On yet another dull day in Saitama's life, he was curled up on the couch like a lazy cat, watching some random TV show with zero enthusiasm. Next to him, a plate of fries sat untouched, now as cold as a government employee's heart on a Monday morning.
The atmosphere was quiet… a little too quiet.
And then—
Knock, knock, knock…
Okay, it wasn't an explosion, nor was it another alien invasion. It was just a soft tapping on his window.
Saitama lazily lifted his head and glanced over—only to see a small figure floating in midair, staring at him like he was some kind of rodent hiding in the corner.
Yep… Tatsumaki.
"Open the window," she said flatly.
Saitama took a deep breath, then decided to employ an ancient strategy known as "royal-level ignoring." He simply turned back to the TV as if she didn't exist.
But Tatsumaki wasn't the type to give up easily.
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock…
The tapping grew increasingly annoying—like a neighbor who borrows salt and then refuses to leave for the next three hours.
Saitama let out a long sigh, then dragged himself off the couch at a painfully slow pace. He walked over to the window, finally opened it, and raised an eyebrow in the most uninterested way possible.
"What?" he asked in a monotone voice.
"I want a fight," she declared confidently, as if she were challenging him to save the world from an apocalyptic disaster.
Saitama stared at her for a moment, then, with unexpected seriousness, replied:
"No."
And with that, he shut the window in her face.
Silence.
Then…
Knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock…
Saitama reopened the window, his face now visibly tired.
"If you wanna come in, why not just use the door like a normal person?"
"Normal person? Do I look like a normal person to you?" Tatsumaki huffed as she floated through the window into his apartment.
"…Fair point," Saitama admitted before flopping back onto the couch.
Tatsumaki glanced around the room, then wrinkled her nose in disgust. "This place is filthy. When was the last time you cleaned?"
"Hmm…" Saitama thought for a second before answering with full confidence, "Maybe last year?"
She stared at him in silent horror, then looked down at the floor—where dust and grime had seemingly survived since the dinosaur era.
"That's disgusting," she muttered, lifting herself slightly off the ground as if touching the floor would somehow poison her.
"You know, you can leave anytime," Saitama said, munching on the last of his now-rock-solid fries.
But Tatsumaki didn't move.
Instead, she floated over to the couch, plopped down as if she owned the place, and looked at him with a defiant glare. "I'm not leaving until you fight me."
Saitama glanced at her for a second. Then, without a word, he simply ignored her and went back to watching TV.
And just like that… the Quiet Invasion had begun.