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Everyone always heard about the house in the mountain.
It was a large mansion, shrouded in the thick of the woods somewhere up there, looming over the small town. Every year some kids would try to climb the mountain and find it, only to return home empty handed and frustrated; they all swore up and down it was fake, it was a rumor, it was nothing but a child’s tale to get the kids away from venturing into the woods.
But once, maybe twice a year, someone would look up into the mounds of land and swear, for just a moment they saw they edge of a building before it disappeared into the mists.
“They said a little boy died in there,” the kids at Saitama’s middle school swore, “The house was on fire and he couldn’t get out.”
“Well I heard it was murder,” one of the girls said, causing a quiet stir ‘ooh’s’ to spread among the children.
Saitama leaned against his palm with a sigh, yawning in disinterest. He looked out the windows and peered up into the forests. The rest of his class wanted to go find some spooky house, fine. It didn’t really matter to him much anyway - after all, who cares? The house might not even exist, and if no one found it before, who would now?
Regardless, by the pushing, pleading voices of Mumen and King did Saitama finally agree to do it - because if anything, anyone and everyone who’s ever gone up that hill came back with an air of respect and admiration from all their peers.
“We’re going to be so popular,” Sonic sang, flashing them a wild grin. “I bet I can reach the top in five minutes fast - I’m a fast runner.”
“You boys are stupid!” Fubuki huffed and shook her head, small black locks flying with her head. “They’re saying there’s going to be a thunderstorm tonight. You’ll all get sick, wet, and lost.”
“We’re not going to go too far,” Mumen said, nervously adjusting his glasses. “And I’ll bring some umbrellas and a first aid kit just in case.” He looked to the others. “Safety is priority, you know.”
King (along with several other students wanting to join) quietly nodded in agreement.
Sonic rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Fine. We’ll keep close.”
They did not.
Sonic and a couple other boys dashed right out of the school after the bell rang and into the hiking trail, claiming they’ll get there first; Saitama, Mumen and King stopped by a convenience store to pick up umbrellas and snacks; and Fubuki only took one look at her new shoes before deciding she’d rather not dirty them so soon.
“All right,” Mumen said, carefully tucking everything into their backpacks. “We’re set to go - but remember, only for a little walk. We’ll go back before it gets too dark.”
“Ah - wait. Can you pass me that bag of chips? I’m kind of hungry.”
“Sure!”
Now satisfied with his small bag of potato chips, Saitama remained pacified throughout the walk, patiently waiting for a tired Mumen and King to catch up as they started heading in deeper, higher into the trail. It was a little eerie, he’ll admit; the trees were dark and kind of twisting in on them, and it was very quiet and they couldn’t hear much but the crunch of leaves and dirt underneath their sneakers. When they reached a break in the trees, the three boys took in the impressive sight of the small town down below, completely walled in by forest and mountains.
“Wow,” Mumen breathed, “So pretty!”
King quietly took a picture.
Saitama looked up into the gray sky, something settling uneasy in his stomach. Maybe the chips?
Boom! Mumen jolted, letting out a yelp before bashfully chuckling as a few raindrops fell from the sky and pattered onto the ground. “Heh, I guess it already starting raining. Well, Guess that settles it; no house for us! Time to go back.”
Finally. They turned back and began the descent down the mountain, the rain pouring in heavy when a rippling scream bounced off the trees.
They looked at each other. “Um…”
Mumen paled. “H-Hello?”
The sound of fast approaching footsteps alerted them to something coming; Mumen quickly stepped forward, obviously terrified but wanting to cover his friends before a screaming Sonic ran towards them, grabbed their arms and dragged them along with him.
“Run, damn it!” he shouted, “T-There’s something in there!”
“W-What?”
Saitama frowned. “Did you see the house?”
“Forget the house, there’s something coming!”
At that, the middle schooler looked back over his shoulder, and could almost faintly see something in the crashing rain - something move. He let out a gasp and whirled around, forcing his feet forward and helping along an exhausted King.
Hunters? A bear? What on earth was -
“Oomph!” Saitama’s foot caught on a twig and sent him flying forward, tumbling downhill and off the trail entirely. Crashing into dirt and stone as he rolled down the mountain, Saitama felt his head go dizzy and the world start to grow bleary and vivid in pulses; he finally landed in a small field, rolling onto his back and staring bleakly into the sky.
Ouch, he vaguely thought, hearing the faraway cries of Mumen and twigs snapping, something coming towards him before he heard a buzz in his ears and the world slowly darkened.
It was surprisingly warm.
Saitama stirred, slowly opening his eyes and sitting up. Blinking sleepily, he brushed the blankets off him and yawned, content under the heat of a crackling fire and the warm plush chair cradling him.
He looked down at his clothes, vaguely wondering why they were torn a bit when the events of the day snapped into him.
“What - “ he whirled around, peering around the dark room. He could hear the heavy rain outside, the windows dark with nightfall, and small trickles of water leaking from the roof and pattering onto the floor.
