Archive of Our Own ^beta

Metal Bat flicked the green blood from his bat, already annoyed at the prospect of cleaning it later. At least his clothes had come out unscarred. Some fans stood aside, a few with phones recording, others clapping.

"Thank you, Metal Bat!"

"You rock, Metal Bat!"

"I love you, Metal Bat!"

"Yeah, yeah…" He waved lazily, giving a half smile, and swaggered away as fast as possible without appearing to be running away.

It wasn't that he disliked people, or the attention, or the recognition. It just got tiring, that's all. Even his classmates and teachers held that distant adoring expression reserved for untouchable icons that plainly made him itch all over, because he was Metal Bat, S class hero, but he was also just him, Badd. 

People seemed to forget most heroes weren't there for their entertainment, they were just doing their jobs of protecting civilians and busting monsters, since, you know, that's what heroes are for.

Except Sweet Mask, that guy was just a clown for the avid audience. A deadly, powerful clown, but only that, a performer. Badd wasn't like that, so people should stop expecting him to act like a circus attraction and get out of his face.

"A smile for the lenses, Metal Bat!" A guy with a huge ass camera was running next to him, probably some kind of blogger or paparazzi. Brave people like him running after S class heroes were few, thank God, but weren't they annoying.

"Serious, man. Just trying to get home, leave me alone." He politely asked, feeling his hackles standing up. 

But this guy wasn't letting up, finger pushed into the camera's button taking so many photos it could make a video. Every few shots the fucker would glance from the visor and lock eyes with Badd, a smirk playing on his lips. Oh, one of those daredevils trying to play with fire to get a rise out of celebrities. Fucking bastards.

Metal Bat was a known hot head, this dipshit probably thought he could get something out of the hero. Ha-ha, joke's on him, because before being a short tempered little shit, Badd was a bull headed little shit, and if playing it cool would foil the guy's plans, then he would be cooler than a freezing cucumber.

This lasted for a few blocks, because the guy was damn persistent. Badd kept his eyes forward and his chin up, humming one of those commercial songs that just stick to your head, hand deep in his pocket, not a care in the world.

As they walked past a small playground, there was the sound of something smashing, like plastic and glass breaking, the kind of noise that makes you cringe because something expensive just broke, and even if it isn't yours, it still hurts. That just made Badd smirk.

"O-oi!" The paparazzi screeched, holding the shattered camera, a baseball lying by his feet. The lenses had been smashed in – unsalvageable. As he fiddled with it, the body came apart in two pieces, one in each hand. He raised furious eyes in search of the perpetrator. There were a few children and parents on the monkey bars, but there was no one suspicious.

"Well, that sucks," Badd shrugged, drawing the man's vidrated gaze, "bye."

"Aren't you a hero?! You should get the person responsible!" He shouted, spit flying out.

"I didn't see anything," he shrugged again, picking at his nails, "can't do nothing, sorry," he said, not remorseful at all, and kept walking. He heard the man curse a few more times and leave. 

Badd stopped to look back, someone had come to recover the ball.

"Nice pitch," Badd turned, bat resting on his shoulder.

"Nice acting," was thrown back at him. The teen with dark, spiked hair wearing a baseball glove faced the hero head on, slightly raising a leg and turning.

Badd took an offensive position, eyes glued to the ball. It was pitched at high velocity, flying just a few millimeters above the powerful swing. The smoking ball embed itself on the wall behind.

"Tch," Badd spat on the ground, standing straight again. "Fucking curve ball, screw you, Akira."

His best friend laughed, approaching. "Such a sore loser, B-chan," he clapped the other on the shoulder as he passed to collect the ball.

Yeah, there were some shitty people like that camera asshole, but at least there some good guys.

"I made udon, Zenko is waiting for you. Come on, shithead, I'm starving," Akira led the way.

"How did you know that fucker was here?"

"Didn't," he threw a smirk over his shoulder. "Was gonna stick this up your ugly face as welcome," he laughed, mischievous. "Gotta keep you on your toes!"

"You shit!" Well, not so good, after all.

o.O.o

Badd and Akira met when they were seven. 

Badd was a loud, irritating child, commanding attention to himself. It was expected that a boisterous child would surely pick on a quieter target, and secretly that was what his parents feared. 

They didn't have to worry for long, since Akira had been there, acting just as badly, pushing back and snapping fearlessly, talking even louder.

