—From Sunlight to Sparks—
The sun crept over the horizon, casting golden hues across Z-City. The light seeped in through the apartment windows, gently bathing everything in a warm glow.
Inside Saitama's apartment, the usual morning routine had begun—well, for at least two of the three residents.
Genos stood in the kitchen, already dressed in his sleeveless black attire and white apron, humming softly as he prepared breakfast. A pot of rice steamed on the stove, eggs sizzled in a pan, and the kettle let out a low whistle.
Behind him, Saitama lay sprawled out on his futon, snoring lightly, one leg sticking out from under the blanket and his pillow halfway off the bed. He was completely unbothered by the new day.
In the corner of the apartment, Damian stood shirtless in front of a mirror, adjusting the look of his sleek, black, sleeveless shirt as it shimmered into existence. Nanite particles zipped and flowed like liquid metal as his Vibranium-infused Super Suit transformed into casual clothing.
He inspected the crimson red sun sigil etched into his chest. His black pants adjusted perfectly to his size, molded with a tailored finish that made the outfit feel like a top fashion house designed it.
"Alright…" he said to himself, brushing a hand through his jet-black hair. "Lunch with a beautiful woman… then sparring with my master, One Punch Man."
He cracked a confident smirk. "Big day ahead. Let's hope both go well."
He turned from the mirror and picked up his custom Hero Association phone. Glancing at the time, he had a few hours to kill before the lunch date. And there was no better place to start the day than at the edge of the atmosphere, basking in solar radiation.
Genos looked over his shoulder. "Are you heading out, Damian?"
"Yeah, going up to get some sun and then a lunch date. I'll be back after for training. Did Saitama say we're still good for the sparring session?"
Genos nodded. "Of course. I'll make sure Master is awake by then."
From his futon, Saitama lazily raised a hand and mumbled, "Yeah, yeah… have fun kissing or whatever. Just don't be late for training."
Damian chuckled, grabbing his Hero License and slipping it into his back pocket. "Got it. Catch you guys later."
He slid open the window, stepped casually onto the sill, and with a gust of wind at his heels, launched himself into the morning sky—leaving behind a brief shimmer of golden light in his wake.
But instead of heading straight for the atmosphere to sunbathe, Damian made a small detour.
"Might as well look sharp," he muttered to himself.
A few minutes later, he landed outside one of Z-City's top barbershops, the bell above the door chiming as he stepped in. It was time for a fresh cut—and to make sure he looked his absolute best for his first official date with Fubuki.
15 minutes later...The Barber finished the final touches...
Stepping out of the Barbershop, Damian waved goodbye to the Shop owner, taking a picture with the Barbers. Turning around, he headed down the street with a fierce and determined look. "New haircut, new adventure..."
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Then, a slight crackle, boom, he shot up into the sky...
Some time later...Lunch time…
The scent of sizzling meat filled the air, thick with savory aromas and the soft hum of jazz playing in the background.
A private booth nestled in the VIP section of Z-City's finest Korean BBQ restaurant had been reserved for one particular guest.
Fubuki, dressed in an elegant black form-fitting dress, sat across from Damian, her posture poised—but her nerves running wild.
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Her emerald eyes flicked to the menu more often than necessary, trying to stay composed. Her makeup was flawless, her perfume subtle yet captivating. But beneath that cool exterior, her heart thudded in her chest like a war drum.
Damian, on the other hand, was the picture of calm confidence. Dressed in stylish black pants and a form-fitting shirt—marked with a red sun insignia—he leaned slightly over the grill, using silver tongs to flip a piece of marinated beef.
"So…" he began casually, "how often do you eat here?
Fubuki looked up too quickly, bumping her chopsticks off the edge of the plate. "Oh—uh, not often," she said, laughing nervously. "I usually just order in... work is always... busy, you know?"
Damian raised an eyebrow playfully. "So the leader of the Blizzard Group has time for a lunch date? I'm honored."
She blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "T-This is strictly professional. Two heroes… exchanging contact info. Networking."
"Right. Definitely feels like work," he teased, watching her try to hide behind her glass of soju.
Fubuki, seeking courage, took another sip. The warmth of the drink was helping her loosen up. Her earlier nerves had slowly faded—Damian's kindness and maturity had a calming effect. His age hadn't crossed her mind since they started eating. Not once.
They chatted, laughed, and grilled their own food. Damian was surprisingly skilled with chopsticks, and his charm continued effortlessly. Every now and then, their knees bumped under the table. Once… then twice.
On the third time, something changed.
Damian's leg shifted forward, gently pressing against hers. It might have been accidental—at first—but when Fubuki returned the motion, brushing her calf against his with deliberate slowness, he didn't move away.
She leaned slightly forward now, her eyes half-lidded. "You know… I think I underestimated you, Damian."
