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“What’s the score?”
The sun was beating down and Genos imagined it was hot out. It was a perfect summer day but the humidity was making those among them who were affected by temperature sweat. He glanced at the scoreboard, having to squint against the afternoon glare. “We’re up by 2. The score is 100-98, sensei,” he replied.
Saitama whistled, the sound echoing in the makeshift dugout he’d punched into the ground of the clearing. “That’s what happens when a bunch of superheroes play baseball, I guess,” he said, idly kicking at the cooler of water bottles he had tasked himself with guarding and giving out.
Genos tilted his head. “Is it an unusual score?” he asked, just as an ear-splitting crack shot through the clearing. Both he and Saitama watched as a baseball – or, what was left of a baseball – careened through the air and well beyond any of their line of sight.
“Yeah,” Saitama-sensei said, eyes wide as he watched the disintegrated ball disappear over the horizon. “It’s a little weird.”
“You’re cheating!” a young voice shouted from the outfield. Child Emperor’s backpack-appendages had extended to their full height – he’d clearly tried to catch the ball that would have been nigh uncatchable by any of them (except for Saitama-sensei, Genos thought privately).
Tatsumaki stood at home base; she hadn’t bothered running to earn her homerun, waving a hand to flip the scorecard until it updated: 100-99. “There’s no rule against using our powers,” she said shortly, crossing her arms across her chest as the ethereal green glow giving away the use of her psychic power faded. “It’s just discouraged.”
Metal Bat was walking off the pitcher’s mound, rolling his eyes. “Well, game’s over anyway,” he said with a shrug, not seeming too bothered by that fact. “Unless one you were smart enough to bring a spare ball.”
S Class heroes could be praised for a great many things but forward-thinking didn’t seem to be among any of their collective abilities. And so, that week’s “team bonding exercise”, as the Hero Association called it, came to an unceremonious end. Like Metal Bat, no one seemed too bothered by its early demise.
“Glad that’s over,” Saitama-sensei said once the others had taken their water bottles and cleared out, each heading to do whatever it was that S-Classes did when there weren’t monsters to fight or baseball games to play. “It’s too hot out for sports.”
Genos frowned, reaching down to help pick up the few plastic bottles that had been discarded in the false dugout throughout the short game. “You didn’t even play, sensei,” he said, concern tugging at his voice. “Were you uncomfortable? You did not have to attend,” he said with a sigh.
This had been something only S-Class heroes had been mandated to participate in. Saitama had insisted on coming, saying he had to be there to cheer Genos on; Genos was pretty sure he just wanted to see the inevitable spectacle and name-calling that broke out whenever the S-Class heroes were gathered in one place for too long.
“Not any more uncomfortable than I would have been at home in this heat,” he said, tugging at the front of his shirt, trying to get it to stop sticking in the sweat. “We might have to turn the AC on if this keeps up,” he grumbled, and Genos’ eyes went wide.
This weather must be truly terrible, if sensei would even entertain such a thought.
“Want to pick something up for dinner on the way back? We should keep the stove off too if we can help it,” sensei said as he climbed out of the bunker-dugout, gesturing for Genos to hop up with him.
“If that is what sensei thinks is best,” Genos replied with a nod. He looked around one last time at the makeshift baseball diamond they’d made out of scorch-marks in the clearing ground for bases and piled up dirt in the center to indicate where the pitcher would stand. Genos had never been to a baseball game but he suddenly wanted to; what little he had seen of the game was intriguing.
“Something tells me they’re going to have to think of something better than baseball for ‘team bonding’,” sensei said with a chuckle, apparently amused by the disorder that had so reliably erupted from the situation. “Maybe you should all go S-class-skiing,” he said, blending the words together into one mess of sound, smiling at his verbal handiwork.
Genos didn’t get what was funny, but he couldn’t help a small smile anyway. “Would sensei join us for that instead? I’m sure they wouldn’t have minded you joining one of our teams for baseball,” Genos said, eyes landing on sensei and holding there. He was curious as to why sensei had been so adamant about sticking with the cooler – “Water boy is a B-Class kind of job,” he’d said with a shrug. Genos wasn’t sure what a water boy did for a team but it apparently had nothing to do with actually playing the game.