Slowly, quietly, the middle schooler lifted himself out of the chair, out of the blankets and stepped away, tiptoeing for the windows before he realized they were all nailed shut. Damn. He quietly made his way to the next room, a much larger one with black shelves and faded ashes and old books - and up on the middle of the room was a painting, charred but visible, of two people and a little boy staring out at him. Saitama briefly skimmed over the faintly glowing gold eyes before something terrible twisted in his stomach and with a growing horror did he turn around and realize where he was.
“The house,” he faintly whispered.
The boy. The fire. All of it was true, all of the rumors were…
The dull sound of shoes walking against the marble floors snapped him out of his reverie, sending the boy ducking under some old curtains. As the footsteps slowly approached from down the hall, Saitama felt his pulse pick up. He turned around and tried to force the window behind him open - only to again, find nails poking out the bottom.
Trapping him. Trapping them.
He gulped, pulse pounding in his ears. He’ll fight them - he… he’s as fast as Sonic, and did beat him at the martial arts tournament in school. Maybe he could - oh but it’s so dark and raining outside, he’ll get lost again and his ankle is throbbing -
The footsteps stopped.
Saitama waited, straining his ears over his heart to listen, but the house was eerily silent save for the low white noise of rain and thunder. Saitama slowly poked his eyes out from his hiding spot, peering over the dark room before he slowly stepped out and walked towards the door. He looked left, then right, empty hallways staring back.
His heart thudded against his chest, helpless thumps pressing on him to run. Following instinct alone, Saitama sprinted down a hall and made a turn, passing room after room, some doors open, pale moonlight filtering in, and some closed, locked tight and shut. Squeak! Saitama yelped and flinched back, only to peer down at a faded bunny plushie with button eyes, charred and lying on the floor in front of a closed door.
A knock came from downstairs. Flinching, he broke into another run, footsteps muffled by the faded red carpets under his shoes, crossing halls and zipping past windows, up into corners and down long asiles before he slowly came to a stop, reaching a long hall full of windows on one side, paintings on the other and one single door at the end of the hall. A dead end. Catching his breath, Saitama looked out the windows and found they weren’t nailed - but… when he peered outside, all he could see was the descent of the roof leading out into the front courtyard, all too high up for him to climb out. From the faint light outside, he could almost see the front gates, dark and sharp a little ways from the house. The rest was thick forest, stretching out into the horizon.
Saitama felt his throat close in, a lump forming; he let out a breathless, humorless chuckle and slowly shook his head.
He’s lost. Completely, entirely lost. Going out there would be nothing short of murder, at least in the night, and in the rain…
But when he heard a faint thump of something moving downstairs, his heart lept into his throat and he knew right then and there like hell he was going to spend the night here.
He took one last look at the single door, the old wood and knob seeming to stare right back at him, before he turned and left the other way, sprinting down and finding an opening.
There! He found himself on a higher floor, two large staircases on both sides leading down to the living room of the house. A chandelier was broken at the bottom, old glass twinkling on the black and white squared floors, but right there in the middle was the main door coming in.
Saitama darted towards it, hand outreached and hope soaring in his chest when he jumped at the door and quickly pulled the knob, only to find it locked.
And then he felt the presence of someone behind him.
“It’s raining.”
Saitama froze. He stared at his hand, wrapped right over the silky bronze knob. The hairs on the back of his neck slowly stood with a dooming shiver. “It is,” he said.
He didn’t turn around.
“You should not go so soon,” the voice said. Quiet, clipped, but firm. “You injured your head during the fall and your ankle is sprained. You are in no condition to leave.”
“I really should though… my mom will get worried, plus, I have homework due on Monday…”
Like hell he did, but the stranger didn’t need to know that.
“I don’t think so.”
Saitama closed his eyes.
“But you can leave in the morning. I know how to get back to the trail.”
He opened them. “Wait, what? I can leave?”
“I wouldn’t recommend it with those injuries, but yes. Please take a seat until then.”
Huh. Saitama let go of the handle, uncertainty bouncing around his throbbing head. Should he really trust this guy? Then again, he doesn’t even sound like one, more like… Saitama turned around, only to find himself looking down.
“What the hell? What are you doing out here, kid?”
“Huh?” The blonde looked thrown off before a frown overtook his features. “I live here.”
“No you don’t! Oh, you are in big trouble now, little guy,” Saitama grinned and wagged his finger at him, relief and amusement flooding his body. To think this whole time, some kid was the one wandering the house! He probably heard the rumors around school and joined the other kids with Sonic. He probably came across a passed out Saitama and decided to help him up - and more than anything, he probably just found this house by accident and decided to rest up here while it rained. Smart kid! Now it all makes sense! “Ha! Wait till I tell your parents!”
The blonde only stared at him. “My parents are dead.”
“Right, right. And, let me guess - you’re some ghost wandering the house too?”
“Precisely.”
“Pssht. You’ve got to be kidding…” Saitama’s eyes wandered down to his legs - or lack of, rather. His words trailed off, confusion, then fear, then shock taking their toll as he watched the little ghostly tail of the kid ever so lightly sway back and forth.
“Wha - “ he jumped back, pointing at him. “You’re really a ghost?!”
"Yes.” The boy frowned. “I’ve been saying it many times now, mister.”
“Woah! Wow! That’s uh - really creepy actually.” Saitama scratched the back of his neck. “It’s so weird… ah - no offense though.”