"Most people do," he said smoothly, his voice dipping low.
She smiled, biting her lip. One drink had turned to two. Her nerves were gone. In their place? Heat.
Under the table, her foot slid upward along his leg. Slowly. Teasingly.
Damian's gaze flickered toward her flushed cheeks, her elevated heart rate clear to him through his enhanced vision. Her aura—normally composed and cool—now sparked like static against his own. He liked the feeling.
Seizing the moment, Damian slid across the booth to sit beside her. He reached for her hand, his other hand gently lifting her chin.
She blinked—caught off guard—but didn't resist.
He kissed her.
It was slow, confident, and disarmingly intimate.
Fubuki's breath hitched at first—then melted into the moment, her fingers tightening around his. This was what she had been thinking about since she texted him last night. Since she laid eyes on him in person. Since he saved her. The kiss was everything.
And yet—just outside the restaurant—
Floating a few meters above the street, Tatsumaki crossed her arms.
She'd been gliding through Z-City, minding her own business, when she noticed several of her sister's subordinates stationed suspiciously outside a fancy-looking establishment. Her interest piqued.
"Hmph. She's not out fighting monsters. She's having lunch?" she muttered.
Tatsumaki narrowed her eyes, descending slowly, scowling at the door.
"I swear, if she's wasting time again…"
She landed silently just beyond the glass doors, preparing to burst in with her usual explosive flair.
Meanwhile at lunch,
As Damian and Fubuki pulled away from their passionate kiss, a thin strand of saliva still connected their lips. Fubuki's eyes fluttered open slowly, her breath shallow, heart pounding like a drum inside her chest. Her emerald eyes locked with Damian's intense blue gaze—eyes that shimmered with heat and primal confidence.
Damian's hand gently brushed her cheek as he whispered, "Hey… this room's private, right?"
Fubuki, still lost in the haze of adrenaline and desire, nodded with hesitation. "Y-Yeah… but… what if a waiter—?"
"Don't worry," Damian said smoothly, his voice low and reassuring. He took her hand in his, firm and guiding. His warmth surged through her fingers as he pulled her gently from the booth.
Her heart raced.
With each step, her mind screamed this was too fast—but her body, flushed and tingling, didn't protest. She wanted this.
They slipped into the private restroom at the far end of the room, the soft click of the door echoing behind them. A glowing red lock symbol blinked into place. Privacy guaranteed.
The space was warm and dimly lit—clean, luxurious, the kind of place reserved for VIP guests and top-tier heroes. Damian turned toward her, eyes locked on hers. Slowly, without a single word, he reached out with a subtle movement of his fingers, using Ruler's Authority to peel away her clothes—not harshly, but reverently, like unveiling a masterpiece.
Fubuki gasped softly, a mix of shock and excitement blooming across her face. Her arms instinctively crossed to cover herself, but Damian stepped closer, lifting her chin with one hand and brushing her hair from her face with the other.
"You're beautiful," he whispered.
She didn't respond—just leaned in again, kissing him with more urgency. Their movements became hungrier, bolder. Hands explored. Breaths hitched. She pressed against him, feeling the strength in his chest and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His body radiated warmth, power, control—and yet his touch remained gentle, intentional.
Clothes fell away. Fubuki, driven by a mixture of nerves and desire, found herself led to the counter, her back brushing the cool marble as Damian lifted her with ease, setting her down as if she weighed nothing.
The next moments were a blur of heat and closeness—soft gasps, stolen kisses, whispered affirmations. Each touch was a promise, each look a silent conversation. Fubuki responded with matching intensity, emboldened by how Damian treated her—not just like someone he wanted, but someone he respected.
Their connection was more than physical. It was magnetic. A shared pull neither of them could resist.
As the passion between them reached its peak, Fubuki clung to Damian, whispering his name like a secret. He held her close, forehead resting against hers, both of them panting softly, completely enveloped in each other.
Fubuki, completely entranced and emboldened, took the next step, kissing Damian's neck, then his chest, then slowly sliding. She wrapped her hands around his pants, undoing his button and unzipping, and what laid before her, sprouting out was a long, thick, hard 9 inch cock.
Fubuki surprised and turned on more than ever, she gazed at Damian's cock with hunger and satisfaction…
She proceeded to kiss, caress, and lick his head down to his shaft, slowly at first, but after hearing and seeing Damian's reaction, she picked up speed.
The elegant blowjob now turned into a sloppy mess of Fubuki sucking vigorously and purposely gagging on his thick cock. Trying her best to take in as much as she could, almost as if it were her sole mission to please and impress Damian.