Which was a shame, really. He’d wanted to see Saitama-sensei play; maybe he didn’t want to see a baseball game after all. Maybe he just wanted to see sensei play.
But Saitama just shrugged, turning them down the street towards the convenience store so they could pick up their heat-free dinners. “Didn’t really want to anyway. It’d be too hard for me to follow the rules you all had,” he said, characteristically unbothered.
Genos shook his head, refusing to accept that as a reason. “There weren’t rules, as you saw,” he said with a short scoff; Tatsumaki certainly hadn’t treated them as such. “You feel as though your strength would give you an unfair advantage but the others have their powers as well.”
“Eh, it’s true but,” Saitama-sensei started, shrugging again as he tried to put what he was thinking into words. “I never got picked for sports teams when I was little, you know? Not that I minded. I thought gym class was just as bad as every other class,” he said with a snort. “It was never fun being on a team that was so clearly outmatched. I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone else, yeah--? Oi, Genos,” he said.
Genos had stopped in his tracks about a block from the convenience store, searching his person frantically. “My apologies sensei, I just need to note what you said—“
“Not in this heat,” Saitama cried, grabbing him by the arm and tugging him the rest of the way to the convenience store. “What’s that about anyway? Nothing I said was worth writing down,” he grumbled, as he always did when Genos sought to record what he said verbatim.
“I disagree, sensei,” Genos said, letting himself be dragged in through the convenience store doors. “You did not want to ruin the game and so you refrained from participating, even when you would have been welcome,” he said, tapping at his half-written note once they were inside.
Saitama had made a beeline for the discount frozen entrees, but stopped short when he heard what Genos had written. “’Welcome,’ might be a strong word,” he said dryly, but Genos shook his head vehemently.
“They would have had to allow it on my request,” he said, glad that his S-rank was good for something sometimes. “But, sensei, I respect you wanting to ensure the game was fair,” he said, sighing through his vents. “You always find ways to remind me of how uniquely good you are, Saitama-sensei,” he said, and he couldn’t tell if it was because they’d just come in from the heat and they were suddenly with the frozen goods but – his body suddenly felt much warmer.
And the pink tinging the tops of sensei’s ears seemed to indicate it might not have much to do with the temperature change for either of them. “Y-you don’t need to say stuff like that, Genos,” he said, shaking his head as he reached to poke a finger against the center of Genos’ chest. “I’m just looking for a fair fight. Or a fair game. Nothing noble about it,” he said, turning pointedly away and choosing to glare at their food options instead.
Genos couldn’t help a small smile; he’d never seen anyone else react to compliments the way Saitama-sensei did. But this one he was adamant about. Before he could think better of it, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around sensei’s shoulders, hugging him loosely from behind. Saitama jumped, the sudden warm presence of cyborg catching him off guard.
“Let’s go to a baseball game together, sensei,” he said, nuzzling his forehead against the back of Saitama’s neck. It seemed silly to do but sensei never believed his compliments; he had to reinforce what he was saying somehow. And, it was just a bonus that sensei smelled nice as always, but with a saline twinge of sweat and sun.
“U-uh sure,” Saitama replied, evidently trying to roll with the sudden hug in public. “If we can find tickets on sale, we should go—“ he started to say, but his words died and reincarnated as a relieved sigh as Genos let up the hug, standing at his full height again.
“I’ll keep an eye out, sensei,” Genos said with another smile; then, he finally turned to the task at hand. “Sensei, look: the crab cake microwave meal is on sale.”
“Oi!” Saitama exclaimed, delighted by the find. “Nice work, Genos. “Let’s get these and go, maybe we can catch a baseball game on TV,” he said, reaching into the freezer and tossing a dinner Genos’ way.
Genos nodded, his eyes gone wide again, just like he’d seen another ball blow up on the horizon. “That sounds wonderful, sensei,” he said, his voice sounding impossibly fond in his own ears. It was silly, how something so simple made him so happy these days.