Interdimensional Neutral Zone. Yggdrasil Plaza.
It sits on a branch of the World Tree, suspended between the ninth realm and a nebula. It is not a battlefield. It is a strip mall.
Neon runes flicker in the void: "VALHALLA OUTLET: GRAND OPENING."
Hermes, the Messenger God turned Entrepreneur, realized something after the Calamity of the Bald One. Violence is risky. Commerce is stable.
He adjusts his tie, watching the customers stream in from twelve different dimensions.
"Welcome!" Hermes beams, handing out flyers. "Please try the ambrosia samples! No smiting in the food court!"
Entry Gate.
A portal swirls open.
Saitama steps out. He is wearing his casual "OPPAI" hoodie and holding a canvas reusable shopping bag.
Genos follows, carrying a calculator and a coupon binder the size of a spellbook.
"Master," Genos scans the horizon. "This dimension is operating on a high-mana frequency. Gravity is 20% heavier than Earth. The air is 40% pure oxygen."
"Yeah, yeah," Saitama sniffs the air. "But where is the meat section? The flyer said 'Mythical Cuts 50% Off'. If they lied, I'm going to file a complaint."
"Detecting distinct savory aroma. Vector: North. Past the Kraken Sushi stand."
Saitama adjusts his grip on the bag. His eyes sharpen. The aura of a hunter emerges—not the hunter of monsters, but the hunter of deals.
"Let's go, Genos. Stay tight. I hear sale announcements."
The Aisle of Giants.
They walk past aisles stocked with towering products. Milk cartons the size of sedans. Eggs laid by Rocs.
In the produce section, Jack the Ripper is squeezing melons. He wears an apron.
"Too firm," Jack whispers to a cantaloupe. "No give. No fear."
He sees Saitama walking by.
Jack freezes. He drops the melon. He dives behind a display of glowing pumpkins.
"The Beige One!" Jack hisses. "Hlokk, hide the knives! He might break them just by looking at them!"
Saitama stops at a sample station.
A large, blue-skinned Jotunn (Ice Giant) is grilling skewers.
"Dragon Tail," the Jotunn grunts. "Spicy."
Saitama takes a toothpick. He eats.
"Chewy," Saitama judges. "Needs soy sauce."
He walks away. The Jotunn sighs in relief, sweat freezing on his brow. The critic has passed.
The Butcher Shop.
The heart of the store. The source of the commotion.
A crowd has gathered. Demons, lesser gods, and legendary heroes are pushing and shoving.
"Back!" a booming voice commands. "Wait your turn!"
Behind the counter stands Thor.
The strongest Norse God wears a hairnet over his red mane. He wears a butcher's apron stained with monster ichor.
Mjolnir sits on the cutting board.
But Mjolnir has changed. It has a laser-sight attachment and a price-gun affixed to the handle.
"You!" A minotaur slams a fist on the counter. "I asked for thin slices! This is a slab!"
Thor narrows his eyes. Lightning crackles around his hairnet.
"This meat," Thor rumbles, "is from the Behemoth. To slice it thin is an insult to its strength. You will take the slab, and you will chew it like a warrior."
The minotaur shrinks. "Y-yes, sir."
Saitama pushes through the crowd. "Excuse me. Sorry. Coming through."
He reaches the front.
"Hey, Lightning-Guy."
Thor freezes.
He drops the butcher knife. It slices through the counter and the floor.
He looks up.
His eyes meet the dead-fish eyes of the man who caught his hammer.
"You came," Thor whispers. A smile touches his lips. A genuine smile of camaraderie. "To my shop."
"Yeah," Saitama places the eternal coupon on the counter. "Do you have the Hydra Brisket? The ad said 5 yen per 100 grams. That seems impossibly cheap."
Thor picks up the coupon with reverent hands.
"For you," Thor says, voice heavy with honor, "it is free."
"No!" Saitama slams his hand on the glass display. "The coupon says 80% off! I pay 20%! I'm not a charity case! I have a budget!"
Thor blinks. He respects this. The pride of the consumer.
"Understood," Thor nods solemnly. He grabs Mjolnir.
He throws the hammer into the freezer behind him.
CRASH. ROAR.
