Chapter Text
Genos walked for approximately twenty-five minutes before he was able to get a read on anything that wasn't an animal. Stopping by the edge of the stream he’d been following, the cyborg focused on the heat signature that suggested something human. It was somewhere west, nearly parallel to the stream, about a ten-minute walk away. It didn’t seem to be moving much from what Genos could tell, but at such a distance he couldn’t be certain.
From what little he’d seen of it, the woods here were large. Not so dense as to be extremely dangerous for any civilian who wandered around, but there were a fair amount of animals and it seemed mostly uninhabited by human or monster alike. Genos had leapt a few times into the air to get a good look at things, but all he’d seen from above the treeline was more and more green. It would have been too dangerous to use his blasters to go any higher — he was here to investigate suspicious activities and possible monster attacks, not start a forest fire.
His walk to the signature was uneventful. Genos noticed as he got closer there were clear signs that people have been exploring here before. There were traces farther in the woods — old footprints, broken branches, along with a small assortment of misplaced litter; he had taken note of a few candy wrappers and a shoe that looked like it belonged to a child, those being just a couple of things hidden in the grass. Now he could see clearer footsteps, marking oft-trodden trails going in multiple directions. Genos honed in on the most obviously used path and walked along, noting how bushes and tree branches had been moved or broken to open it up more.
Most interesting to Genos were the number of strawberry bushes growing in the area. He was familiar with the plant, having encountered a fair amount of wild strawberries during his travels in search of the mad cyborg. They made for a nice treat during his tireless hunt, allowing him to go a few extra days before he needed to be around people in order to get more food. The strawberries growing here were small and hung in little red clusters, accented with underdeveloped white blooms. Genos took a few as he went, allowing himself to find some vague comfort in their flavor, and noting how many of the bushes appeared to have been trimmed. Someone keeping an eye on wild produce?
Finally, forest gave way to a proper dirt road, and Genos immediately saw where the signature must be coming from. In front of him was what appeared to be a small cliff-face, a foundation of rock leading into a distant range of mountains rising in north. Constructed at the base of this cliff is a house. One-story, wood and brick, with a small porch and thatched roof. From where Genos was standing, he could see a small bed of flowers growing around the side, and more greenery between the back of the building and the cliff.
What an odd place to construct a house, Genos thought as he approached. Yet, despite its peculiar placement (against a cliff, in the middle of the woods?), Genos couldn't help but think it seemed… strangely perfect. He found himself enamored with the color of the wood, the style of the roof, the charming brick foundations and the windows with their flower-beds hanging from the sill. There are plants all over, pretty yellow things growing in the windows and tiny purple buds hiding in the shadow of the porch.
Sensing movement close by, Genos snapped out of his serene fixation and focused on something near the front door. It was a round object, soft-looking—
Oh. was a cat.
A very fat cat, Genos noted as it turned to him. Its little nub of a tail waged back and forth as their eyes met.
Genos has never felt compelled to talk to animals as if they could understand him. That was a habit of his sensei; the man often tried to coo at stray cats in the neighborhood, desperate to talk them into letting him get even one pet in, only to be forever rejected. It wouldn’t be inaccurate to say Genos fostered a bit of a grudge against felines in general since moving in with Saitama.
Somehow, looking at this cat, watching as it approached him with not even a hint of fear despite the fact he was a stranger, Genos felt compelled to speak. “Hello…” he tried, and was shocked when his greeting was met with a friendly meow, and soon there was a large fat calico sitting on his feet and rubbing against his jeans.
“Excuse me…”
The cat rolled onto its back — ah, her back — and meowed. Genos frowned. Saitama had once explained that cats don’t really like getting close to strangers. “It’s easier if they’re domestic,” he’d explained, “‘cause they’re used to people messing with ‘em.” But the man also said it was unusual for a cat to be so friendly as to show its belly off to someone. Leaving the neck or stomach vulnerable was a sign of trust, he’d said. Genos remembered clearly, having immediately written it down in one of his notebooks.
“You must be a very friendly cat,” Genos observed, staring down at her expectant gaze. “Either that or very foolish. Why do you trust me? I don’t even look nice.”
“Meow.”
“Don’t lie. I’m a cyborg, I know I don’t look like the sort to be petting cats.”
“Mrooow.”
“I don’t know why I’m arguing with you,” Genos said, very much to himself, since there is no reason to hold a conversation with a cat. The feline seemed to finally realize she wasn’t getting any attention and resolved to roll back onto her feet. She bounced back up the porch steps and began scratching at the door.
Genos remembered why he came here in the first place and followed her. Whoever he picked up on his sensors must be the cat’s owner. He would talk to them, explain his situation, and ask for directions out of the forest. If they didn't know an efficient route back, perhaps he could make his way up the mountain and get a better look of things from there…
Genos was about to knock when he heard a voice from inside yell, “Forks, that you? Gimmie a sec!”
The cyborg froze, body tense. That was… no, it couldn’t be. There was no way he was out here. It was just someone who sounded… disturbingly similar…
But Genos couldn’t convince himself of that. No, that had been him — there was no way he would ever mistake his sensei’s voice for someone else. Something about it had been off — the slightest, unfamiliar inflection, a mellow cadence — but not enough to disguise him.
Genos pushed the door open. Forks slipped in, meowing with delight, and Genos watched her plump body hop out of a spacious half-moon genkan and round a nearby corner.
