shuttle."
"Prototype means it might explode," King pointed out.
"It means it's fast," Flashy Flash countered. "I'm in."
"Me too," Garou said. "I wanna punch the moon. I've always hated tides."
Blue looked at this mismatched group of freaks, cyborgs, and salary-men heroes.
"You're all insane," Blue said.
"We're the S-Class," Atomic Samurai grinned, picking his teeth with a chopstick. "Insanity is in the job description."