It was only natural they clashed. They fought, screamed and overall made the teachers gain white streaks. They didn't bother other students, since their fixation seemed to begin and end between them.

One day, they stopped fighting, and ganged up. The teachers were relieved, but it was short lived. It got so much worse, they were put in different classrooms. Lunch time was pure madness the week they stayed separated.

As time passed, it got better. After one year since meeting, they were best friends that didn't give the teachers a hard time anymore. At least not constantly.

"Mom and dad say I will have a little sister or brother soon," Badd shared one day in the swings as they flew back and forth.

"That's cool," Akira commented the next time they crossed. "You will be the best big brother, I am sure."

"Better than yours, at least," he quipped, teasingly.

Akira planted his feet in the sand, getting dragged until he stopped completely. Nonchalantly, he kicked Badd's seat as he came down, making him spin out of control and be thrown away.

"Oi! Baka!" Was his best insult at eight years old. 

"Onii-chan does his best," Akira firmly said, "he may be ordinary, and not good at sports and studies, and he sucks at video games, but he tries his best." He hotly said. "He makes me instant noodles and watches anime with me. He is always there when our parents are working."

"Jeez, I get it, I get it. He strung the stars and put the moon up there," Badd grumbled, picking himself up. "I just meant I would actually cook, you know. Aniki just gives us store bought, it gets old pretty fast."

"Saitama-nii is just lazy," Akira shrugged, the boys getting back to swinging. "But he cares, and he is my hero!" They both laughed at that, the idea sounding silly, but oddly fitting.

"I will be a hero for my baby sibling, too," Badd promised.

o.O.o

S class meetings were a pain. There was no other word for it.

The topics were inane, the chairs uncomfortable, the light from the monitors annoying, and oh- the people were fucking unbearable. Badd had come this close to bashing someone's head. Mostly his own.

Tatsumaki was the worst by far, vocal, hot headed, arrogant, with the scrillest voice. When she got going it was impossible to stop. It was a wonder she always was in the Headquarters, considering she complained the most.

She was in the middle of a tirade. Today there weren't many heroes, just the flat chested menace, Child Emperor, Atomic Samurai, Superalloy Darkshine and Zombieman.

He looked quickly over the other heroes, all silent. Everyone knew not to antagonize her too badly. His eyes locked briefly with Zombieman's, with whom he exchanged shrugs and faint, pained smiles.

Metal Bat knew from experience it wasn't worth the headache listening to her, so he just slouched lower on the chair, threw his head back and thought what he should make for dinner the following week. Akira had mentioned something about chicken on sale, maybe they could cook up some broth.

Oh, and he had promised his sister he would take her shopping for a new dress, since her recital was coming up. Badd almost smiled, pride busting in his chest. Damn, it probably wasn't normal feeling this much affection and love for someone, but shit, Zenko was his world. 

And the cat, Tama. He should take her to a vet for a check up, right? It's been a while since one last saw her, just to take some shots. Were they running low on cat food? He couldn't remember if there still was one can left or if the damned cat had bribed someone with her big, innocent eye-

"Metal Bat." He was suddenly snapped from his thoughts. To his merit, he managed not to startle, lowering his head in a controlled fashion, gazing unimpressed at the board member delivering the information. So, Tatsumaki had finally shut up.

Apparently content with his undivided attention, the man continued with the meeting.

By the end of it, Badd couldn't remember the first words after 'good afternoon', nor care. The heroes flew out of room as soon as the meeting was declared finished, some with more grace than others. Tatsumaki and Atomic Samurai were the first, followed by Superalloy. Child Emperor and Zombieman left together, in quiet conversation.

Badd swaggered behind them, stretching the kinks out of his back. He tried not to listen into their conversation, but, oh well, there they were.

"- great job,"  was the end he got from Zombieman.

"Thank you," Child Emperor responded, a pleased light shining in his eyes as he smiled. It wasn't easy forgetting he was just a kid, with that ever present lollipop and short stature, but he rarely acted childishly. Out of all heroes, he was the most mature. But that smile right there, it was pure in a way only kids could be.

Badd passed them on the corridor, nodding his goodbye with the aloofest face he could put off. Child Emperor waved, Zombieman gave a two fingered salute.

Next time there would be a meeting, goddamn aliens would drop from the sky.

o.O.o

"Pass the tea." Badd grumbled around a bite of sandwich.

Akira complied.

