Baji-hu did not participate in the battle. He sat quietly inside the carriage while Saitama rested atop the roof, gazing up at the starry sky.
Truth be told, Baji-hu had brushed with death earlier that day. If Saitama had given up on saving him, his corpse would already be cold by now.
"Saitama... do you think you can win if you go back?" Baji-hu’s voice trembled. Even Shimada—a man held in high regard by Lord Xiahu of Early Spring—had betrayed them. He couldn’t begin to imagine what awaited them in the capital.
He had served the Early Spring family his entire life. His parents and grandparents before him had also served as loyal retainers. If Lord Xiahu were to fall, what fate would befall him?
Would he simply follow the Early Spring Tiger into the same darkness, never to awaken again?
"My mission doesn’t involve those matters," Saitama replied indifferently, stretching his legs over the roof’s edge. His hands gripped the frame of the carriage. "All I have to do is escort the Early Spring Tiger safely to the capital."
"Yes... this has nothing to do with you, Saitama." Baji-hu smiled bitterly. But deep in his eyes, he seemed lost in thought—perhaps contemplating his inevitable fate.
"I believe... that my lord can still triumph in the end," Baji-hu whispered, as if to himself. His voice was faint and distant.
"Perhaps," Saitama muttered.
He narrowed his eyes at the stars above, his lips tightening.
---
The night passed swiftly. By morning, Baji-hu had steeled his thoughts once more and resumed his duties, tending diligently to Lord Xiahu.
The carriage moved steadily forward. In the following days, no enemy forces blocked their path, and the group traveled without incident.
"Caw!" A bird’s cry echoed through a forest they passed, and the fresh scent of pines reminded them of the beauty of nature.
"Saitama, one day... we’ll make it to the capital." Xiahu of Early Spring stuck his head out of the carriage window, his voice full of renewed vigor.
"Mm," Saitama responded quietly, hugging his sword as he stared ahead.
But the closer they came to their destination, the more uneasy he grew. The final stretch was when mistakes could be fatal.
"...Tch." Saitama suddenly stood. His senses flared—numerous chakra signatures surged into his perception.
"Xiahu of Early Spring, we meet again!" A group blocked the road up ahead. A middle-aged man in fine robes stood atop a separate carriage, his voice mocking.
"Stop the carriage," Xiahu ordered calmly. Baji-hu obeyed, and Xiahu stepped down.
"Sanzhiji," Xiahu muttered in surprise.
"You didn’t expect me to welcome you personally, did you?" said the man named Sanzhiji.
"I didn’t expect you to have the guts to face me yourself," Xiahu replied flatly. "Do you think the rotten tomatoes beside you can stop me?"
"Oh? So you made it past Shimada... just as I expected. That fool failed." Sanzhiji gave a smirk full of disdain. "But did you think I hadn’t made further preparations?"
His gaze shifted toward Saitama atop the roof.
"So you’re the Konoha shinobi Xiahu hired? A child who can take down a jōnin—impressive. But this is where it ends."
He clapped his hands sharply.
Three figures emerged from the shadows behind him—each wearing battle-worn shinobi gear. Their presence radiated killing intent.
"That fool Kus couldn’t handle a kid like you? Useless," growled one of the men. His mouth twisted into a cruel sneer as he glared at Saitama.
"You’ll regret ever being born, brat!" said the second ninja, his face cratered with pockmarks and a massive warhammer strapped to his back.
"Heh... that face isn’t bad. Don’t ruin it when you die," leered the third. His skin was pale and scarred, and his words were as slimy as the bugs that seemed to crawl across his body.
Saitama frowned but said nothing. All three were undoubtedly jōnin, and judging by their cohesion, they were a veteran team.
He doubted he could protect Lord Xiahu while fending them off alone.
"There’s a lot of samurai too—at least a hundred," Xiahu whispered grimly.
"What do we do, my lord?" Baji-hu asked, trembling near the carriage.
No one replied. Even Xiahu was speechless, his expression grim.
"I’ll hold off the three shinobi. You find a way to break through." Saitama jumped down from the carriage, gripping the hilt of his blade.
Sure enough, this mission wasn’t going to end smoothly. He took a deep breath and readied his stance.
"Oho, you’ve got guts, kid!" the hammer-wielding ninja laughed. "I thought you’d run home to your mother!"
All three approached at once. Though they knew Saitama had the strength of a jōnin, none of them dared fight him one-on-one.
"Zzzzt!"
Lightning crackled along Saitama’s blade. His Sharingan spun to life, and his body tensed.
At twenty meters, the lead ninja charged.
"Bang!"
Saitama launched himself forward, moving with explosive speed. He didn’t hesitate—he slipped past the lead attacker and slashed at the hammer-wielder.
"Clang!"
Their weapons clashed. Saitama’s blade forced the man back a few steps.
He attempted to retreat immediately, but—
"Tch..." His sword wouldn’t budge. It was stuck.
He yanked harder, but it still didn’t come free. Then he looked up—and locked eyes with a grinning, pockmarked face.
"Bang!" A fist slammed toward him. It was the third shinobi.
The first enemy recovered quickly and lunged in with a kunai aimed at Saitama’s back.
Danger! Saitama’s instincts screamed.
"Tchaaa!" He let go of his sword and leapt aside, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow.
The trio didn’t pursue.
"Yo, kid! Looking for this?" Baji-hu’s voice rang out. He had somehow retrieved Saitama’s sword and now waved it dramatically.
"You’ve lost your weapon. How will you fight now?" sneered the third ninja.
"Enough talk. Kill him," the leader ordered.
Saitama glanced at Xiahu—he was already in the thick of battle, cutting down foes left and right. But Sanzhiji stood calmly atop his carriage, as if he already knew the outcome.
"Zzzzt!" Electricity surged from Saitama’s body. He couldn’t let this drag on. If he didn’t end it soon, Xiahu wouldn’t survive.
"Die!" the lead ninja roared, lunging with a kunai. His two teammates followed closely behind.
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