The next morning arrived quickly, sunlight filtering gently through the estate's paper windows. Tanjiro, Zenitsu, and Inosuke woke up early, dressed in their best uniforms for the Hashira Meeting — an event where only the highest-ranking Demon Slayers gathered.
Saitama, on the other hand, was still asleep, sprawled out in a way that made it seem like he had fought a great battle in his dreams — except he was snoring, loudly, with his cape tangled around his legs.
"SAITAMA-SAN! WAKE UP!" Tanjiro shook him desperately.
"...Five more minutes," Saitama muttered, turning over.
"We can't be late! The Hashira will be there!"
"Who?"
"The strongest Demon Slayers," Tanjiro explained, already sweating. "They're kind of… intimidating."
"Oh." Saitama yawned, sitting up and scratching his head. "Do they have snacks?"
Tanjiro had no words for that.
---
The Hashira stood in a perfect circle at the meeting ground, their presence as intense as ever. Each of them radiated their unique aura — Giyu Tomioka's quiet stillness, Shinobu Kocho's unsettling smile, Sanemi Shinazugawa's restless hostility, and Gyomei Himejima's solemn silence, beads clutched in prayer.
Flame Hashira Rengoku Kyojuro stood proud and beaming, his energy infectious as always.
"We're gathered here today," Ubuyashiki began softly, "because an unprecedented event has occurred. An Upper Moon was defeated… by a single man."
The Hashira exchanged glances.
"Which one of us was it?" Sanemi cracked his knuckles. "That's one hell of a flex."
Ubuyashiki's smile grew slightly amused. "It was not a Hashira. It was… a guest."
All eyes shifted toward the entrance, where Tanjiro nervously led Saitama into the courtyard. The bald man stepped forward, wearing his hero suit, his expression utterly… blank.
"This guy?!" Sanemi barked, disbelief in his voice. "Is this a joke?"
Saitama raised a hand lazily. "Yo."
The Hashira were frozen, unsure if this was an elaborate prank or something they weren't prepared for. Giyu's eyes narrowed slightly, sensing something off about the man — his presence was empty, like staring into a void.
"Ah, Saitama-san!" Rengoku's voice burst out, his ever-present enthusiasm shining. "You look powerful! You must train your body constantly!"
"Not really," Saitama replied. "I just do a little workout."
"Such modesty!" Rengoku laughed loudly, slapping Saitama's back — and immediately recoiling, his hand stinging like he'd hit solid steel. "What?!"
Shinobu stepped forward, her smile unsettling. "What kind of breathing technique do you use, Saitama-san?"
"Breathing technique?"
"Yes! Water Breathing, Flame Breathing, Insect Breathing —"
Saitama blinked slowly. "...I just breathe normally."
The Hashira stared.
"He's mocking us," Sanemi growled, already drawing his sword. "This bald clown can't be serious."
"I'm not mocking you," Saitama said. "I just don't need special breathing to punch things."
"Liar," Sanemi snapped. "If you really defeated an Upper Moon, show us your strength right here."
"Don't!" Tanjiro panicked. "Saitama-san's strength is… beyond what we can imagine."
"It's fine," Saitama yawned, stepping forward. "If it shuts you up, I'll show you."
Sanemi's face twisted into a grin. "That's what I wanted to hear."
The other Hashira stepped back, watching closely. Even Muichiro Tokito, who rarely cared about meetings, raised an eyebrow with mild curiosity.
Sanemi dashed forward, sword flashing — the Wind Hashira's speed was legendary. His blade cut the air, aiming for Saitama's side.
Saitama didn't move.
The sword struck his suit — and shattered.
"...What?" Sanemi's pupils shrank.
"Oh." Saitama looked down at the broken sword piece sticking off his waist. "You guys need better weapons."
Sanemi stumbled back, speechless. The Hashira's strongest swords — meant to cut demons like butter — had just… broken.
"What… are you?" Giyu finally spoke, his voice quiet but serious.
"Just a guy who's a hero for fun," Saitama said, his tone completely casual.
The weight of his words settled in the air like a stone dropping into a pond. For a moment, the Hashira, warriors who had faced impossible odds and trained their whole lives, were silent — not from anger or fear, but from the sheer absurdity of it all.
A man with no breathing technique, no swordsmanship, and no demon-slaying training had surpassed them all.
"...I like him!" Rengoku roared, his laughter echoing. "He is unique! We can learn from him!"
"But he's so plain!" Tengen Uzui complained. "Where's the flashiness?"
"I don't need flashy," Saitama shrugged. "I just punch."
"What kind of punch could defeat an Upper Moon?" Mitsuri Kanroji asked curiously.
"A regular punch," Saitama replied. "I didn't even try hard."
The Hashira all stared.
"He's either a god… or a complete idiot," Shinobu whispered to Giyu.
"Maybe both," Giyu muttered.
Ubuyashiki smiled softly, eyes closed. "Saitama-san, though your methods are different, I welcome you to fight alongside us."
"Cool," Saitama said. "Where's the food?"
---
Later that day, the Hashira still couldn't process what they'd witnessed. Sanemi kept glaring at his broken sword, unable to accept reality. Rengoku, on the other hand, invited Saitama to "A Friendly Sparring Session," which Saitama declined because "he didn't want to break anyone else's toys."
As the sun began to set, a raven flew overhead, bringing a new message:
A new Upper Moon had been sighted — and this one was different.
It wasn't hiding.
It was challenging all Demon Slayers directly.
The era of quiet shadows was over. A storm was coming — and at the center stood a bald man in a cape, eating rice balls.
---
End of Chapter 10