Chapter 41: Hashira Training - Saitama Style
The sun peeked over the horizon, casting its soft morning glow over the training camp. The ground was still scarred from last night's battle, craters dotting the field like a giant had stomped around in frustration. The Hashira were gathered again, but this time, there was no opponent in front of them — only Saitama, standing there with his signature uninterested expression.
"Alright," Saitama said, clapping his hands lazily. "Let's start training."
Rengoku, ever the passionate one, stepped forward with fire in his eyes. "Sensei! What kind of special training will you bestow upon us?"
Saitama scratched his bald head. "Uh… the usual, I guess."
"Usual?" Giyu asked suspiciously.
"Yeah. My workout routine."
The Hashira leaned forward, expecting some ancient martial art secret, or some forbidden breathing technique.
"100 push-ups."
"100 sit-ups."
"100 squats."
"And a 10 km run. Every single day."
A silence thicker than Tanjiro's forehead settled over the camp.
"…That's it?" Mitsuri whispered, her disbelief visible.
"That's the secret to your strength?" Sanemi's vein popped on his forehead.
"Yup." Saitama yawned. "Oh, and eat three meals a day. And don't use the air conditioner in the summer or heater in the winter. Builds mental toughness."
"That's… so basic!" Zenitsu wailed. "Even a weakling like me could do that!"
"Yeah," Saitama nodded. "If you don't stop, and you keep doing it for years."
The Hashira all exchanged glances. It couldn't be that easy… right? But then they remembered how he slapped an Upper Moon into orbit, casually dodged Blood Demon Arts like they were flies, and broke time manipulation just by existing.
"Let's do it!" Rengoku shouted, flames practically bursting from his smile. "We will become stronger! Together!"
"Y-you're all crazy!" Zenitsu protested, but Inosuke already started doing push-ups aggressively beside him.
---
The Training Begins
The first hour was filled with enthusiasm. The Hashira, already masters of their bodies, easily handled the push-ups, squats, and sit-ups. The real challenge came with the 10 km run.
"This is nothing!" Sanemi shouted, leading the pack.
Except Saitama ran with them — at his casual jogging pace — and every single Hashira was left in the dust within seconds.
"HE'S NOT EVEN TRYING!" Mitsuri gasped, trying to catch her breath.
"WE NEED TO KEEP UP!" Rengoku bellowed, flames erupting from his feet as he pushed forward.
But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't even catch a glimpse of Saitama ahead.
---
Muzan's Lair
Far away, in the depths of his hideout, Muzan sat calmly, listening to Rokuro's trembling report. Her body was still mangled, healing slower than usual thanks to Saitama's overwhelming strength disrupting her regeneration.
"A bald man…" Muzan repeated slowly. "With impossible power."
"Yes, Lord Muzan! He resisted time itself! My Blood Demon Art was useless! His punch… it felt like reality itself rejected me!" Rokuro bowed so low her forehead scraped the stone floor.
Muzan's fingers tapped the armrest of his throne. "A being like that… does not belong in this world."
He stood, his red eyes gleaming. "Prepare all remaining Upper Moons. This 'Saitama' must be eliminated before he disrupts my plans further."
Rokuro swallowed. "Y-yes, my Lord!"
---
The Training Continues
After the brutal run (which left Zenitsu crying in a bush halfway), Saitama gathered everyone again.
"Alright," he said, stretching lazily. "Now I'll teach you my most important technique."
The Hashira leaned forward eagerly.
Saitama raised one finger. "The secret is… punch really hard."
There was another silence, followed by Sanemi screaming into the void in frustration.
"This guy's a lunatic!" Sanemi shouted.
"I agree," Giyu mumbled quietly.
Saitama just shrugged. "Hey, you asked. That's literally all I do."
Despite the ridiculousness, Tanjiro's eyes sparkled. "There's something deeper here. Saitama-san's strength comes not from just the techniques, but his absolute dedication to simplicity."
Saitama blinked. "Huh. Yeah, sure, let's go with that."
---
Evening: Combat Sparring
"Since you're all swordsmen, you need to practice fighting enemies stronger than you," Saitama said.
"Who will we spar against?" Mitsuri asked.
Saitama pointed at himself. "Me."
"No swords," Rengoku clarified. "Right?"
"You can use them," Saitama waved lazily. "Won't matter."
The Hashira looked at each other. This was either going to be the greatest training of their lives… or pure humiliation.
It was both.
Rengoku went first, flames roaring, sword slashing faster than lightning. Saitama casually caught the blade with two fingers.
"You should polish the edges," Saitama said, inspecting the sword like a bored shopper. "It's kinda dull."
Rengoku burst into tears — of respect and frustration.
One by one, they fought him. Giyu's Water Breathing, Mitsuri's Love Breathing, Sanemi's Wind Breathing — none of it even made Saitama blink. He dodged, caught, and redirected everything with no effort.
"Can we even… win against Muzan like this?" Tanjiro whispered.
"Of course!" Saitama said. "Just punch him really hard."
Zenitsu fainted.
---
End of Chapter 41