Uchiha Madara stepped out of the Hero Association headquarters, the automatic glass doors sliding shut behind him with a hiss. The concrete city buzzed with activity—cars sped down the wide roads, civilians bustled past on the sidewalks, and neon signs flashed with advertisements ranging from Hero merch to caffeine-fueled energy drinks.
Despite the unfamiliar world, Madara walked with the same calm poise that had once shaken the shinobi nations.
He spotted a small ramen restaurant tucked under a cracked billboard and entered. The air inside was thick with the aroma of pork broth and roasted scallions. Madara slid into a corner booth and ordered the largest serving of pork ribs ramen on the menu.
Prices here were absurdly high compared to Japan—or rather, the "eastern world," as he now understood it—but Madara wasn't bothered. After all, with the Hero Association compensating him handsomely for his cooperation, money wasn't an issue. And even if it were, he could always "convince" the system another way.
The steaming bowl arrived, glistening with fat and flavor. Madara had just lifted his chopsticks when the door jingled open again.
In walked a man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit with red gloves and boots. What stood out, more than anything, was the complete absence of hair on his shiny bald head.
"Boss, five bowls of char siu ramen," the man said nonchalantly.
Madara blinked. That face… the plain expression… the unimpressive aura… and yet the very memory of him was absurdly unforgettable.
"No way… is that really Saitama?" Madara murmured, half to himself.
Saitama turned toward the sound, eyes lighting up with curiosity. "Huh? You know me?"
A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. "Could you be… a fan?!"
Just as Madara was about to respond, another figure appeared—metal limbs gleaming, cybernetic eyes scanning the room. Genos, the Demon Cyborg, took the seat beside Saitama with stoic grace.
"Ah, Genos, you're here," Saitama said casually. "Look, I finally have a fan."
Genos gave Madara a quick once-over, scanning his vitals and power level. The analysis returned inconclusive results.
"Ordinary," Genos concluded silently. "No immediate threat."
Still, just to be safe, he marked Madara with a passive 'non-hostile' tag in his internal log.
"Are you a fan of my teacher?" Genos asked, expression flat as usual.
Madara didn't reply directly. Instead, he slurped a mouthful of ramen and glanced at Saitama.
So, the real One Punch Man… up close, he seemed almost disappointingly normal. No flair, no overwhelming aura. If Madara hadn't known better, he'd have dismissed him outright.
"I suppose I just wanted to confirm your existence," Madara muttered.
Saitama blinked, confused but flattered. "Hey, that still counts as a fan!"
Madara continued eating, his thoughts drifting. According to All Might, the world was split—My Hero Academia's universe to the east, and One Punch Man's to the west.
"If that's true," Madara thought, "what lies in the north and south? More parallel worlds? More powerhouses?"
He mentally bookmarked the thought for later.
Saitama, meanwhile, had devoured three bowls of ramen while Madara was still on his first. The Uchiha stared at the empty dishes, eyes narrowing slightly.
"How is that even possible?" he muttered.
"You still in school?" Saitama asked casually, wiping his mouth.
"On internship," Madara replied, stuffing another bite into his mouth.
Saitama tilted his head. "Huh, but you look like you're in junior high or something."
Madara ignored the jab and flipped the conversation. "What brings you here?"
"Hero exam," Saitama said, holding up a finger with childlike pride.
"It's the Hero Association qualifying exam, teacher," Genos corrected him.
"Yeah, that," Saitama chuckled.
Madara wiped his mouth, rising from the seat. "Then I suppose we'll be seeing each other again soon."
"Wait, why would we—" Saitama began, but by the time he looked up, Madara was already gone.
With nothing urgent calling his attention, Madara wandered through the city streets, quietly observing its blend of advanced tech and strange culture. Eventually, the heat grew unbearable, and he ducked into a stylish coffee shop with air-conditioning and plush seats.
He ordered a black coffee and a slice of chocolate cake and took a seat by the window, sipping slowly as he thought.
"Did Saitama say he was taking the exam today? If he passes—and he definitely will—our paths will converge again," Madara mused.
He took a bite of cake, savoring the rich sweetness. "Assuming the events in this world follow the original timeline… then Sweet Mask should also be active."
Just as he finished the thought, the café door jingled.
A tall man walked in wearing sunglasses and a neatly pressed designer outfit. Behind him, a petite woman carried a thick folder and tried to keep pace.
"Sir, this is your itinerary for today," she said, voice businesslike.
"Cancel all of it," the man waved dismissively. "I need a break."
"But—"
"I'll handle it later," he snapped, then gestured toward the counter. "Two cappuccinos. One without sugar."
The murmur among the other patrons rose in pitch.
"Is that… Sweet Mask?!"
"Oh my god, it's really him!"
"He looks even more perfect in person!"
Madara raised a brow at the excited whispers. So the idol hero was really that popular.
He turned slightly and locked eyes with Sweet Mask, whose smile flickered as recognition struck.
"That kid…" Sweet Mask frowned. "He's the one who beat Snake yesterday."
The hero's gaze sharpened into cold disdain.
"A recruit like him? What a joke. Nothing but a pretender."
His assistant noticed his expression and followed his line of sight. "Is something wrong?"
"No," Sweet Mask said with a scoff. "Just a trash fish."
Madara, still savoring the last bite of his cake, didn't even spare him another glance.
The afternoon drifted lazily by. Still no contact from Snake. Either the A-Class hero was embarrassed by yesterday's defeat, or the Association had quietly told him to stay away. Either way, Madara didn't mind. He could learn more here simply by observing.
He paid for his coffee, stepped out into the late-day sun, and pulled his cloak tighter.
As Madara walked off into the evening, a few key thoughts lingered in his mind.
This world—like the last—was riddled with strong and weak, light and shadow, fame and deception. Heroes here were worshipped like gods, yet few of them lived up to the name.
And then there was Saitama.
No presence, no glory, no recognition… yet a force unlike any other.
Madara smirked.
"Interesting. This world might have something worth my time after all."
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A/N: New Fanfic Is Out "I'm A Bit Different Naruto Uzumaki"
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