Compared to the heroes who were nearly collapsed from exhaustion, Flashy Flash—though wearing a chakra-weighted bracelet that drained far more energy than the others—was recovering more steadily thanks to his rigorous ninja training.
By the time the bus arrived at the hotel, he had regained enough strength to function normally. Instead of crashing into bed, he first prepared a restorative medicinal bath for himself, then soaked in the tub while examining the strange bracelet on his wrist.
One thing was clear: he had used countless training devices in the past, but none compared to the one provided by Swift Flash.
A weight-training tool that could affect an S-Class hero like him—and still be this compact and lightweight? It was even more unbelievable than Kizaru's strength itself, which had already pushed beyond the limits of humanity.
"…Even you don't recognize it, huh? Got it."
He had recorded the inscriptions on the bracelet and sent them to various researchers specializing in ancient languages and occult cultures. But every single one had replied the same: they had never seen these characters before.
It was as if the symbols had come from another world entirely.
After ending the call, Flashy Flash stared at the bracelet for a long moment. In the end, he slipped it back onto his wrist.
As that familiar weight settled in again, he closed his eyes and resumed resting.
Whether it came from another world or not—as long as it didn't harbor ill will toward this one, and it could make him stronger, that was good enough for him.
---
Elsewhere, in a private villa Kizaru had purchased, Blizzard was preparing a meal as thanks for him starting the training camp for the heroes and the Blizzard Group.
"You? Cooking? I wouldn't have guessed."
Kizaru watched her curiously, taking in her figure as she moved around in an apron. With a body like hers, even a plain apron somehow exuded a uniform-fetish vibe.
Shame their relationship hadn't advanced that far yet—they were still in the holding-hands-but-no-kissing phase. Otherwise, he'd definitely suggest she just wear the apron and give him a better view.
"When my sister and I used to live together, I was the one who always cooked…"
Blizzard sighed as she pulled a rack of freshly roasted lamb chops from the oven.
If she could, Fubuki honestly wished she could go back to when they were kids—back when Tatsumaki wasn't so domineering and harsh.
Back then, she'd follow her sister around like a little duckling. She might've looked like the older one on the outside, but whenever she was bullied, it was always Tatsumaki who stood up for her.
"Hm, not hard to understand, really," Kizaru said lazily. "With your sister's height, the kitchen must've been a bit of a challenge for her…"
He hadn't even finished speaking when a butter knife came flying in from outside the villa at breakneck speed—stopping less than a centimeter from his forehead.
Anyone else would've been scared witless, maybe even passed out cold. At the very least, they'd be rattled.
But Kizaru didn't even flinch. He stayed seated, completely unfazed, as if having a knife nearly skewer his brain was just another Tuesday.
"That's your warning," came Tatsumaki's voice as she floated in from outside, her expression full of righteous fury. "Make another joke about my height, and that knife will be in your skull."
Trailing behind her was a small cake box, levitating a foot or so above the ground.
"S-Sis?!"
Fubuki was stunned—she hadn't expected Tatsumaki to return so soon. Normally, when the sisters fought, Tatsumaki would disappear for days, sometimes longer.
But then she noticed the cake box behind her… and remembered.
Today was their shared birthday.
Because they had been taken into a research facility so young, neither of them knew their actual birthday. So the day they escaped—and gained their freedom—became the day they celebrated together each year.
But for the past few years, things had always gone wrong. Either they fought and parted ways, or Tatsumaki had something more "important" to do. The tradition had almost faded away entirely.
"Happy birthday, Fubuki."
Tatsumaki's face twitched a little, like she wasn't quite sure how to express what she was feeling.
She had just finished chewing Kizaru out, and now she had to conjure up a smile? Not easy.
"Sis…"
Fubuki was deeply moved. She stepped forward, trying to give her sister a hug—but was quickly and sternly rebuffed.
Getting hugged by her own little sister like that? Total disgrace. It wasn't Fubuki's fault she'd grown taller, but Tatsumaki still resented the difference.