The blonde tilted his head, staring at him, golden eyes peering into his. “You seemed so afraid earlier, yet now you’re not? Do ghosts not terrify you?”
“Not really. I mean, you’re dead. What can you do?”
The ghost frowned, and Saitama would've been a liar if he said later that it didn’t look like a cute pout. “I can do things.”
“Like what?”
“I can…” he looked around, before spotting a vase and drifting towards it, placing both hands on the side and struggling, furrowing his brows in concentration before two trembling palms brought the vase to float, ever so slightly - then slipped and sent the vase roughly landing on the shelf again. “There,” he panted, “I can pick things up.”
Saitama walked over and easily lifted the vase in one hand. “So can I.”
“Ah!” The ghost’s eyes glimmered in admiration. “Amazing!”
He couldn’t help it anymore; Saitama let a grin, so wide it full it nearly took up his face. “What’s your name? I’m Saitama.”
“Genos.”
“Genos,” he repeated, nodding his head. “Nice to meet you then, Genos.”
He reached out to shake his hand, only to have it go right through him. “Um. Sorry.”
As it turned out, Genos was the kid in the painting - about one year less than Saitama, (but decades older if they were considering the afterlife as "years") - and for starters, the kid was pleasant.
He had found him earlier, passed out and used all his power to drag him to the house - and then even went ahead to start a fire and put a blanket over him.
He had also been here for many years, alone, tending to the house.
“I can help you clean up a bit, if you’d like.”
Genos smiled, and suddenly Saitama felt warm. “I would like that.”
They spent the night cleaning up, with mostly Saitama moving the heavier things around while Genos pointed out where certain things belonged and whatnot. Throughout this time, Saitama told him stories about his misadventures in school while Genos mostly listened, adding in small comments.
It was obvious - terribly obvious - that he wanted to say more, but Saitama couldn’t blame the kid for being somewhat distant. He’s been alone for this long, plus, who would ever want to trust a stranger?
When Saitama finally reached the limit of what his ankle could take that night, he leaned back into a chair and closed his eyes, only looking up when he felt Genos place a rag over his throbbing leg, watching him with intent pale eyes.
Morning came soon after; the rain was gone and Saitama was alone. With a yawn and stretch, he packed up his things and headed for the door, noting quietly that it was unlocked.
He turned back and took one last look at the house. “Bye, Genos.”
When he reached the open main gates, he turned back and could have sworn he saw the curtains on the second floor shift.
Saitama would have thought himself to be the guy that wasn’t committed; if he can’t be bothered to do his homework, why the hell would he go back to a ghost’s house?
But everything has a way of surprising him.
After a week of having to explain the story over and over at school (only to be called a liar from everyone except Mumen and King) Saitama couldn’t help but wonder about Genos. Was he doing alright? Was he bored, was he lonely? They only cleaned a few rooms, really, and not even fully; they mostly just picked up fallen stuff and set them in a pile, and maybe organized some things in like two rooms. The chandelier was still cracked over the living room, the shelves were still full of ashes, the curtains needed to be cleaned - not to mention the lawn overflowing with weeds…
So in the end Saitama went back.
Sonic and some of the Tank Top boys were watching him as he went, confused and baffled when they saw the middle schooler load his backpack with cleaning supplies (and a mop for crying out loud!) and heading up the trail.
Sonic narrowed his eyes. “Where’s that guy headed off to?”
They shrugged and continued on, leaving him to his own devices.
The hike uphill wasn’t as bad without rain - and the sky was bright and clear, Saitama whistling as he reached the opening where he, Mumen and King stopped last time. Retracing his steps from that day, Saitama followed the trail down and took a left, going off the marks and carefully making his way down until he spotted a field. “Aha!” He slid down the rocks and stepped out into the flowers looking around for a head of blonde hair.
“Genos,” he called, “The house isn’t clean! We’ve got finish it!”
Hopefully he'd come back again... Saitama looked around, pleasantly noting how pretty the little sprouts were when he noticed a shimmering blue lake down below, a ways off ahead. Huh. Maybe he could go there sometime...
“Mister Saitama?”
“Oh!” He whirled around, spotting Genos unsurely hovering at the edge under the trees. “Genos! I almost didn’t see you there… hey, look - “ he pointed down at the lake and grinned. “Maybe we can go there sometime, yeah?”
“Ah - but I can’t go much farther than this.”
“Huh? Why?”
Genos stared at him, cold golden eyes dull under the shades. “I don’t have much energy and I’m not strong enough to stray too far from the house.”
Oh. “Well, that’s okay.” He showed him his stuffed backpack. “I’ve got more cleaning supplies; we can just work on the house today.”
He didn’t miss it when Genos’ eyes lit.
This time they were able to fully scrub the floors of about three rooms, mostly Saitama doing the work since Genos at most could only lift small or light things. It was actually kinda cute, seeing the little guy try to pick up a tiny rag or book and turn red at the action. Was it really that hard for ghosts to move things? He kept trying to offer help but Genos kept proving to be stubborn, claiming he just needed a bit more and... Crash! Whatever he was holding would inevitably slip through him and fall to the floor. Genos was panting by then.