“Hey, how the heck’d you get in? If you’ve figured out how to open doors by yourself, we’re in trouble.”
“Hello?” Genos called out, cautiously, burning with curiosity. He stayed firmly at the door, one hand clutching to the knob as he quickly observed his immediate surroundings. To his right was a moderately sized sitting area with two wide couches and a love seat oriented around a large television. It was a flat-screen stationed within an entertainment center. There were well-organized stacks of DVDs and video games tucked away in its many shelves. One of the small doors was open, revealing a game system Genos had never seen before, though something about the controllers was oddly familiar.
“Oh! You’re home early!”
There came the sound of footsteps approaching, and for some reason Genos felt something like panic swell up inside him. He wasn’t upset or scared, but something, something was wrong, or at least he didn’t understand what was going on. How could his sensei be here? In this lone house, in the middle of nowhere, days from City Z? With a cat? Calling back to Genos like he was expecting the cyborg to be here?
And something about his voice too, the way it changed when he realized it was Genos at the door. He sounded so… bright. Happy.
What the hell was going on?
“Yanno, you really gotta stop making these tart things,” said the voice, and as he rounded the corner Genos nearly wrenched the doorknob right off. “They’re so good, I’m can’t stop shoving ‘em in my dumb mouth—”
The man who looked like Saitama stopped, stared, and almost dropped his plate of treats. Genos could see the way his hands clenched the plate, could hear the faint sound of ceramic straining against his grip, threatening to crack.
“What the hell happened to you!?” the man cried out, startling Genos, who stood frozen beneath alarmed brown eyes. Just like his. It couldn’t be. “You said it was just gonna be a quick trip, I don’t— What the hell babe? What attacked you? Is it in the neighborhood?”
“I-I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“I can’t believe this! But, how did you—? Woah. Woah, wait a second. Wait, wait.” The man, who had set his tray down on a nearby table and begun to approach Genos, paused. He narrowed his eyes the same way sensei did when he was scrutinizing coupons. “Wait. You’re… small.”
“I… Pardon me?”
“You’re small. What the fuck, why do you look so little? And... where’s your ring?”
The man’s voice grew soft and strangely despondent. It made something in Genos’ chest ache. “What ring? I’m sorry, but something... What’s going on?” Genos took a deep breath, core pulsing, anxious. “Sensei…?”
The man jerked back a half-step, eyes wide, reflecting more emotion than Genos had ever seen in Saitama’s face — ever. His sensei was often a blank slate. Not so much stoic as he was plain and straightforward, slowly working through thoughts and emotions before they could show on his face. He wasn’t without emotion, certainly not; Genos had become so very familiar with all the ways his sensei would express his frustration, contentment, amusement, anxiety, sadness. But this was different. This man, wearing his sensei’s face—
His eyes such a bright, rich brown, and Genos could read his thoughts so very clearly. There were many, flying by as his thoughts no doubt raced, but Genos caught one, shining prominently in his eyes—
Fear.
“You’re not… you’re not him. Genos?”
“I am Genos.”
A pause. The man pursed his lips, frowning deeply. His posture was defensive, and strangely vulnerable, shoulders hunched by his ears as he stared Genos down. The cyborg was suddenly desperate to establish himself as harmless, if only so such an air of uncertainty would no longer hang off his sensei’s frame like a heavy shadow.
“I am Genos,” the teen repeated carefully. He took off his shoes, pushing them to the side and bowing slightly. “I’m sorry for… intruding.”
“You’re Genos,” the man said. He took a deep breath, then asked, “You called me sensei?”
“I did. You look like my sensei.”
“Saitama, right?”
“Yes.”
“Holy shit. God, you haven’t called me that in ages…” The man put a hand on his face and sighed. It looked like he was deflating, one hand on his knee as he rubbed his cheek. “What the actual fuck, dude?”
“So you are Saitama-sensei?”
“That’s me. And you’re Genos.”
“Yes.”
“But not my Genos.”
The teen shivered at his tone. “I do not believe so… Please, Sensei, can you explain…?” He faltered, unsure where to even begin.
“Okay! Okay.” Saitama stood up straight, crossing his arms. “So, this is probably some weird monster shit, right? I’ve seen enough of that to know when it’s probably the case. Some sort of magic monster shit. Were you fighting anything?”
“No, Sensei. I came to this area because I was asked to investigate some strange occurrences in the countryside near City M. While there were mentions of a possible monster presence, I did not see any during my investigations.”
Saitama stared at him, face having reverted to a much more familiar, harder-to-read state. He opened his mouth, hesitating before he spoke. After a moment, he unfolded his arms and pointed a finger at Genos. “You can’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t call me that. You— you just can’t. You don’t call me that anymore.”
Genos felt like he was losing every last scrap of his sanity. “I… don’t?”
For a moment — just a moment — Genos thought he could see red on Saitama’s cheeks. But it was gone as the man shook his head and insisted, “Yeah, not anymore. You call me Saitama now. So just call me Saitama, okay? It’s… weird… when you use the other word. You haven’t been calling me that for like… Fuck, I dunno, ten years at least? More, I think.”
“Sen— Saitama-san. May I please sit down somewhere?”
“I think we both need to sit down,” Saitama agreed, sighing again as he gestured for the blonde to come in.