Mjolnir flies back to his hand, dragging a massive, frozen chunk of Hydra meat on its handle.
"I have butchered this beast myself," Thor declares. "It regenerated seven times. The flavor is exponential."
Thor places the meat on the scale.
He uses Mjolnir to tenderize it.
WHAM. WHAM.
The shockwaves shatter the glass displays of neighboring aisles.
"Genos," Saitama whispers. "He's really intense about this."
"His butchery technique utilizes centrifugal force to break down collagen fibers," Genos notes, taking photos. "I must upgrade my chopping modules."
The Conflict.
"HOLD IT!"
The crowd parts.
Three figures stride forward.
Golden armor. High chins. The arrogant walk of middle-management deities.
The Seven Lucky Gods (well, three of them). Ebisu, Hotei, and Daikokuten.
They look annoyed.
"We reserved the Hydra," Ebisu announces, holding a golden fishing rod. "We have a banquet for the Pantheon Restoration Committee. That meat is ours."
Thor glares. "This customer was here first. And he has a coupon."
"A coupon?" Hotei laughs, slapping his massive belly. "We have Gold! Infinite Gold! Outbid him, brothers!"
Daikokuten throws a bag of celestial coins on the counter. "Double the price!"
Saitama looks at the bag of gold. Then at his crumpled coupon.
The darkness returns. The "Serious" shading covers his face.
"Line cutters," Saitama whispers.
Ebisu sneers. "Move along, bald mortal. Go buy some... spam."
Saitama turns slowly.
"I hate spam."
Ebisu flicks his fishing rod. The hook—capable of catching luck itself—snags the bag of Hydra meat.
"It's mine!"
Saitama grabs the other end of the meat.
"Let go."
"Never!" Hotei joins in, grabbing the meat. Daikokuten grabs Hotei.
Three gods pulling against one bald man.
"Tug of War," Saitama says. "Serious Move."
He jerks his arm back.
YANK.
He doesn't just pull the meat.
He pulls the gods attached to the meat.
He pulls the floor tiles they are standing on.
He pulls the airflow of the entire supermarket.
The three Lucky Gods fly past Saitama. They break the sound barrier.
They fly through the dairy aisle (exploding the milk).
They fly through the bakery (dusting the air with flour).
They fly out the front exit, creating a hole in the Yggdrasil Plaza forcefield, and drift off towards a black hole.
Saitama holds the Hydra brisket. It is perfectly intact.
"You guys stretch too much," he mutters.
The Checkout.
The store is silent.
Loki, who was trying to shoplift a pack of gum near the register, puts it back slowly. "I'll just... pay."
Saitama places the meat on the checkout belt.
"Did that void the warranty?"
Thor shakes his head. "No. It has been tested in battle. It is premium grade."
Thor scans the barcode with Mjolnir's handle.
BEEP.
"That will be 350 yen."
Saitama hands over a 500 yen coin.
Thor fumbles with the register. His giant fingers are too clumsy for the small buttons.
"I... I cannot make change," Thor admits, sweating. "My fingers... too mighty."
"Keep it," Saitama says magnanimously.
He picks up the bag of meat.
"Buy yourself a new apron. That one has guts on it."
Thor looks at the extra 150 yen.
He has received tribute.
Not a sacrifice of blood. But a tip.
Thor bows. Deeply.
"Thank you, Customer-Saitama. Please come again."
The Exit.
Saitama and Genos walk back to the portal.
"Mission success," Saitama says, patting the bag. "This will feed us for a week. And it was cheap."
"Master," Genos says, looking back at the chaotic store. "I believe you have inadvertently stabilized the economy of this dimension. By establishing a 'Customer is King' precedent, the gods are now afraid to overcharge."
"Economics is boring," Saitama yawns. "I'm hungry."
They step through the portal.
Back at Yggdrasil Plaza, a sign is nailed to the door by Thor himself.
"NO LINE CUTTING. PENALTY: ORBIT."
And in the shadows, Zeus (wearing a fake mustache and trench coat) slowly approaches the meat counter.
"One pound of ham," Zeus whispers. "Please don't tell anyone I shop here."
Thor looks at his father.
"Do you have a loyalty card?"
Zeus sighs.
"I'll sign up."