By the time the sun started to set and it was time to go, Saitama found himself to be just as exhausted as he was; they had two rooms fully cleaned and organized, one room with a shining floor, and though Saitama was too weak to pull the chandelier out, they were able to at least sweep the glass shards into a pile and dump them into a plastic bag to throw away - not much in a giant mansion, but enough to send the two boys sprawling.
“Phew,” he panted, wiping his brow. “I should start working out… maybe start a training regime or something…”
The next day he almost didn’t get out of bed, too sore to even sit up without wincing. Saitama swore up and down, huffing and grumbling that that would be it; no more visits. In his eyes, he had now outpaid, in full and more the kindness Genos had shown to him - so there would be no more visits up that damn mountain!
But by the end of the week he found himself in fields again with his supplies, waiting for Genos to come.
It was because of this - swearing he wouldn't only to go again - that soon enough it became somewhat of a ritual; every Saturday, and later twice a week, Saitama would go meet Genos in the field and fix up the house. He knew where to find it at this point, if he was being honest - but their meetings there became something of a...tradition.
Genos started to smile when he saw him there. Scratch that; he just starting to smile more in general. He started opening up more; his eyes would light the moment they landed on Saitama and his lips would start curving upwards; he seemed to be getting stronger too, surprising Saitama once when he tripped and felt the back of his shirt pull back sharply - before abruptly stopping and leaving him to fall face first onto the floor. Genos also started telling him stories about the house, its history and how it passed throughout the generations. He told him about the sounds inside, how a certain crack got on that window or how he had to chase a rat out of the house with only a stick and rag. When Saitama laughed at that last one, Genos’ eyes widened, glimmered then he grinned.
Soon enough they were sharing stories back and forth; when summer came around and the school year was over, Saitama visited the mountain nearly every day, eagerly racing up the trail to meet his newest (albeit strangest) friend.
“You’ve arrived even faster,” Genos noted, staring down at the newly forming muscles in his legs.
“Ha, I guess I’m getting used to it.”
Genos could now make it to the field; he waited for him under the sun and flowers, golden hair tousling around him like a halo. Now that he could move farther away from the house, they took some days to simply walk the forest.
“I spy… something green.”
Genos deadpanned. “It’s the leaves. Again.”
“Bingo!”
“Would you like to go to the lake today?”
“You can head that far now?”
Genos nodded, Saitama noticing how hit pale empty eyes were starting to gain a vivid golden color.
The walk was long and they had to be careful should Saitama fall on the way down, but by the time they reached the glimmering blue lake, all the exhaustion was wiped right off; without even taking off his clothes Saitama darted forward and dived right into the water.
“Be careful,” Genos called from the shore. “I will not be able to help you should you drown.”
“You can in the water - everything’s light in the water.”
At this, Genos rose his brows. He slipped into the pool and floated towards him, Saitama not noticing until he felt - a pressure, a feeling of two arms, one on his back the other under his knees - ever so faintly giving him the impression of rising - until it stopped and he sank, dipping back into the water. That was... Saitama shook his head and swam back up; Genos was back on the shore, back turned against him and panting from exhaustion.
And clear as day did Saitama see a ghost’s pale ears ever so faintly blush red.
When autumn rolled around and most of the kids played outside or went to the movies; Saitama, rumors went, that Saitama was going up to the mountain still.
“They say he went crazy after he fell and hit his head,” some of the girls whispered during their sleepovers.
“Maybe he’s committing a crime,” Tatsumaki huffed as they bought bubblegum over the counter.
“Maybe he simply grew to like nature,” Mumen defended in the movie theaters.
But for whatever reason, listless, bored old Saitama would disappear into the woods all day and come back smiling.
Mothers whispered, fathers stared, children giggled and teens grinned, all tossing half-baked rumors around the town.
Sonic grew curious; maybe his rival was plotting something. “I’m gonna find out what,” he swore, “‘Cause he’s definitely hiding something.”
Eventually the rumors got to his mother - after hearing it from her coworkers, she decided she ought to do something about it.
“Oi,” she called just as Saitama slung on his backpack and headed for the door, “How about you stay inside today?”
“Huh? I thought you wanted me to go outside.” He rose a brow. “Remember the speech? Burning my mangas if I didn’t?”
“I know what I said, but - how about you and I spend the day together, yes? We’ll tend to the garden outside, get some ice cream. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Saitama looked conflicted. He longingly looked towards the door before sighing and closing it. “Okay.”
They spent the day doing just that; to her relief, Saitama was surprisingly complacent -helpful, even, carrying sacks of heavy fertilizer with ease as though he’d grown used to doing manual labor. After explaining how to plant the seeds and care for the flowers after, she watched with interest as the youngster stared at the ground, dull eyes lighting.
“Well,” she said, wiping the sweat off her brow. “I think we’re finished - and with plenty of fertilizer and seeds to go! It’s autumn now, so they’ll flourish in the spring… Say, perhaps we give the extras to Mrs. Idako down the street?”
“Ah - can I keep them actually?”
“Hm?”
Saitama’s eyes were glimmering. “I think I can use them for something else.”