They munched their lunches in silence on the school roof.

The hero chugged the beverage down, before staring straight ahead, motionless.

"This is bullshit," he concluded in a matter of fact tone, turning back to his food.

"I know, but there is nothing they can do," Akira shrugged, peeling a banana. "Want a bite?"

Wordless, Badd bit the profered fruit with more rage than it deserved. "Bullshit," he repeated around the food mass, spit and pieces flying out.

Akira sighted, fruit forgotten. "The police said the trail went cold years ago, and that the chance this new one is related is unlikely," he closed his eyes and raised his head. "As I said, the guy is not getting caught any time soon."

The hero chewed in frustration, brow furred and fists tight, as if gripping his bat in a deadly swing.

Before he could complain more, his friend flicked him on the forehead. "Contain your Teenager Rage for now, yes? It's giving me indigestion." 

"It's Fighting Spirit, dipshit," he murmured, knowing a lost battle. "This unfairness gets to me," he confessed, standing up.

"Well, super special time restricted sales occur only every three weeks and I can only stock up for two and I receive monthly, and it gets to me too, so there is that," Akira replied good naturally, a small strained smile showing. "Doesn't mean I beat shit up to a pulp to feel better."

Badd patted his bat foundly. "Sure as hell hope nothing too big shows up, don't wanna miss my shopping date."

"Dude, you gotta get the discount frenezy!" Akira grabbed his swinging arm, pitching his voice comically higher, "Badd-onii-san!"

"Now you've done it, asshole," Badd tried grabbing him, but his friend side stepped his movements, "I'm ripping you a new one!" Despite the crude wording, he was smiling.

o.O.o

"Tadaima." 

"Okaeri."

Saitama shuffled into the apartment.

"The landlady came asking for rent again," Akira commented, stirring the miso soup. "I said you would come around by the end of the week."

"Thanks, I'm glad you were the one here. Had it been me, she would have kicked us out." Saitama set the low table, two plates of omurice and cups of bottled tea. Akira brought bowls of soup.

"Itadakimasu," they voiced together, digging in.

After a few bites, Akira put his chopsticks down.

"Saitama-onii-chan," he started in a grave tone. "This is something that has been on my mind for sometime, and I would like you to hear me out with all the seriousness the matter entails," he declared with crisp efficiency.

Slightly alarmed, Saitama set his spoon down, attentive.

"You have been training for almost three years to become a hero for fun," he continued, "I respect that decision," he assured his brother. "There is no salary for that, so our finances are difficult to manage. There is no schedule, so the time you are home is uncertain. There is no insurance, so, if you die, there is no compensatory money." They faced each other gravelly. "I can accept all that in the name of your happiness and fulfillment," Akira promised. Saitama nodded, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Akira sighed, eyebrows furrowed in sternness.

"However," he paused dramatically, pointing a finger at his brother's head, "the matter of your hair loss is something that cannot be-"

"Dude, shut up!" 

o.O.o

"So he is officially a hero now?" Badd muttered around the end of a pencil, squinting at the notes in his lap. "What is this here? I can't understand your writing!"

Keeping up with classes was a nightmare, especially when he missed weeks at a time, getting completely lost in the subjects. Having Akira dutifully jot down everything was a definitive lifesafer, his best friend a grudgingly good teacher. 

"Yeah, he had been training, remember? But just now he registered. So you might hear about him sooner or later," he bent closer to Badd, looking at the notebook. "You figure it out, baka. I am not the one missing class to beat up monsters," Akira complained, but still took a pen and rewrote the ideogram again, more clearly. "There, you illiterate punk."

"Let's just hope he doesn't end in too much trouble. Saitama-aniki is as much as an idiot as you."

Truth be told, Badd was way more worried than he let on. Hero work was cruel both on the mind and on the body. If a monster didn't get you, the system in the Hero Association would. Some days, he wasn't sure which was worse. Besides, from his last memory of Saitama-aniki, he wasn't remarkable in any way, nor particularly strong. At least he had conviction and, these days, sometimes that was all you could hope for.

"No worse than you." Akira sprawled on the ground, comfortable in Badd's and Zenko's house. "Besides, he is much stronger." He murmured, eyes closed.

o.O.o

Badd strolled by the school's gate, carefully side stepping small kids. It wasn't always that he managed to come get his baby sister, but he treasured every time he could. He wasn't under any impression that once she was older she would still desire as much attention from him, so he intended to make the best of it now.

