The One Punch Man (a.k.a Saitama) in Demon Slayer

The next morning, the sun rose lazily over the Demon Slayer Corps' training grounds. The faint smell of leftover broth still hung in the air, a quiet reminder of the night before — the night Saitama had become the first-ever Honorary Bald Slayer.

Tengen, still glittering from excitement, called everyone to gather in the courtyard. "Alright, listen up, slayers! Today marks the official start of the Hashira Training Arc. And we've got a brand-new secret weapon — our very own shiny-headed hero!"

Saitama stood at the center, arms crossed, wearing the traditional Demon Slayer uniform. It had to be custom-made because none of the usual outfits fit his…unique style. His cape remained intact, though, fluttering slightly in the breeze.

"It's kinda tight," Saitama muttered, adjusting the collar. "And do I really need a sword? I already have my fists."

"Symbolism!" Mitsuri chimed. "Everyone has a sword. Even if you never use it, you gotta have it for the aesthetic!"

Grumbling, Saitama slung a wooden training sword at his waist, feeling mildly ridiculous. "This is dumb."

"Now then!" Tengen shouted, clapping his hands. "To kick off training, each Hashira will demonstrate their ultimate technique. Saitama, you'll observe and learn our breathing styles — so you can officially become part of the team."

Saitama blinked. "I'm just watching?"

"Correct!" Rengoku boomed, his flames practically bursting from his body. "Observe with your heart! Absorb our spirit!"

Saitama sighed. "I should've just stayed home."

---

The Hashira Show-Off Session

The first demonstration came from Rengoku himself. He drew his sword, flames instantly licking along the blade's edge. "Flame Breathing: Ninth Form – Rengoku!" He spun forward like a comet, carving a fiery arc through the training dummies, reducing them to ash in seconds.

Saitama scratched his cheek. "That's pretty cool."

Next was Mitsuri, all smiles, but her strikes were surprisingly powerful. "Love Breathing: Fifth Form – Swaying Love, Wildclaw!" Her flexible sword whipped around like a ribbon, slicing targets from impossible angles.

"Neat," Saitama said, though his expression barely changed.

Obanai stepped up next, his snake slithering along his shoulders. "Serpent Breathing: Sixth Form – Twisting Coil Slash." His blade spun like a tornado, cutting clean through the wooden logs.

"Hmm." Saitama's response was as flat as ever.

Shinobu followed with her signature poison attacks, her delicate movements almost like a dance. "Insect Breathing: Dance of the Centipede – Hundred-Legged Zigzag." She darted across the field so fast she left afterimages, her blade piercing vital points effortlessly.

Saitama gave her a small thumbs up. "Fast."

Even Giyu, the ever-silent Water Hashira, demonstrated his Tenth Form – Constant Flux, creating a spinning dragon of water that swallowed its targets whole.

"Water tornado. Nice," Saitama commented.

One by one, each Hashira displayed their peak technique — techniques they had spent years, even decades mastering. The ground shook, the air rippled, the very earth seemed to hold its breath in awe.

And Saitama just stood there. Unimpressed. Scratching his ear.

"So," Tengen asked eagerly, "What do you think? Ready to develop your own Breathing Style? We could call it… Bald Breathing!"

"No thanks," Saitama said, deadpan. "I breathe just fine."

The Hashira collapsed to the ground in defeat.

---

Training Begins (Sort Of)

Despite his refusal to create a breathing style, Saitama still had to "train" alongside the Demon Slayers. The Hashira took turns sparring with him — or rather, trying to spar. Rengoku's sword bounced harmlessly off his head. Shinobu's poison needles bent on contact. Sanemi's furious wind slashes couldn't even ruffle Saitama's cape.

At some point, Saitama just sat down mid-spar, eating a rice ball while Sanemi screamed insults at him.

"You're not even trying!" Sanemi roared. "Fight me seriously!"

Saitama blinked. "Why? You'd die."

The entire training ground fell silent.

Even Muzan's spies, hidden in the forest, were sweating nervously.

---

Trouble Brewing

Unbeknownst to the Demon Slayers, deep within a hidden lair, Muzan Kibutsuji sat in silence. One of his Upper Moons knelt before him, trembling.

"You say… a bald man wiped out Lower Moon Four in a single punch?" Muzan's voice was dangerously soft.

"Yes, Lord Muzan," the demon stammered. "And… and he's apparently joined the Demon Slayers."

Muzan's crimson eyes narrowed, and for the first time in centuries, the King of Demons felt something unfamiliar.

Fear.

"Summon the remaining Upper Moons," Muzan ordered. "This… 'Saitama' must be eliminated."

---

Evening Feast

As the day ended, the slayers gathered for another meal — though the kitchen was better prepared this time. Saitama, true to form, consumed enough food for a village.

"Tomorrow," Tengen announced, "We'll begin advanced training! Obstacle courses, breathing enhancement, endurance trials—"

"Pass," Saitama said between bites of tempura. "That sounds boring."

The Hashira could only weep silently.

And so, Saitama's life as the Honorary Bald Slayer began — with confusion, chaos, and way too much food. Yet, somewhere deep in his heart (not that he'd admit it), Saitama felt something strange.

A little spark of excitement.

Maybe… just maybe… this Demon Slayer thing could be fun.

---

End of Chapter 74