That night as he laid in bed, curiously poking at the growing, dully aching muscles in his arms while his thoughts swam with blond and gold, he wondered about Genos. Quiet, subdued, pretty -
Pretty?
Saitama’s cheeks flushed red. “Yeah right!” he shouted, shaking his head in denial. “As if!”
(His mother stood in the middle of the hall, confused.)
“Oi! Genos!” He shouted, running into the cold field with a bag of fertilizer over his shoulder. “I have an idea!”
“Mister Saitama!” Genos moved forward towards him, then stopped and frowned. “You were absent yesterday. Were you sick?”
“Ah - no, my mom just wanted to keep me in for the day.”
“Your mother…” he looked down at the paling grass before glancing up at him. “Perhaps you should go spend time with her instead.”
“Why’s that?”
“I do not wish to take your time from her.”
“I - ...huh?”
Saitama was confused; Genos looked obviously bothered, almost saddened...but over what? He opened his mouth to ask, only to close it; words had always failed him, always brought trouble his way somehow. It was as though every word he spoke gave others a reason to hate him - it was always like that in school, and always ended with him alone. Looking at Genos now, he decided to keep quiet and wait instead.
Like this, the walk to the house was quiet.
Saitama sometimes glanced at him, silent as he dug holes to plant the seeds in. I wonder, he thought, looking up at the mansion. What...happened?
Genos, squatting on the ground with a packet of seeds in his hands, followed his gaze and peered up at the windows, a grim look casting over his eyes.
"Mister Saitama."
He didn't move, only turning his head just a bit. "Do you wish to hear my story?"
“I - you don't have to.”
Genos didn’t say anything for a moment. He simply stood up and offered his hand to him. The middle schooler gave him a look, but when the blonde only stared back he took it, surprised to feel a sensation before Genos actually pulled him up and started walking towards the house.
He followed, smiling when he saw some of his things around the mansion and how clean the rooms were starting to look. Each one seemed to have their own story; a library room, an empty room with a radio, another with burnt brushes and canvases...it was like opening another chapter into Genos' world. But... his smile faded, eyes wandering to Genos quietly hovering up the stairs. In this manner did he truly look like the phantom of these halls. This would not be a good one. What was he going to show him? What the real story behind all this?
When the ghost finally led him down a hall, it occurred to Saitama that he’d been here before - the first night he was ever in this house.
He looked up and saw the door at the end, the old wood looking so tired and worn, beckoning him closer.
“This is my room,” Genos said. He floated up and reached for the doorknob, hesitating before slowly turning the handle and opening the door with a slow creak, stirring a small cloud of dust.
Saitama hesitated. Maybe this was too personal? He waited until Genos gave him a nod, moving aside to let him in.
Immediately his heart dropped.
The entire room was black and charred - faded papers and drawings and books, burned and forgotten. The bed itself was old and faded, the mattress coated with dust and ashes and burn marks. On the floor were little black airplanes with strings - Saitama wondered if they had once hung from the ceiling.
Finally, in the smallest corner of the room, huddled into itself was a skeleton of a young boy.
A choked gasp ripped from Saitama’s throat, eyes welling.
Genos.
“It was several decades ago.”
The mansion was given throughout the generations, passed from family to family. Genos’ in particular was on the poorer side, but they made do with what they had. Genos’ father was a stern, strong but gentle man, only loving and kind to his wife and child. His mother on the other hand was an intellect, fascinated with books and eager to teach her son about the world. She and his father would always bring him books when they came back from voyages or trips into town - even his godfather, Dr. Kuseno had been nothing but kind and supportive of him, buying him a small plush rabbit for his birthday.
They were happy. Genos was happy.
Until the day a certain man came into town. It was raining so heavily and though the townspeople were sympathetic, they had no place for him there - all the inns were filled and there was no room to spare. “Uphill,” they said, “The family uphill will let you stay.” And so they did; Genos’ parents, despite the maid’s suspicions, let the man in and let him stay in one of the rooms.
It was the worst mistake they could have ever made.
The man was quiet, pleasant for all his stay; he happily chatted with them during dinner, he happily said good night. But when night truly did fall, the mask came off: he slipped out of bed and tiptoed around the house, the red carpet muffling his steps. When the maid found him he lunged at her - snapped her bones like twigs and left her in the laundry room. He then made his way up the house, any butlers or maids that came across him killed immediately. When he reached his parents’ room -
But he didn’t kill them. He locked their door, was all. He locked all the doors, but forgot Genos’. When he was finished, he carefully made out with all the valuables in the house - then to cover his tracks, to assure all in the house to be perished, he methodically and carefully nailed all the windows shut, blocked off all exits, and set a trail of gasoline throughout the house.
He stood in the living room then, holding a cigarette in his mouth before dropping it to the floor and setting the house aflame, locking the front door behind him and leaving.
The house burned - Genos awoke to the choking smell of smoke and immediately scurried outside his room with his bunny in tow, eyes watering, heaving coughs. He scrambled towards his parents room on the other side of the mansion when he heard a snap - he ran towards the living room and saw the chandelier drop to the floor with a crash, glass flying everywhere. The house was on fire, he realized, eyes widening as flames rose from the bottom and started to climb the stairs.
