Chapter 43: Saitama vs Upper Moons – The Opening Blow
The air between Saitama and the Upper Moons shimmered with unspoken tension. Every Hashira could feel it — the clash of monstrous demonic energy against… nothing. No breathing technique. No aura. Saitama stood completely still, hands in his pockets, bald head reflecting the afternoon sun.
"This is weird," Mitsuri whispered, her grip tightening on her whip-sword. "He's not even in a stance."
"It's like…" Giyuu's voice was low, his face more serious than usual. "He doesn't need one."
Akaza's lips curled into a sharp grin. "You humiliated my comrades. You shattered our pride. I will repay you in kind, Baldy."
Saitama tilted his head. "Oh, are we fighting now? Cool. Let's get this over with, I'm hungry."
Without warning, Akaza vanished.
Rengoku's eyes widened. "He's fast!"
In less than a blink, Akaza appeared directly in front of Saitama, his fist already mid-swing. A blow strong enough to collapse a mountain. A strike honed through centuries of brutal combat. A killing blow.
It landed square on Saitama's face.
CRACK!
The earth beneath Saitama's feet split open like shattered glass, the shockwave tearing through the clearing. Trees bent backward, the Hashira bracing themselves against the force. Dust filled the air in a choking cloud.
Doma clapped cheerfully. "Oh my, what a punch! I could feel that from here."
But when the dust settled, Akaza's smirk was gone.
Saitama stood there. Unmoved. His face expressionless, untouched — except for a faint handprint on his cheek, like someone had tapped him instead of punched.
"That's it?" Saitama blinked. "You trained for 100 years for that?"
Akaza's mind raced. That punch had shattered dozens of Demon Slayers before. What… was this man made of?
"Well," Saitama shrugged, "guess it's my turn."
He raised his fist.
There was no stance, no buildup, no breathing technique — just a casual punch aimed at Akaza's chest.
Akaza's instincts screamed. Every fiber of his being howled in warning. He leapt back, but it was too late.
BOOM.
The punch didn't hit Akaza directly — but the mere shockwave of it traveling through the air obliterated his left arm and sent him rocketing backward, crashing through trees like a ragdoll.
"Eh?" Doma blinked. "That wasn't even a direct hit! How… fascinating."
The Hashira stood frozen. Even Sanemi, usually loud and brash, could only gape. "What kind of monster is this guy?"
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Doma Joins the Fray
But Doma didn't wait. His fans flashed out, unleashing a rain of Frozen Lotus Petals, each petal sharper than a blade and colder than death. They filled the air, turning the battlefield into a blizzard of death.
Saitama… didn't move.
The petals slashed into him from every direction — but rather than cutting flesh, they shattered on contact, exploding like brittle glass against steel skin. Doma's smile faltered.
"Wow," Saitama muttered, brushing off the frost that gathered on his sleeve. "You guys really love fancy attacks."
Before Doma could respond, Saitama vanished — appearing in front of him instantly. Doma barely had time to widen his eyes before Saitama's finger flicked forward, lightly tapping Doma on the forehead.
CRACK.
Doma's head snapped backward so fast his neck almost broke, his body skidding across the ground in a spiral of dirt and snow. Blood dripped from his nose — the first time in centuries anyone had drawn his blood.
"That's… not possible," Doma whispered, tasting his own blood with disbelief. "I'm an Upper Moon. My body is practically indestructible."
"Indestructible?" Saitama scratched his head. "Nah. You guys just never met anyone who can actually punch."
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The Hashira's Realization
Mitsuri clutched her chest, overwhelmed with excitement. "He's so strong! So effortlessly strong!"
Even Obanai, ever suspicious, couldn't hide his amazement. "He's not using any breathing. No demon slayer techniques. He's just… strong."
Rengoku's eyes blazed with admiration. "This is true strength. Not from tricks or techniques — but from sheer will and effort!"
But amidst the awe, Giyuu spoke quietly. "This is why Muzan fears him."
The realization spread through the Hashira like cold water down their spines. If Saitama could do this to Upper Moons, what would happen when he faced Muzan himself?
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Akaza's Rage
Akaza stood, regenerating his arm with gritted teeth. His pride burned brighter than his pain.
"I refuse…" Akaza growled. "I refuse to believe this bald clown is stronger than me!"
His tattoos glowed crimson, his power surging — entering Destructive Death: Ultimate Form. The ground shattered under his feet as he launched himself at Saitama once more, fists blurring into a hurricane of death.
Saitama sighed. "You really like punching, huh?"
He countered every blow with a single finger. Tap. Tap. Tap. Each strike Akaza threw was redirected or deflected with ease, as if Saitama was toying with a child.
"Alright," Saitama's expression turned slightly more serious. "Time to end this warm-up."
He caught Akaza's wrist mid-punch — and squeezed.
CRACK.
Akaza's entire arm shattered into dust. Before he could scream, Saitama raised his free hand and delivered a light punch to Akaza's chest.
BOOM.
Akaza's body shot backward, crashing through three mountains, carving a crater through the earth. Even his demonic regeneration struggled to keep up with the sheer trauma.
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Doma's Last Gamble
Doma, realizing Akaza's defeat was imminent, grinned. "Well, if brute force doesn't work…"
He opened his mouth wide, releasing a thick mist — a poison fog capable of killing even the strongest slayers within seconds. It spread rapidly, swallowing the entire clearing.
"Oops," Doma giggled. "I forgot to mention — breathing this means instant death!"
The Hashira immediately activated their breathing techniques, trying to filter the poison.
But Saitama? He stood there, breathing normally. "Smells kinda minty."
The poison had zero effect.
Doma's smile cracked. "You're kidding me."
Saitama took a step forward, and Doma took a step back.
"Let me teach you something," Saitama said, voice calm. "Sometimes… all you need…"
He cocked back his fist.
"…is a normal punch."
BOOM.
Doma's body exploded into mist, leaving only his severed head rolling across the dirt — wide-eyed and smiling in disbelief even as it dissolved into ash.
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The Hashira's Silence
The battlefield was silent. No one cheered. No one spoke.
Because they finally understood — this man was not just a hero.
He was a force of nature.
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End of Chapter 43