Chapter Text
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Amai didn’t typically want anything. Possessions and people alike rarely met his standards. And he was already a celebrity and a top hero; there wasn’t much left to work for, aside from occasionally struggling with new song lyrics.
At least that was how it had been, and for several years. But now nothing was enough. He wasn’t strong enough, he wasn’t beautiful enough.
He was lonely.
Not in that cliche sense of the loneliness of celebrity. Rather in a specific sense, a certain need that could only be filled by the company of the now A-Class hero Saitama.
Amai had never been so surprised by anyone.
First came disdain. Then admiration, which faded into idolatry. Romantic desires were secondary, though he couldn’t ignore them, and they tangled in with all his other feelings as they grew more intense.
He’d reached the point of obsession, and he knew he had a problem, but he didn’t care to fix it.
He trained morning to night and fell behind on his idol career to try and match the man in beauty. But they were always apart, not even acquaintances. The only times Amai could see Saitama was through video surveillance footage taken from the Association.
Things had to change.
He couldn’t just ask the man for his company without any collateral. Amai had to prove himself worthy of Saitama’s attention.
When he finally got his chance it came as a demon-level threat, a sort of walking whale that went on the warpath through City B. Amai had gotten intel that Saitama was there, looking at discount meat, and when he arrived he waited for the moment when Saitama saw the monster but didn’t yet attack it.
As Saitama clenched his fist in preparation Amai called on all his training and finesse and sliced the monster through its head, the impact cutting through all 80 feet of blubber and splitting it perfectly down the middle.
Amai hadn’t broken a sweat. Saitama had watched it all. But when he turned around, Saitama was already headed back into the supermarket.
Fighting wouldn’t work.
Drawing on all his sources, Amai instead pieced together a flawless plan from every angle, his judgement based on over a hundred points of data taken from observations of the man’s behavior.
With his plan in place, Amai went to Saitama’s apartment in City A, removed his disguise of a hat and sunglasses, and knocked on the door.
When Saitama answered his eyes showed no recognition, but he looked up at him and offered a simple, “Hi.”
“Saitama-san. I’m Amai Mask, I witnessed your fight at the Monster Association.” Amai held up his precious weapon, a white box tied with ribbon. “I brought you wagyu beef as a thank you for your efforts.”
Saitama stared at the box for about half a minute then looked up at him and asked, “Wanna come in?”
The meal was delicious and victory was sweet.
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