Terrified, he raced towards his parents’ room, shaking hands wrapping around the knob only to find it locked - jammed, from the inside and out, refusing to budge. He screamed for his parents but all he could hear inside were coughs, screams, curses and cries to leave immediately. He couldn’t.
Genos banged on the door, sobbing, dropping his stuffed rabbit onto the floor and using both his tiny hands to pound against the door, listening intently, in horror as the smoke rose and the coughs grew worse. In minutes, in eternity, the coughs grew quieter, less frequent, before the room was quiet altogether.
The fire rose to their floor. Genos turned and ran, burning feet slapping down the fiery stairs as he lunged for the front door only to find the knob stuck. He ran to the windows but they were all nailed, too thick to break. In a final terror he ran upstairs and towards his room, stopping when he saw the hall windows were unlocked - he opened them immediately and prepared to climb out when he realized they were too high up - jumping out would mean… He wailed. He wailed in terror and brought himself back into the house. The fire was now in his hallway. There was nothing left he could do.
Genos ran to his room, locked the door and crawled into the smallest corner, shaking, sobbing, terrified and curling into himself, waiting for the nightmare to end.
The fire was at his door.
Saitama was quiet. Genos almost wondered if he grew bored and stopped listening - he knew his friend had the habit to drone of over long monologues. He turned to look only to let out a gasp as Saitama gazed upon his old bones, tears openly pooling out his eyes and puddling under his chin.
“So that’s why…” he didn’t finish, only letting out a heavy sigh and sinking to the floor, tucking his head into his knees.
Genos immediately felt sorry - he didn't intend to make him cry. He floated over towards him and took in a deep breath, pressing his hand on his head and ever so carefully ruffling his hair. It cost him a little bit of effort and energy, but at the faint feel of his soft black tufts, Genos felt something inside him warm.
“I burned for so many years,” he sighed, “I hated that man so much and wanted him to pay… but it’s okay.”
Saitama shook his head. “It’s not okay,” he shot back, voice muffled and strained.
“I’m okay. I no longer burn, Mis- Saitama, I no longer burn. I’m only warm. You make me feel warm.”
Saitama didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up, but when his hand slowly reached up and graced Genos’, he knew it was going to be okay.
It's almost funny; if he places even a little bit of pressure, his body would go right through; but like this… Genos draped himself over him, using so much of his energy to pass whatever warmth he had over.
They never went back to that room. Saitama only got up, wiped his eyes, a dull look to them but with meaning, and showed him how to properly plant flowers in the garden. “They’ll grow in the spring,” he said. When Genos tried to explain to him that the ground was dead he only shook his head. “It just needs some fertilizer - but they’ll grow in the spring.” They spent the next two weeks quietly taking out the weeds and overgrown grass from the front lawn before winter came and Saitama could no longer visit.
“Hey Saitama,” Sonic called, grinning from the cafeteria table across from him. “Not going up the mountain anymore?”
“It’s too cold,” Saitama mumbled back, poking at the peas on his plate. “Oi, King, you want these?”
“Saitama you should really eat your vegetables…” Mumen happily took a spoonful and plopped them in his mouth. “See? It’s good for you!”
Saitama only stuck his tongue out. “Blahh.”
Tatsumaki shook her head in disapproval, “Honestly, you three - “ she shot a look towards Sonic getting up on the table and shoving cake pops into his mouth as the others laughed - “you four need to grow up! We’re going to be high school students soon!”
“Two years isn’t soon though…”
“Shut up! It’s soon enough for me!”
“Ooh!” Quickly forgetting the angry gremlin, the group turned when Amai stepped into the cafeteria and announced the Spring dance coming out soon.
“Spring dance? That sounds so fun!” Mumen said, “We should all go!”
“There’ll be free food,” Saitama pointed out. He wondered what they’d have, but when his thoughts roamed towards actually going, he felt something was...missing.
“Are you okay, Saitama? You’ve been really happy all summer but lately... you’ve been kind of quiet.”
“Great.” Fubuki rolled her eyes. “Our old Sai has finally come back.”
“Oi - I wasn’t that listless before!”
The other people stared at him. Saitama felt his brow twitch.
“Okay, so maybe I am a little quiet, but - it’s just - I used to meet someone there and now it’s too cold to see them anymore…” he huffed, poking at his food. “And… I kind of uh. Miss them. And stuff.”
He looked back up at the shocked faces around him. “What?”
“Saitama has a girlfriend!”
“He finally got one?”
“I thought I’d never see that day!”
“What - no! He’s not my-”
“Saitama’s got a boyfriend!”
“He finally got one?”
“I thought I’d never see the-”
“You guys-!”
Winter was cold and bleak and Saitama could only make two trips up the mountain - but when it finally ended and spring came around, the middle schooler nearly bolted up the trail and threw himself at Genos, arms encircling for a hug when he felt it - for a split second, skin and a body - before he phased right through him and crashed into the ground in a heap.
“Saitama!” Genos looked down at him but grinned. “Are you all right?”