"Hey, you—can't you see I'm trying to celebrate my sister's birthday here? What the hell are you still doing here?"
Tatsumaki glared daggers at Kizaru, who was calmly watching the scene unfold. She had been monitoring the villa for a while now and had caught this perv ogling her sister more than once.
She knew he was only into Fubuki for her looks—such shameless, disgusting behavior!
"Oh, really?"
But Kizaru only chuckled.
To her surprise, he raised his hands and clapped twice.
Instantly, every light in the villa and the surrounding area shut off, plunging the place into complete darkness.
Before Tatsumaki could react, multicolored lights blinked to life all around them, illuminating the villa's backyard and poolside. Dozens of fountains erupted skyward, launching brilliant plumes of silver sparks over three meters high.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
A series of fireworks exploded overhead, lighting up the sky with dazzling patterns.
And then, across the night sky, the words appeared—written in glittering pyrotechnics:
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FUBUKI!"
Before Tatsumaki and Fubuki could even recover from their shock, birthday music began playing inside the villa. Four members of the Blizzard Group wheeled out an absolutely massive birthday cake cart—easily over ten tiers tall—while the rest of the members who weren't at the training camp followed behind, singing "Happy Birthday" in unison.
The gap in treatment was just too glaring, and Tatsumaki's temper flared instantly—her hair literally began floating from rage. If Fubuki hadn't been holding her back with all her strength, Tatsumaki probably would've flown off in a fury and stormed out then and there.
"Come on, come on… It's your birthday too, isn't it?"
Fubuki smiled helplessly, doing her best to calm her sister down.
But looking at her sister shooting daggers at Kizaru with her eyes, she suddenly felt like… maybe this wasn't so bad.
With someone like Kizaru—a world-class provocation magnet—as a tank drawing all the aggro, even the Blizzard Group members suddenly didn't seem so annoying in Tatsumaki's eyes.
Of course, the main reason she didn't blow up on them was because they were celebrating Fubuki's birthday. Normally, with Tatsumaki's sky-high standards, she wouldn't even look at these so-called "B-class hobbyists."
"Don't think I don't know what you're scheming! Let me make this clear—dream on! I'll never agree to it!"
Fuming, Tatsumaki managed to sing the whole birthday song and let Fubuki make a wish, but the moment she had a chance while cutting the cake, she turned to Kizaru and growled through gritted teeth.
Fubuki was her only sister—her only family. In Tatsumaki's eyes, no one in this world was good enough for Fubuki. Certainly not some mysterious, shady guy like Kizaru.
If she weren't so wary of his power, she would've already thrown hands with him.
"Never agree to what? You mean me and Fubuki? Or me pursuing you?"
Kizaru's tone was casual, almost lazy—but there was no effort to hide the fact that he was aiming for both sisters. He made no secret of it.
It almost felt like déjà vu. He'd been in this situation before—with Nojiko, who had stood in front of him, vowing to "protect" her younger sister, Nami. In the end, though, it was Nojiko who fell for him first.
Unfortunately, Nojiko had no interest in joining the Marines. She just wanted to stay in the Village and help Bell-mère tend to the tangerine grove. So, in the end, Kizaru had to let her go and leave her behind.
Still, he had managed to return to the village a few times after that, and each time he paid a special visit to that blue-haired girl, rekindling old memories and revisiting the good times.
"I knew you were after Fubuki! There's no way I'll ever let you get anywhere near her!"
Tatsumaki snapped, her voice low but fierce, trying not to attract attention—but it was clear from her flushed face that her fury was starting to short-circuit into something else.
And then it hit her.
Wait… what did she just say?
Her sharp little face froze for a second, and then it flushed completely red—bright enough to catch fire.
