A bright, cluttered kitchen bathed in the warm glow of a single overhead light. The faint hum of the refrigerator is the only sound that breaks the otherwise quiet atmosphere. Saitama, casually dressed in his usual white T-shirt and shorts, is rummaging through the fridge for leftovers, his expression as blank as always.
Nearby, a tiny mosquito flits through the air, its wings buzzing with a high-pitched hum as it spots its target. Saitama, oblivious to the impending threat, pulls out a container of curry, ready to dig in. The mosquito hovers closer, its tiny eyes gleaming with the
Saitama opens the curry container, reaching for a spoon, when he feels a tiny sting on the back of his neck. He freezes.
(voice flat, with barely a hint of surprise) "Huh?"
Before he can react, the mosquito sinks its needle-like proboscis into his neck, feeding. Saitama's eyes narrow slightly, and with a flick of his wrist, he attempts to swat the mosquito. His hand moves so fast that it creates a shockwave, snapping the kitchen lightbulb in the process. The mosquito dodges just in time, zipping away, leaving a frustrated Saitama behind.
(sighs) "Really?"
The mosquito, undeterred, buzzes around in a zigzag pattern, seemingly taunting him as it prepares for another strike.
Saitama rubs the back of his neck, annoyed. He swats again—but this time, the mosquito dodges with uncanny speed, its tiny body darting around his hand like a blur. Saitama's eyes follow it, and in a rare display of focus, he lunges forward. His fist swings through the air, tearing the space around him with a shockwave so strong that it knocks over a shelf, sending plates and cups flying. The mosquito, however, zips to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow.
(annoyed) "Okay, that's it."
The mosquito circles back in for another bite, this time aiming for his forehead. Saitama's eyes flicker, and with a smooth motion, he attempts to slap it out of the air. But the mosquito dodges again—so fast that it almost seems like it's anticipating his moves. Saitama stands there, stunned for a moment, before launching into a series of rapid, calculated slaps. Each one creates a gust of wind so strong that it rattles the windows, but the mosquito continues to evade every single attempt.
His irritation grows. This tiny mosquito is the first thing that's really dodged his punches. The kitchen is now a disaster—plates are shattered, counters cracked, and dust fills the air like fog. Saitama takes a deep breath and slaps his hands together, creating another shockwave that shakes the entire room. The mosquito, still dodging, barely flinches as it zips out of the way.
(gritting his teeth, frustrated) "This is ridiculous."
He takes a step back, clenches his fists, and then dashes forward with a speed that shatters the air around him. His punch rips through the space where the mosquito just was, but it's too late. The mosquito has already zipped out of the way, as though it knows his every move.
(irritated) "This little bug...!"
He stops for a moment, realizing this isn't just some trivial annoyance anymore. This mosquito has dodged every single attack he's thrown. Saitama's usual air of indifference gives way to a rare feeling of frustration. He doesn't want to be outdone by an insect.
The Kitchen Becomes a Battlefield:
Saitama's determination grows. His fists swing faster and harder now, each blow causing the air to rip apart. But no matter how fast he moves, the mosquito keeps slipping away. It zips around him, seemingly enjoying the chaos it's creating.
With a sudden, fluid motion, Saitama throws a devastating right hook, sending shockwaves that break through the walls and floor. Yet, the mosquito is already a blur in the opposite direction—unscathed, unbothered.
Saitama stops, panting for breath. He's never been pushed this far by a single opponent before. His fists feel heavy as he stares at the tiny insect, realizing he's never had to fight this hard just to kill something so small.
The mosquito hovers just out of reach now, as if sensing the struggle in Saitama. He stands amidst the wreckage of the kitchen, sweat dripping from his forehead, his body aching from the relentless assault. He's never been this tired from a fight before.
The mosquito, now buzzing confidently, makes one last pass—this time heading straight for Saitama's neck once again.
With a swift motion, the mosquito lands on him and starts to feed once more. Saitama's face twitches, but he barely moves—he's too tired to care anymore.
The mosquito finishes its feast, hovering in front of him, seemingly mocking him with its buzz. Saitama's head droops slightly, his energy completely spent. His usual indifference fades to exhaustion, his body unable to keep up the pace anymore. He stares at the tiny insect, a feeling of disbelief washing over him.
(defeated, muttering) "I… I can't believe this..."
The mosquito flies away, leaving a defeated Saitama sitting amidst the wreckage of the kitchen. The entire room is in ruins, but the tiny mosquito is now the only winner. Saitama, breathing heavily, leans back against the counter, his pride in tatters.
(under his breath) "...I need to find something else to eat..."
And with that, the mosquito flies into the night, leaving the great hero to lick his wounds—humiliated by the most unexpected opponent he's ever faced.