He quickly entered the main building, going up the stairs, into the music room. No one tried stopping him, though quite a few kids pointed his way, excited. He merely waved back, not wanting to get caught up. Of all his fans, kids were the best to deal with, with innocent wonder and easy heroship, unobtrusive.

Badd had timed his arrival with accuracy only someone raising a kid with school events could possess: not too early, not too late, just on time to get the end off the rehearsal when Zenko would play one last song, alone.

He sat on the last chair in the small auditorium, a whole band of kids in the front, each one with a different instrument. Playing the piano, his sister had one of the most important spots, guiding the main tune. Besides, she also had a solo presentation, which she was very excited about.

The music flowed easily from her small hands, delicate fingers dancing on the tiles. Badd wasn't educated in music enough to know whose piece that was, all he knew was that it sounded fucking perfect coming from his sister's talent.

She sat serenely, legs dangling, too short to touch the ground, head barely reaching the piano top. Such sight made his chest clench with love, bringing tears to his eyes.

His sister was the last of his blood family. He had promised to protect and love her since the day she was born, but when their parents died, he doubled over on his vow. She had been a wreck, crying, trembling. It looked like she would never smile again. That week, she had barely left his lap, at most two steps away.

It had been gradual, getting back on their feet. Akira and Saitama had helped as much as they could, but it had been hard. Badd, surprisingly, hadn't had to fight authorities too much about guardianship of himself and his sister. Apparently, the system was overflowing with orphans created by monsters' attacks, that all the ones that could manage by themselves were left to their own devices.

So, Badd had gotten his parents' insurance, sold the house and started work as a hero.

When renting the new, smaller place, he had had Saitama-aniki help fill in the paper work, being the only adult the knew and all.

Clapping brought him back to the present, realising his own hands were creating the sound. The song had ended.

Everyone looked at him, easily recognizing Metal Bat S class hero. Zenko smiled brightly, flushing pleased, knowing her brother listened and enjoyed her music.

She collected her things, breaking away from her classmates. Badd easily took her bag, holding her hand, nodded to the teacher, and left.

Just after reaching the intersection near the school, did they slow down. 

"It was great, Zenko!" He praised, having gotten a hold of his emotions. "I can't wait to see the recital."

"You can't be late, Badd-onii-san," she severely berated, in her usual demanding self. "If you-" She was rudely interrupted by the sound of a flash going off. Badd took a deep breath, counted to three and, lo and fucking behold, there it was the Camera Asshole. 

The man, if possible, had returned with an even bigger camera, a shit eating grin larger than before. Badd felt his heart beat pick up, rage now burning in his chest.  One thing was messing with him, another completely different was messing with Zenko.

He pulled her behind himself, knowing the guy had gotten a few pictures of her, but unwilling to just let him take anymore. 

"Dude, not cool," he hissed through grinded teeth. "Are you asking for a lawsuit?" The man didn't even answer, just threw a glance over the visor and pressed the button, smirking.

Badd closed his eyes and took another deep breath. He hadn't become a pro hero to deal with this kind of shit. One hand clenched tightly over his bat, forming a bloodless fist; the other he kept carefully relaxed, as not to hurt his sister.

"Listen-" He started over the blinding flashes.

His sister suddenly escaped his lax grip, walked up to the Camera Asshole and kicked his shin with all her might. He had the camera pointed upward, zoomed on Badd's face, so there was no recording or warning of her approach.

He dropped the camera with a shout, cradling his leg, but the guy down right screamed as soon as the expensive lenses hit the ground.

"Let's go, Badd-onii-san," his little badass baby sis' demanded, as if nothing had happened. "I don't want to miss my drama, today is an important chapter."

Impressed beyond himself, he scooped her up, setting her on his right arm, and marched home, whistling to the song of his weeping enemy.

o.O.o

"Who are you?" Genos demanded as he opened the door, his usual blunt and aggressive nature sharpening his voice in accusation.

He had never seen this teenager before. While apparently unthreatening, sensei hadn't had visitors in the seventeen days Genos had been living with him, only three since the disaster with the Sea King. The hate mail had escalated up to the point the cyborg was simply burning all letters, much to Saitama's displeasure.

"Hum…" The dark haired teen silently beheld the hero, expression blank.

Too much hesitation, a clear sign of unease. His systems analysed the stranger's vitals, showing a steady heartbeat, but more perspiration than normal. He wasn't supposed to be there and knew it.

