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It was a normal day.
The sky was blue, clouds were white and fluffy, sun was warm and pleasing, and Saitama had just punched a hole through a monster.
Nothing very interesting.
Except - wait, what was that? The hero frowned as he heard a muffled scream in the back of his head, and he tugged at his ear with his finger. Was he finally going insane?
Movement in his peripheral vision made him turn, absentmindedly stepping to the side to avoid the now deceased villain. The movement he had detected was a lightpost in the motion of toppling over, having been affected by the powerful wind from the mere swing of his hand. The annoying scream seemed to be coming from an unsuspecting citizen, who was running for some reason from underneath the…oh.
The scream cut off suspiciously.
Saitama blinked slowly, un-clenching his fist.
“Woops.”
“For the last time! It’s my foot that’s broken, not my hand! I can feed myself!”
“B-But-”
The nurse shrieked and ducked out the room, a thrown spork hitting the door with great force. You mumbled underneath your breath in agitation.
“Great. Now what am I supposed to eat this sludge with.”
You would probably have more sympathy for the nurse if she hadn’t been bothering you for a half an hour straight, trying to hand feed you freaking porridge. You glanced at the unidentifiable gooey grey substance in the plastic bowl in your lap. If this was even porridge.
You suddenly didn’t want to know the answer to that.
Your eyebrow twitched as you lifted the bowl to your mouth. There was no answer to how you had gotten in this hospital, or who had even injured you. It was ridiculous. How had no one noticed the man in the actual air punching down that skyscraper of a monster? How could everyone possibly be clueless to his existence?? You would search him up online but unfortunately you only caught a glimpse of the individual before you were knocked out.
A growl vibrated through your chest as you slammed the bowl down. When you found out who the person was who had landed you here, you were going to show them no mercy.
Someone was leaving you flowers.
Every day. It had begun about half a week ago and continued without fail. Every morning you woke up, they were there, on your side table, freshly artificial in a bouquet and everything. Being fake, they didn’t rot and you couldn’t even throw them away, so they just piled and piled until your entire table was overflowing.
You had asked your nurse who was leaving them there but apparently she was just as confused, thinking you knew who it was. What a bunch of baloney. At first you thought she was just messing with you - maybe she’d been leaving them all along - but as she kept denying, you realized she was telling the truth.
Or your nurse was just a really great liar.
You took it upon yourself to solve the mystery. They were there every morning, so it was sometime between when you went to bed and woke that the person had to be leaving them. And the staff had no idea, so they couldn’t have come up through conventional ways. So how?
In the end you decided to simply wait out the night. If it was after sundown the person decided to come, then all you had to do was stay awake.
So that would explain why you had a flashlight on at midnight, head buried in your pillow, eyes wide open and the sheets up to your neck. The clock ticked in the corner, like a metronome, the repetitive sound seeming to time your doom.
It was nearing two a.m. and you were thinking that this was a dumb idea and that you were doing this for nothing when a creak sounded. You shut off the flashlight instantaneously, closing your eyes and pretending to be asleep.
Silence.
Then a shuffling noise, increasingly getting louder. You smiled victoriously into the pillow. Just a little closer…
There.
“AHA!” You sat up as quickly as an injured person could, turning on the flashlight and pointing it towards where you heard the sound.
Another silence.
You stared. The guy with a hand on your window sill and one leg through stared right back.
You weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t this.
“Uh..” He wobbled in, tripping a bit before rubbing his head. He lifted the flowers. “I’m just gonna leave this her-”
“You listen here you little piece of crap-”
“Care to tell me why you were creeping into my room last night?” You asked the following morning, glaring down the man, tapping your fingers impatiently on your good leg.
He never adjusted his slouch, yawning. Those pinprick eyes showed such a lack of emotion it unnerved you. His attire was changed from the previous night, yet you couldn’t tell a single thing different about his countenance.