She sucked harder and harder, moving her tongue with precision and grace. Damian felt an explosive surge from his stomach down to his balls. Fubuki felt him tense, his arms leaning back, gripping the sink behind him. This caused the room to shake, and eventually, unbeknownst to Damian and Fubuki, the entire building started to shake… Fubuki lost in heat, gripped her arms around his thighs taking in his cock waiting for Damian, "Ugh fuck I'm gunna cummmmm!"
Downstairs, in the restaurant's quiet lobby…
Tatsumaki floated near the ceiling, arms crossed, glaring down at one of Fubuki's men.
"What do you mean I can't go upstairs?" she demanded.
"I'm sorry, Miss Tornado," the man said nervously. "Lady Fubuki requested complete privacy for her recruiting meeting. No interruptions."
Tatsumaki huffed. "A recruiting meeting? For over an hour?" Her eyes narrowed.
"I-I'm sure she'll be done soon."
"Fine," she snapped, floating back to a seat, hovering with an exaggerated sigh. "But if she takes too long, I'm going up there myself. And if this so-called recruit isn't worth her time…"
Her voice trailed off as her gaze burned toward the ceiling.
"I'll make sure he regrets wasting mine."
Suddenly... the building trembled, a deep rumble echoing through the restaurant as glasses on tables clinked and light fixtures swayed. It wasn't a massive earthquake, but strong enough to get everyone's attention.
Guests gasped. One of Fubuki's guards stumbled slightly, reaching for the wall to steady himself. All eyes turned toward the ceiling.
Tatsumaki, still floating midair near the entrance, narrowed her eyes and turned toward the upper floors.
"Is that an earthquake… or is this place falling apart?" she muttered, arms crossing tighter.
The tremor ceased as suddenly as it had started. Silence followed, tense and uncertain.
Tatsumaki floated down slowly, a rare flicker of concern in her expression. "Hmph… That didn't feel natural."
She turned to the guards again. "I'm going up there."
"Miss Tornado, please," one of the men said, flustered. "Lady Fubuki requested—"
"I don't care what she requested," Tatsumaki snapped. "If she's in danger—or doing something stupid—I'm going to stop it."
Without waiting for a response, she floated straight past them toward the stairs, rising quickly toward the VIP floor.
Upstairs – VIP Lounge Restroom
The tremor faded into silence.
Inside the private restroom, the air was thick with warmth and lingering tension. Fubuki, still knelt down, swallowing every last drop. Her breathing was still shallow, skin flushed, lost in the trance of their intimacy. But Damian's expression suddenly shifted.
He tensed.
Through the walls, beyond the soundproofed luxury of the private lounge, his super hearing picked up a familiar voice.
Sharp. Irritated.
Tatsumaki.
His eyes flicked toward the door. "Fubuki…" he said, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, voice gentle but alert.
She hummed in response, still dazed.
"Your sister's downstairs. I just heard her. She's headed this way."
Fubuki's eyes snapped open. "W-What?! Now?!"
Damian nodded, already moving. "Yeah. And it sounds like she's coming up here."
Panic set in instantly.
"Oh no, no, no—she can't see us like this!" Fubuki jumped to her feet, hastily adjusting her skirt and smoothing out her hair.
"I've got it," Damian said calmly.
With a flick of his hand, Ruler's Authority activated—telekinetically resetting the scene. Her outfit straightened perfectly, makeup subtly retouched, hair in place. His own clothes and posture were reset to casual perfection. In mere seconds, they looked like two heroes who had simply been having a quiet meal—not like they had just shaken the building with their passionate encounter.
Fubuki looked down at herself, then up at him, breathless. "You… you're way too good at that."
He smirked. "Superpowers have their perks, plus our powers are similar. I could teach you another time."
They quickly stepped out of the restroom, slipping into their seats at the private corner table just as the sound of footsteps—or rather, the telltale psychic pressure of Tatsumaki—approached the VIP floor.
Fubuki grabbed her drink and took a casual sip, forcing her body to relax. Damian leaned back in his chair, cool and collected, one arm casually draped over the side as if nothing had happened at all.
The door creaked open.
Tatsumaki floated in, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room with suspicion.
"Fubuki," she said sharply, hovering just off the floor, "what kind of recruiting meeting takes over an hour? And what the hell was that tremor? This building nearly came down!"
Fubuki looked up with practiced calm. "Oh, that? Just some construction outside, probably. Nothing major."
Tatsumaki's eyes narrowed, then slid over to Damian.
He met her gaze without flinching, offering a polite smile. "Tatsumaki. Nice to see you again."
Her green aura flickered—and with unbridled rage, Tatsumaki unleashed a massive wave of psychic energy at Damian.
"How dare you get close to my sister! I don't care if you're S-Rank or not!"
Fubuki stood up, flustered and red-faced. "Tatsumaki, stop!"