"Are you sensei's stalker? I will not tolerate it." The cyborg took a step forward, effectively making the teen retreat from Saitama's apartment door. "Go away, do not disturb us anymore," his weapons flared up, the mechanical sound of engines firing up enough to send any common person running. He wouldn't actually fire against a civilian, but he wasn't above scare tactics.

"Right," was the flat answer, probably too shocked to respond anything more intelligent. He looked over Genos' shoulder and into the apartment. The faint sound of a shower running being heard from the doorway.

"Leave, now. This is your last warning." Genos bent closer to the teen, cutting his view of the room. He was exhibiting clear suspicious behaviour, looking into sensei privacy.

"Right." Was repeated again, and he turned as if to go.

"NII-CHAN!" He suddenly shouted, startling the stoic cyborg. "Saitama-nii-chan! When did you become a hentai into mechaphilia!"

"How dare you! You insult sensei-" The guns flared in rage.

"Genos, wait!"

There was a crash from the bathroom, and suddenly Saitama appeared, a towel around his hips and dripping wet.

"Do you know this person, sensei?" He asked with a disapproving frown thrown the teen's way.

"Yes, that's my little brother, Akira." He scratched his head, eyes squinted in displeasure. "What a pain, call before coming! And don't antagonize your elders, Genos would have seriously blasted you for that big mouth of yours!" And he went back to finish his bath.

"Yeah, yeah, as if I would give you the advantage of hiding any embarrassing evidence," he called after his brother.

Looking again, Genos berated himself for missing the obvious. The facial structures were almost the same, and the eye shape and color identical, a clear sign that they were related. The hair had thrown him off, but never would he be insensitive enough to bring it up with sensei. Being a teenager, Akira probably still lived with his parents, explaining why he only visited Saitama occasionally enough to be a surprise.

"Sensei's brother…" Genos murmured, weapons completely away, an avid expression taking his face. "You must be able to tell me of his upbringing." He earnestly realised, ushering Akira inside, quickly bringing tea and sitting next to him, notebook open. It would be the perfect opportunity, since his research hadn't been fruitful with Saitama's current routine, maybe the secret was in the past. Sensei had been so clueless about his own strength, that an outsider might be better at describing anything extraordinary. 

"It might shed some light into sensei's strength!" Genos concluded, eagerly.

"Oh, onii-chan didn't tell you his training regime?" Akira sipped his cup, the white one with drawings in it. "I tried following it, but I guess I am simply not cut for it."

"He told me, but there must be something more," Genos explained.

"Well…" Akira tapped his chin, thoughtful. "He once ate a really creepy bug that came into our room."

"... That's not really what I am looking for." He still jotted it down, hope wanning.

“Seriously…” Saitama mumbled, exiting the bathroom, still annoyed. Akira politely lowered his cup, standing up with grace. He tackled Saitama in a full bodied hug, legs around his waist and arms involving his neck. Sensei huffed, barely blinked, patting his back.

Genos contemplated the display with surprise, sensei hadn’t shown to be a touchy person. Well, family was the exception, apparently. They stayed together a few seconds more, until Saitama chuckled under his breath.

“Okay, let go,” he instructed, bracing his hands on Akira’s shoulder, but not pushing yet. “The monthly quota of affection has been fulfilled.” He declared in a practice tone.

Akira left not long after that.

“Your brother has instituted a quantity of required touch, sensei?” Genos couldn’t help but ask, notebook already open, pen ready to register the knowledge.

“Since we started living apart,” Saitama distractedly responded, leafing through his manga, “Something about social group of risk, hormones and blood pressure.”

“I see,” Genos jotted it down. There were indeed researches showing that physical touch of affective nature could be beneficial to one’s health. His pen froze mid word, realization entering his eyes. “Sensei!” He shouted, startling the man.

“Jezz, what?” Saitama turned.

“I want you to hug me!”

“...huh?”

o.O.o

Metal Bat exited the meeting with a tired huff, creaks coming from his neck as he stretched.

"Long day, huh?" Zombieman murmured, lighting a cigarette, stopping next to him on the corridor. Most heroes and executives had exited already, eager to leave. It was a miracle they got anything done, considering how much they averted each other.

"Yeah," he agreed, thinking of the long trek back home. Subway and busses were in his near future, making a groan rise from his throat.