“For congratulations? Wait no…not that…’good will’ I think it was…” He scratched his cheek. You had the strangest feeling he was making it up as he went along.
“How did you even get up here?!” You scowled. “This is the fourth floor!”
When all he did was stare you sighed, sliding your palm down your face.
“Nevermind that. The more important question: do I need to get a restraining order?”
“A what?” He finally showed some sort of human emotion, jerking slightly. “Why?”
“Um, number one,” you counted on your fingers. “You’ve slunk through my window every night for the past week while I was sleeping. Two, I don’t even know you. Three, you came into my room when I was sleeping did I mention that already?”
He seemed to be ignoring you completely, glaring at the wall. “Genos said females liked having flowers given to them.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” He shoved his hand back into the pockets of his oversized sweater. “I was told that this was the ‘nice’ thing to do - though I am now realizing the person I took that advice from may have not been the best choice.”
(Symbols and calculations circling round in molten gold eyes, a cyborg slamming his hands on the table. “The appropriate census on the world wide web indicates that you should appeal to their pleasures with flowers and or other aesthetic imager-”)
“That still doesn’t answer why you feel like you have to get them.”
“Ah,” He droned, those eyes, bottomless, void, looking right into you like he was seeing your soul. “Well I did get you in this position in the first place. Common courtesy I guess.”
You paused.
Confusion made you narrow your eyes, only for them to widen as realization sparked, as you matched the blurry memory of the hero that fateful day to the face in front of you.
Then you were livid, and Saitama was dodging an assortment of small handheld objects.
“It was you!!”
The next day, he came again.
You scowled heavily, narrowing your eyes as he closed the door behind him.
“Why are you here?”
He only blinked at you, placing another bouquet on your table, those eyes boring into yours.
“I told you it was the nice thing to do.”
He kept coming after that.
You didn’t ask why, and he never said. It just became a thing of routine.
He’d come at exactly three in the afternoon, then leave somewhere nearing five. It was like clockwork. (Through the door this time, and not the window like a weirdo.)
After you’d thoroughly expressed your dislike for the flowers, he decided to bring something different every time. They were always random, and never connected. In time, it became a game for you to guess what he would be taking next.
“Darts?”
“Nah.”
Spoiler alert - you guessed wrong every single time.
“Cards?”
“Nope.”
“Dang it.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Hmm?” You looked up from the book, surprised at his voice. It was past five. You’d thought he left.
“When you get out of here. Where?” His face betrayed nothing. You met his soulless gaze for a second before you looked away. You could never hold his eyes for too long - it gave you shivers.
“Hmm,” You mused, flipping a page. “I’d like to see J-City. I heard there’s some pretty cool sightseeing there. Although some of it was destroyed by that Sea King the other day. Scary. Do you know about that?”
He only gave a small shrug, humming.
“I suppose I’ve heard.”
“Uh…bagels?”
“Not even close.”
You licked your lips in thought.
“How is your head so shiny?”
“We’re not having this conversation.”
“No, but seriously. You said you were a hero, right? Is it some sort of specialty or-?”
“No it’s not a specialty. Shut up.”
“Tsk…touchy.”
“…some kind of game? Monopoly?”
“Nope.”
After a while you simply stopped trying.
“What’s it today huh?”
“Dango,” He said shortly, lifting up the takeout bag in his left hand and making his way across the room in a few steps. There was an unmistakable stickiness to his lips, a stain flowering on his collar.
“You glutton,” You glowered, shaking the package. “You already ate half of it.”
He snatched another sweet, popping it into his mouth with no shame whatsoever, leaning against the wall.
“Mmph,” He said around the dumpling. “What are we doing today?”
You lifted a box on your pillow, stretching to get the cricks out of your back. “Nurse dropped off some puzzles.”
He was late today.
Given it was only by two minutes and thirty seconds, but it threw you off. Why was he late? What had happened? You forced yourself to calm down. You were being incredibly impractical. He would come in due time.
By the time it was nearing four o clock, you had lost all hope.