Damian, calm and composed, raised a hand to her. "Don't worry—it's all good."
The psychic blast slammed into Damian—but he didn't budge an inch. A thin, radiant layer of energy shimmered around him. His Bio-Electric Aura, fused with Ruler's Authority, activated on instinct—creating a translucent, near-impenetrable barrier that absorbed the full force of her attack.
The rooftop wasn't as lucky.
The surrounding lounge exploded in a wave of pressure. Windows shattered, chairs and dishes were hurled into the air, the roof was blown clean off—revealing the beautiful blue sky and golden sun beaming down on the trio.
Damian exhaled slowly. "Alright. You good now? Can we talk?"
Fubuki looked between her sister and Damian. There was no denying it now—Damian was stronger than her sister. Their shared moment of passion, his gentle nature, and this overwhelming power… it was all the reassurance she needed.
It was now or never.
She stepped forward confidently.
Fubuki took a deep breath, stepping forward between the two as the wind from Tatsumaki's psychic energy continued to swirl. But she didn't flinch.
Her voice rang out—clear, emotional, and resolute.
"Tatsumaki, that's enough! This is my date!"
The air in the room shifted.
"I chose to be here with Damian. I wanted to go on this date—and I want to keep seeing him. Not just today, but in the future too. So please, stop interfering and let me make my own choices."
She placed a hand on her chest, as if anchoring herself in the moment.
"You always try to protect me, but I don't need saving right now. He's not just strong—he's kind, respectful… and I like him."
Her emerald eyes burned with conviction as she locked eyes with her sister.
"So, Tatsumaki… please. Leave us alone. Let me live my life on my own terms."
Boom. Silence fell like a hammer.
Damian blinked, taken aback by Fubuki's claim over him—but pleasantly surprised. He didn't usually tie himself down, but he had to admit… it might be nice to see this beautiful, fiery woman more than once.
He smiled.
Tatsumaki, still hovering midair, fumed in silence. Internally, she was burning. Who does this guy think he is? Taking my sister on a date like this... But even she couldn't deny—this was the first time Fubuki had ever stood up to her.
Hmph… maybe he's not entirely bad…
Her eyes moved from Fubuki to Damian, scanning him from head to toe. Silent. Measuring. Judging.
Then, wordlessly, she floated closer—face unreadable.
"So... you're dating my sister?" she said, her tone almost mockingly calm. "I've said this before: I would only allow someone to be with her if they were strong enough to protect her."
She floated a little closer.
"Well, I guess… with that whole scene just now—" she glanced at the destroyed rooftop, then turned away with a signature huff. "—whatever. Do what you want. But if I ever catch you laying a hand on her—"
She spun back toward them—
—and froze.
Damian was already kissing Fubuki on the lips. He couldn't help himself, especially after that little speech she just gave…
Tatsumaki's jaw dropped. Her eyes widened. Internally: Why... why can't that be me?!
The kiss broke. Damian smiled. "Thank you for your time today. I'll text you soon about another date."
Fubuki's cheeks were flushed, but her voice was smooth and sure. "Okay. And… thank you—for today."
Tatsumaki, now fully feeling like a third wheel, exploded.
"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, DAMIAN!"
But before she could lift a finger, Damian vanished from his spot in a blink—reappearing directly in front of her. His movements were so fluid, so effortless, it startled even her.
He looked her directly in the eyes. Calm. Confident.
"I have no issues with you. I intend to treat your sister with the utmost respect. And judging by the aftermath of this lovely rooftop lunch, you should know by now—" he tilted his head slightly—"you can't hurt me."
A pause.
"Also… maybe one of these days, you could join us for lunch?"
A charming, devilish grin spread across his face.
Fubuki chimed in quickly. "Yes! That would be great. See, sis? He's a gentleman—and he knows good places to eat!"
The three of them looked around at the blown-out remains of the rooftop lounge…
Damian chuckled. "Well… this was a good spot to eat. Emphasis on was."
He took a few steps back and gave a polite bow. "Anyways, ladies—I have training with my master to attend."
With that, Damian rose into the sky, his clothes materializing into his super-suit, the cape fluttering behind him as he soared away in a streak of light.
Tatsumaki stood in silence, arms crossed, staring up after him.
"…Isn't he younger than you?" she muttered, looking over at Fubuki.
Fubuki, still watching the sky where Damian disappeared, didn't respond at first. Her thoughts drifted to their earlier moment in the restroom. Her cheeks flushed again.
"Who cares?" she said softly. "He looks old enough. Besides… age is just a number."
A/N: Thank you for reading my story! Things got a little spicy, but the next chapter is training with Saitama and the start of the Sea Monster Invasion! Leave a Comment, Powerstone, and/or review. Anything helps push the story out to more readers! Cheers!