"You live down in city D, right? How about a lift? I will be passing through, anyway," Zombieman proposed, stance relaxed and a small smile adorning his grey lips.

Badd was taken back. Sure, the guy was usually one of the only heroes he talked to, since he was the most normal - even considering he was fucking immortal- and one of the nicest. Superalloy Darkshine was another, even though that one had an obsession with his muscles. Child Emperor was, doubtless, cute and smart, but Badd didn't know how to deal with anything more mature and shorter than himself, but he was okay.

The others were all fuckers or creeps or simply aloof.

"If you don't want, that's okay, too," Zombieman added after the stunned silence lasted too long. "Don't feel forced to accept it, wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." His smile was thin, a somewhat deprecating chuckle escaped his lips.

Now, depending on the person that said something like that to him, Badd would either think nothing of it, because the person was just being polite, or he would flip, because the person was messing with him.

Zombieman wasn't like either of those people. 

"N-no," Metal Bat, to his embarrassment, stuttered, so flustered he got. "Yeah, that would be cool, thanks man." He ended accepting. The other hero considered him carefully, behind the smoking fag, taking a long drag and nodding, appeased.

Badd wanted to say he wasn't creeped out by the other. He didn't care he was said to be immortal. He didn't believe Zombieman a monster, as some had insinuated. He knew he was a good guy, had seen him encouraging Child Emperor with only a couple of words, had seen him pacifying the S class hotheads, he even caught him saving a kitten caught in the middle of a fight, what kind of S class hero cared about it, huh?

But Badd was still a seventeen, punkish, aggravating piece of shit, so he couldn't just say all that, it was impossible. All he could do was show Zombieman with actions all that he believed.

"We should hang out sometime," Badd, completely tactless and out of his game, suggested, trying to keep up his tough aloof facade.

Zombieman froze in the middle of mounting his bike, turning surprised red eyes at the teen, who wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Sounds nice to me," he agreed, a content light shining in his complexion.

"Right," Badd said, feigning total control of the situation, hesitantly approaching and contemplating the prospect of riding a bike for the first time.

"Ever rode one before?" The older gently quipped, probably knowing the answer.

"Yeah, sure," Badd shrugged, lying through his teeth. "It's just been awhile," he amended, saving face.

"Right," was thrown back at him in the same tone, as he turned away from the teen. "Then just hook the bat to your belt and push it behind you, and step on the silver pedal near the exhaust. And, obviously, you can either hold under the seat or to me, whatever you prefer," he nonchalantly instructed, "I will just leave slowly, wouldn't want to scare the HA with this one's true horsepower," he chuckled, patting the handlebar.

Badd sat behind him without too much hassle, finding his grip under the seat. True to his word, Zombieman drove slowly at first, allowing the younger to get used to curves, and accelerations and breaks.

By the time they were flying through city A and C, Badd had thrown away any cool, detached mask and was having the time of his life. He grinned madly as they rolled down streets at reckless speeds and squived maneuvers at neck breaking velocity. His pompadour had been destroyed long ago and any reservation over basically hugging a man he barely knew were discarded in the blasting wind.

"Having fun?" Was shouted over the engine's noise, mirth clear in the voice.

"Hell yeah!" Badd laughed, gripping the trench coat, feeling faint out lines of uncounted weapons. "Does it go any faster?"

A deep, wild, unleashed laugh was his answer as the accelerator was reeved, the bike lurking forward.

When Akira and Zenko later teased him for his dismayed hair, all he could do was smile.

o.O.o

They were eleven when they joined the baseball team.

Akira couldn't land one swing.

"Keep your eyes on the ball!" Both Badd and their coach shouted at him.

"I see it! Damn it!" But he still couldn't hit it.

He was a pro at pitching, though.

So, the undefeatable duo was born. Akira threw the best swingers out of the game, and Badd scored homerun after homerun.

Their families attended every game. At least Badd's parents and sister did. Saitama was the only that came to see Akira.

At nineteen, the teenager was quite directless, doing odd jobs here and there. But he still tried being a supportive brother.

"Throw that ball into his ugly face!" Saitama shouted from the stands, making a smile grow on Akira's face and drawing glances from nearby families

"That is not how it works," Badd's parents tried explaining, quite a few times, but his encouraging words never changed much.

It would take them some time to realise Saitama knew exactly the game's rules, and was only playing dumb for his brother's amusement. 