"Hmm, sounds to me like Miss Tatsumaki is okay with me chasing you, then~"
Kizaru smiled, eyes lazily scanning her petite figure. He was used to being surrounded by bombshells like Hancock and Tsuru—women with curves like mountain ranges. Even Fubuki had a certain majestic beauty to her.
But Tatsumaki? She was small, sharp, and absolutely explosive. Something about that had its own kind of allure.
Okay, maybe "delicate" didn't quite apply to her personality, but "fiery" definitely did.
"Y-You… You pervert!"
Tatsumaki's face was now a full-on crimson, steam practically coming out of her ears.
Tatsumaki was stunned and furious, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. Her immense psychic energy flared up along with her emotions, surging like a stormy sea about to break.
Fortunately, her control was impeccable. Even in such a heated state, she kept the wild energy tightly reined in around her body. Fubuki, who was standing right next to her, didn't sense a thing.
That level of control alone put her leagues above Fubuki—and it was no wonder Fubuki always felt inferior around her older sister.
"Yup. I'm totally lusting after both of your bodies. I'm shameless."
Kizaru admitted it without hesitation, cool as ever. That was just the kind of man he was—bold, brazen, and shamelessly upfront.
Tatsumaki hadn't expected him to own up to it so openly. But staring at that flawless, disgustingly handsome face, all the scolding words she'd prepared got stuck in her throat. Her cheeks burned hotter and hotter, like they were about to catch fire.
Sure, she might look like an underage little loli on the outside, but Tatsumaki was actually a 28-year-old adult woman. Just a few more years and she'd technically qualify for "auntie" status. People her age already had kids running around.
Even if she wasn't as boy-crazy as someone like Hancock, that didn't mean she'd never thought about dating.
It was just that her overpowering presence—both physically and emotionally—meant no one had ever dared try to pursue her.
And with her haughty personality, even lower-ranked S-Class heroes didn't make the cut. That made Kizaru the first man to ever openly say he wanted to date her.
"Wait! If you're trying to date me, then why the hell are you still lusting after Fubuki?!"
Tatsumaki wasn't some clueless teenager. After a few seconds of stewing in embarrassment, she realized something was very off with Kizaru's statement.
She didn't mind having a suitor like Kizaru—powerful, handsome, and mysterious. Whether or not she accepted him was a separate issue, but it was kind of flattering.
But this guy? He had the gall to pursue her while also eyeing Fubuki?!
Shameless didn't even begin to cover it.
"Exactly. I am shameless. So, can I take that as a yes to me pursuing you?"
Kizaru raised a brow, flashing her a smug, knowing grin.
His morals—and his sense of shame—had always been extremely… flexible, especially in front of a girl he found interesting.
"No—wait! If you want to chase me, you have to stop going after Fubuki!"
Tatsumaki reflexively tried to shut him down… but after another glance at that dangerously handsome face—one that could charm 99% of women and a decent chunk of men—she found herself softening her stance without even realizing it.
To protect Fubuki, she'd just have to 'sacrifice' herself.
This guy was clearly no saint, and way too strong for his own good. Someone like him would be dangerous for Fubuki.
It was better for her, as the older sister, to deal with him herself.
"Oh? Then never mind, forget it."
What she didn't expect was that the moment she offered herself up like a hero in a tragedy, Kizaru would just casually turn her down—like it was nothing.
She almost choked on air.
"Wait a second! What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm not as good as Fubuki?!"
Tatsumaki grabbed the front of his shirt furiously. But no matter how mad she was, the height difference between them was still a thing. Even floating mid-air, she couldn't get enough leverage to lift him.
If Kizaru had stated from the start that he wanted to pursue her, Tatsumaki would've probably scoffed and brushed him off.
At most, she might've tossed him a half-hearted chance out of respect for his ridiculously handsome face.
But now? He was backing off on his own?
That pissed her off.
She was the number two S-Class hero—Tatsumaki the Tornado of Terror! She'd never been the one rejected—ever!
And now this damned Kizaru wanted to give up on her for Fubuki?!
°°°
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