“Ugh, I’m fine.” He got up and dusted himself off, looking at Genos when he suddenly realized something. “You - “ he pointed at him, “You’ve grown! And you have legs, and not the ghost-tail thing! And you’re kinda more see-through… Ah - ! Your eyes! They look like mine - just ah, golden now.”
Genos only stared at him, softly smiling as Saitama stood across and measured them both, hand on his forehead before moving it across and reaching Genos’.
“You’re as tall as me now! Wow! Wow. Actually at this rate, I think you’ll end up taller…”
“I’ve grown stronger, Saitama.” Genos extended his hand towards him. “Please. Let’s go home, I’ll show you.”
Saitama slowed.
H...Home?
The tulips in spring bloomed around the house and gardens; Saitama looked up and had to fight down an impressed gasp when he saw the state of their house.
It… it almost looked repaired. The roof still had holes and the chandelier was still in the living room, but there were potted plants around the house, and a fire burning in the fireplace.
“I’ve been keeping it lit the entire winter,” Genos said, almost sounding smug about it. “In the case that you’d ever want to visit…”
“Oh. Right, I’m sorry. It was really cold and snowy and I couldn’t make the trip.” Saitama scratched the back of his head, unaware of the golden eyes widening a fraction and taking in his newly developed arms.
When he looked back, Genos snapped away, cheeks red.
“Anyway. I’m happy. You’re getting a lot of energy now, right?”
“Yes. The new life around the house… it makes me feel stronger. I can move more things, and touch more things, and go even farther away - I once made an entire trip to the city.”
“To the city!”
“Yes. I did make a few trips into town too…” at this, Genos lowered his head, almost looking bashful. “But I could not find you.”
“I kind of stayed inside all the time, really.”
“Ah.” Genos looked up, and though his eyes were staring at the ceiling it seemed he was watching the skies. “I feel lighter.”
“That’s good.”
The blonde only stared at him, eyes glimmering.
“So there’s a spring dance coming soon…”
Genos turned over, raising a brow.
They were sitting up top the roof, Saitama repairing what holes there were and filling in the missing pieces.
Saitama flushed. “It’s just a thing at my school. It’s going to be kind of boring anyway, but I was wondering if - “
“Yes.”
“Huh?”
“I would be honored to go with you. I’m strong enough to go into town, remember?”
“Yeah but - won’t other people see you?”
“No. I can make myself visible to whom I choose - only the people I want will see me. And I only want you to see me.”
The things this guy says... Saitama rubbed the back of his neck as the teasing from earlier came to mind. “Geez…” He looked down at his work and realized they were finished. “Hey - wow. I think we’re done. What’s next?”
Genos stopped smiling. Eyes widening, he looked down at himself before visibly calming down. “Not much. Just getting rid of the chandelier.”
“That's it? Huh. I’m actually kind of proud, then. I never really thought I’d get anything done - especially not a house.”
“I am glad too. But…”
“What?”
“Let’s take our time with this, please. There’s no rush anymore.”
Saitama raised a brow, confused. “Okay… then I guess we can just-”
“Holy crap! It’s real!”
They stopped and peered over the rooftop; down below was Sonic and the Tank Top brothers, gaping up at the giant house.
“Oh hell," Saitama cursed.
Genos’ eyes flickered towards him. “Did you invite them?”
“No! They must’ve followed me, those guys…”
“What do we do? I don’t want them inside the house.”
“Just uh… oh! Oi!” He called form above, scaring the crap out of the three boys. “Sonic!”
At the sound of his call, his self-proclaimed rival jolted back and looked up at the sky, bewildered. “Wha - h-how do you know my name?”
What? "No, you-" Ssaitama stopped and suddenly had an idea. They think this place is haunted. That means... He grinned, nudging Genos. “I am the ghost that haunts this very house! Bewaaaaaaare!”
Genos let out a loud laugh before covering his mouth, fighting off a fit of chuckles as Saitama sucked in a deep breath and bellowed out, “If you do not leave immediately, you will be cursed!”
The brothers paled. “C-C-Cursed? But we’re not even in the house!”
“You’re on the premises and that’s close enough!”
Sonic took a step back, confusion, terror and disbelief swirling over his features as he looked around. “T-Then where’s Saitama…?”
“He is a welcomed guest!” Genos added in, grinning. “But you are not - leave immediately or be cursed forever!”
Saitama covered his mouth, cackling. “I think they need a little push more. Genos?”
“I’m on it.” He closed his eyes, hair slightly rising, body glowing in a strange white light before he shot his arms out and a giant blast of wind swept across the yard and sent the three middle schoolers tumbling backwards.
“W-Wha - oh forget this!” Sonic turned back and darted away, the two terrified brothers running after screaming.
Neither of them heard the sound of two boys absolutely losing it on the rooftop, laughter echoing for miles around.
For the first time in his life, Saitama was terribly worried over how he looked.
“Does the flower look right? Is my hair ok?”
“You like fine, Saitama. For the fifth time,” his mother mumbled, “Now stop moving, I’m trying to comb your hair.”
Saitama nervously fixed his collar. “I hate this. I hate feeling nervous. Are you 100% sure that I - “
“You look fine, sweetheart, honestly! She’s going to love you!”