“Of course he wouldn’t come,” You murmured, pressing the heel of your palm to your forehead and looking out the window. He had to stop one day. Maybe his life caught up with him. Maybe he simply forgot. Why would he keep visiting you of all people?
“Of course who wouldn’t come?”
You jolted, head snapping up. Chocolate, dilated pupils looked right back. He was crouching right next to you - how did you not notice him come up? - with his cheek resting in his palm.
“You-!” You recoiled. A multitude of thoughts ran through your mind, but only one slipped through to your tongue. “What are you wearing?”
“Rude,” He drawled, brushing off the bright yellow outfit he was donning, dirt splattered over a half of his face and a streak of red - suspiciously browning red - on his left cheek. His gloves were crimson, too crimson - was one dripping-?
“It’s my hero costume,” He brushed dirt out of his pants with no regard for personal decency, and you looked away so that you wouldn’t glimpse something you would regret. “Which is also why I was late by the way. I…ran into something.”
“I’ve never heard of you,” You realized. Which meant he must not be all that. You ignored the strange pang of relief that he wasn’t popular - that you wouldn’t have to vie for his attention. “What are you, new? Did you catch a thief or something just now?”
“Or something,” He hummed distractedly.
“Well that seems like a legitimate excuse,” You rubbed your neck. “I uh….I’m sorry for doubting you.”
He tilted his head at you before he lifted from his crouch to stand fully, expression not changing in the slightest.
“Why am I the only one?”
“What?” You asked, put off by the change in topic.
“I noticed,” he continued. “That no one else has left you anything. And I haven’t seen a single visitor besides myself. Why?”
You glanced away, pointedly staring at the white sheets. There was silence, then a sigh.
“I brought you one of my manga today,” He drawled, as if he had said nothing, as if the entire exchange didn’t exist.
You swallowed, fighting the burn in your eyes at his respect.
“A-ah. It better not suck.”
The wind was nice.
It was refreshing, you thought as you stood at the exit to the hospital. It felt so good to move, to walk again, to get out of that bed. Your leg was still in a brace, but any major damage that confined you to that mattress was healed. The nurse had gave you a warning to take it easy, (and with a comment about letting up on throwing sporks) before you were completely let go. You’d be able to take off the brace in no less than two weeks.
You lifted your wrist, checking your watch and increasing your pace. 2:30 pm. It was getting too close to the time, you should get out of here befo-
“Antsy are we?”
You stopped still, shame burning hot and deep in your stomach.
“Saitama.”
“Me,” He responded blandly.
“You’re early,” You sighed, looking anywhere but his face.
“I wanted to surprise you,” He said. “Clearly I was the one who was getting the surprise.”
You winced. “Look-”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting released today?” He asked, and it was the first time you saw him frown, saw something that resembled hurt flicker behind those bottomless eyes before they glazed back over. “And you purposefully wanted to leave before I got here?”
“Well why do you keep coming?!” You hissed, biting your lip. “I’m healed now. I’m fine. You said it yourself - you were being courteous. You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“You think I was pretending? All that time?” His lips pressed into a tight line.
“What else would you be doing?!” You completely blew up. Angry tears stained your vision. “You were right the other day. Nobody comes; no one else cares.” The words had been kept in for so long, burrowing deep, that once they came out they just kept spilling. “You’ve been my only visitor. You don’t need to bother with me anymore.”
The wind picked up, rustling your clothes.
Then he was striding forward. A hand slipped into yours, tugging you forward.
“What are you doing?” you mumbled, tired from the outburst, still simmering, tears freely leaking.
“Come on.” He kept walking.
“No. Leave.”
“Come on.”
“I said to leave.”
“Shh.”
“What are you doing?”
He turned his head towards you, and a small smile pulled up the edges of his lips. It was barely anything - and yet it was so much. Your breath hitched.
His fingers interlocked with yours, squeezing tight.
“I said I would take you to see J-City.”