Chapter 126: Sweet Mask

In the late afternoon, a line of cars pulled up outside the Hero Association Headquarters.

The sound of the engines quietly hummed as the doors of one of the cars swung open.

A tall, lean man with a muscular build stepped out gracefully. He looked at the tall building in front of him in silence as men in black suits moved swiftly to secure the area.

"Wait... is that...?"

"Oh my god!"

Passersby froze in place, their gazes locked on the figure who had just arrived. Gasps of recognition rippled through the crowd, their eyes sparkling with a mix of disbelief and adoration.

He was a man with messy, shoulder-length light blue hair, one striking strand hanging perfectly down the center of his face. His sharp yellow eyes scanned the growing crowd with a calm, almost knowing expression.

"It's him! A-class Hero, Handsomely Masked Sweet Mask!"

"Kyaa! Sweet Mask, please look at me!" screamed a girl in the crowd, her voice trembling with excitement.

With a gentle smile, Sweet Mask waved.

The small gesture sent the gathering crowd into a frenzy, their screams and cheers filling the air. Fans pushed forward, phones raised high, desperate to capture a glimpse of the infamous hero.

With the security team clearing his path, Sweet Mask walked gracefully into the Hero Association Headquarters.

The echo of adoring screams faded behind him as he made his way inside, his smile gradually vanishing as the long corridor stretched before him.

"An S-Class without consulting me?" he muttered under his breath.

He had received word that a new S-Class hero had been inducted without his input, and a flicker of dissatisfaction crept into his expression. Sweet Mask had purposefully remained the top hero in A-Class to prevent unqualified individuals from easily entering the ranks of the prestigious S-Class.

"S-Class heroes have massive influence over the image of all heroes," he reminded himself, his brow furrowing. The Hero Association had notified him, but Sweet Mask wasn't about to let this slide if the newly minted hero was unworthy of the rank.

His footsteps quickened as he approached the office of the Minister Officer of Justice, "We can't afford to be lenient with their qualifications..." 

"Oh, Sweet Mask, you finally come..."

Inside the office, the minister, Stitch, acknowledged him with a nod. Sweet Mask nodded back before taking a seat on the plush sofa and crossing his legs.

"Minister, I trust you have a good reason for this?"

His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable edge. "As far as I recall, you usually seek my second opinion when someone is up for promotion to S-Class."

"Ah, yeah, you must've come for this, huh?"

Stitch sighed, rubbing his temples before gesturing to Busho, who was standing nearby. Busho nodded and activated a screen on the wall.

Footage began to play, capturing the events that had transpired, events that had led to the sudden induction of the new S-Class hero.

Sweet Mask's eyes narrowed as he focused intently on the video.

"I see," he muttered. "I can understand why you allowed this young man into the S-Class. However, I would appreciate it if my opinion were sought in the fut—"

"Minister! It's an emergency!"

The door burst open with a loud bang, startling everyone in the room.

A frazzled employee, drenched in sweat, staggered inside, his exhaustion evident in his heaving breaths.

"..."

The heavy atmosphere that had just started to form thickened even more, and all eyes turned to the newcomer.

Sweet Mask furrowed his brow at the sudden intrusion.

The employee, however, seemed oblivious to the discomfort in the room.

His urgent steps brought him to Stitch, pausing briefly to nod at Sweet Mask before hurriedly leaning in to whisper to the minister, "Lady Shibabawa has passed away after foreseeing a future calamity…"

"...What?"

Stitch's face drained of color, his eyes widening in disbelief.

The gravity of the news sent a shiver through the room. Lady Shibabawa's prophecies had always been chillingly accurate, and for her to choke to death during such a revelation meant that something truly catastrophic was looming.

Stitch exchanged a grim glance with Busho, his voice heavy with worry. "We need to gather everyone ASAP!"

"Looks like I'll be meeting that new S-Class sooner than expected..."

Sweet furrowed his brow in deep thought. He hadn't anticipated such a shift in events, but perhaps this upcoming gathering would give him the perfect opportunity to evaluate the new S-Class hero in person.

The next morning, Saitama awoke to the mouthwatering aroma wafting from the kitchen. His sleepy eyes snapped wide open, and in an instant, he bolted out of bed.

As he made his way to the kitchen, he saw Genos standing at the sink washing the dishes.

"Good morning, Sensei," Genos greeted without turning around.

"Oh, morning, Genos!" Saitama replied. His eyes lit up as he spotted the breakfast spread on the table, which looked like it had come straight out of a five-star restaurant's glossy food magazine.

The sight of the perfectly plated dishes made his mouth water uncontrollably.

"Haha, taking in Tsuna was seriously the best decision I've ever made," Saitama muttered to himself between bites, thoroughly enjoying the meal.

Since Tsuna had moved in with them, their meals had been unbelievably delicious, leaving Saitama wondering how he'd ever survive going back to the bland, instant-food-filled days of before.

Even Genos, with his highly advanced cyborg mind, seemed at a loss for words when it came to describing the food.

As Saitama continued to happily devour his breakfast, a sudden realization hit him. He glanced over at Genos, still focused on the dishes.

"Hey, where's Tsuna, by the way?" he asked, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth.

"He went out hunting..."

"...Hunting?" Saitama blinked in confusion, the word sinking in slowly. "Wait... to what?"

He stared blankly, trying to make sense of what Genos had just said.

Ring, ring!

Before Saitama could ask any further questions, the sound of the apartment bell echoed through the room. He scratched his head in confusion, mumbling to himself, "Someone ringing the bell? That's so rare..."

Living in a mostly abandoned part of the city, visitors were an anomaly—so much so that Saitama could barely remember the last time anyone had come by. He shuffled toward the door and opened it to find an elderly man with a slight hunch standing at the entrance.

"Oh! You're..." Saitama squinted, his eyes locking onto the man's spiky white hair, bushy white eyebrows, and thick mustache as his eyes widened in recognition before opening his mouth, "...Uh, who are you again?"

He blinked blankly, unable to place the name.