Saitama’s face flushed. “What do you mean love ?! No one’s talking about - Genos isn’t my... It's just a dance! I’m going out now! Bye!”
“What? You’re not going to let me take a picture?”
“Bye!”
He quickly closed the door and huffed, hurrying down the street to where they agreed they’d -
“Saitama!”
Genos looked the same as always - the same simple buttoned-up shirt and pants, the same blonde locks… Only now he looked incredibly faint. Kind of like a-
Saitama slowed down, staring at him.
Kind of like a ghost, his thought finished. He’d nearly forgotten. “H...Hi, Genos.”
“Hello, Saitama. You look well.”
“Ah - thanks.” Two hours of freaking out over this was now worth it. Genos looked off to the side, almost looking exhausted, before reaching out and handing him something. “Here.”
Saitama took the gift, looking it over with a smile. “You got me a tulip.”
“I thought the color would fit.”
Huh. The tulip was yellow, but with reddish-orange tips. What’d that mean? Saitama shrugged but liked it anyway. “Thanks, Genos. We should go.”
When the blonde nodded, he looked tired, but happy.
The spring dance was everything Saitama would thought it to be; loud, annoying, but good punch. A lot of his peers were teasing but nice, and told him he was free to join whenever he’d like (and even Sonic, albeit grumbling and reluctant, did say he was “sorta cool” for climbing up the mountain every day.)
Genos was happy. He didn’t say much and it was a little hard to make out his outline in the crowd, but right when Saitama caught him staring off into the crowds, he saw the way his lips were curled upwards in a permanent smile. Every time Genos caught him staring, he turned to look at him and smiled even wider, a little sadder, though.
“Is something wrong?”
“No. I’m happy. Really.” He sighed, leaning back against Saitama, nuzzling into his neck. “I’m so happy.”
“You look tired. Want to go?”
Genos said nothing, only looking out at the room one last time before turning to him and nodding.
“So what do you want to do at the house?” Saitama said as they hiked up the mountain, the bright moon painting strokes of light through the trees. “I didn’t really bring anything with me, sorry.”
“It’s fine. We just need to do one last thing.”
“Okay?” Saitama looked down to where Genos was holding his hand, trembling. “You can let go, if you want. I know you’re using a lot of energy for this.”
“I don’t want to let go.”
They passed their field, Saitama only taking a look at the shimmering silver pool down hill before, wondering when they'll go visit again when they made their ways through the trees and reached the house.
Saitama was immediately left breathless. The house looked...complete. Not in the construction sense; there was just no way one dead kid and a middle schooler could fully repair an actual mansion; but...standing tall and proud, tulips in the garden blooming and fireflies lighting the colors and rising up like a crowd of tiny souls... the house looked ready to rest.
He wanted to tell Genos when they reached the door and he raised his hand, the heavy wood immediately bowing open under his command. There in the center was the quiet chandelier.
Oh. “You wanted to finish? Why didn’t you say so?”
Genos said nothing, only squeezing his hand tighter. Together, they walked towards it and lifted the heavy thing up, carefully pulling old brass piece out the door and setting it by the front door.
“There,” Genos whispered. “It’s done.”
He didn’t say anything more, only holding tightly to Saitama’s hand.
Saitama looked at the chandelier, before his eyes slid up to the far window on the left of the house. “What about your room?” He opened and closed his mouth, all other words...better left unsaid. It still hurt to think about Genos, his Genos, left all alone for so long...
“I cleaned it myself. Over the winter.”
It was then Saitama noticed the small rabbit plush sitting on a square of dirt, little buds sprouting from the ground. He had buried himself. His eyes widened in shock; suddenly, all the pieces were coming together: Genos growing, Genos able to move things, to command things, to look so vivid only to fade away and finally-
He turned around and Genos was crying.
“I was supposed to leave by then," he said, shoulders shaking with a sob. "When I - I felt I was supposed to leave after I cleaned that room, but,” he reached up and wiped his eyes, “But I just wanted to see you again, I wanted to go to the dance so much, I...”
Saitama felt a lump in his throat. “Oh.” He squeezed his hand around Genos’; it wasn’t skin, never felt like it really, but it was Genos all the same. “Okay. That's okay, just come back soon.”
Genos stared at him, tears glistening over before throwing himself at him, grinning, crying, nuzzling under his chin and letting out a laugh. “I promise - but you have to find me next time, Saitama!” He let out a sob, joy and sorrow swirling in a strange mix. "Please look for me!"
“Okay." Saitama's was voice strained and high, nuzzling into his fading hair and letting out a shaky breath, eyes welling over until droplets were leaking off his chin and hit the empty space between them. Saitama’s hands phased right through the air and he caught himself.
"Okay."
There's no house up the mountain anymore; they teared it down for construction and made several attempts to build new property...though with a raging mob of high schoolers and a few negotiations later, it was decided to let the land remain untouched, lest some old ghosts remain. Nonetheless, sometimes the local middle schools nearby would take their classes uphill to the field of tulips in spring, leave flowers to the single grave marked up top and warn the children of fires, tell them stories of a lone wandering ghost looking for a friend.
They say to be very quiet:
You can hear the sound of a faint laugh in the tulips.