After their centenary victory, at thirteen, Saitama and Badd's parents pitched together to give the boys commemorative presents: an aluminum bat and a new glove. It was said both objects belonged to both boys, even if Badd used the bat more than Akira ever would. 

That would be the reason why, at fifteen, Badd would ask Akira for permission to plump the monster that had killed his parents. He wanted to make sure Akira wouldn't be too squeamish about guts on their bat. "Knock yourself out," would be his answer.

Well, the aluminium bat wouldn't survive to tell the tale, becoming formless after the beating Badd gave the monster. Saitama was quite peeved about that. 

The glove was still around.

o.O.o

"Hey, Genos," Akira smiled as he sat down.

"Akira-kun," the cyborg nodded, "do you like martial arts?"

"Nah, not really. It is cool and all, but I came to cheer onii-chan. I was quite surprised when he told me he had enrolled." The teen opened the program of fights. "Strange, his name isn't here."

"About that…"

o.O.o

"You look like shit." Akira laid a bag of apples next to Badd's bed.

"Thanks, so do you," the hero replied, eyes closed. "Give me one."

Akira sat on the bed, careful not to jostle the injured hero too much. It was quite late, he probably had trespassed nurses and security to get there, speaking quietly so as not to disturb other heroes' slumber.

The teen took an apple and a pocket knife, peeling it expertly. The scratches of the metal against the fruit were the only sounds for a while.

"Thanks for watching over Zenko," Badd ended muttering, because he was truly grateful, even though the feeling of uselessness had been eating at him since waking in the ambulance.

Pathetic, really. Going to sleep right under a Dragon level threat with his sister standing next to him.

"No prob, that's what bros are for," Akira set the knife down, admiring his perfectly peeled apple: one long string of red and a white sphere. Badd would admit any day that Akira's apples tasted the best because of his unparalleled skill in peeling them.

Akira took the string and gently pressed against Badd's lips, the hero taking it between his teeth and starting to chew. Akira barely blinked, munching on the pulp. They had been friends long enough to simply accept some quirks.

"So…" Akira started, eloquently, "you got beat up by a giant centipede and a creepy guy?"

"Creepy guy my ass!" Badd suddenly exploded, rapidly quieting down, "a goddamn, borderline psycho with nothing better to do, that's what he is. He got sooo lucky Zenko showed up, I would have busted his head open."

Badd felt his heartbeat pick up just at the mention of the guy. It just made his blood run hotter and his hands itch for his bat. That Garou fucker had been strong, a goddamned delight to fight against. The human monster had pushed back harder and harder, kicking Badd well over his usual limits. He had felt alive, exhilarated, wild. It had been good.

Except he hadn't been able to finish the fight.

"You would have killed a human?" Akira quietly asked, anchoring him in the present.

That gave the other pause. Badd felt like he should be able to easily say no, but that didn't rang quite true.

"He seemed pretty keen on not being one, so I guess he deserved it," he concluded, a way out, a half answer. 

Badd could easily think of one or ten reasons why he would unflinchingly kill another human. Garou could have entered the list very easily. Better not tell Akira any of this, considering he had extreme aversion to violence.

They finished their apple in silence.

"Have you heard of onii-chan?" Akira inquired as he stood up. "He's been hanging out with Genos."

"Demon Cyborg? Well, I just saw a weird bald guy with him, in a yellow suit." He remembered the alien episode and the following onsen disaster.

He stared Akira in confusion, until his eyes suddenly bugged out. "...That's Saitama-aniki?! When did he go bald? He is so young."

"Don't let him hear you, he is pretty sensitive about it."

"Yeah, I get it," Badd ran a hand up his hair, imagining his pompadour, or rather, the possible lack of it. "Did you bring my hair gel?"

Akira chuckled, reaching into the apple's bag. "Is water wet?"

...

"You have to be more careful!" Zenko berated him, standing by his hospital bed.

"I will be," he promised, serious, because his oaths to his sister were the most valuable ones. It usually was enough to aplacate her, but today, right now, she was being more persistent than usual.

"I'm serious!" She down right winnied, stomping a little foot, water gathering in her eyes. Oh no.

"Ze-zenko," he stuttered, because if his sister started crying, he would too.

"You can't die!" She cried, tears spilling over. "I'll be all alone," she brought little fists to her face, brushing away the drops, uselessly, since more just kept coming.

He sat up on the bed, extending his hands to her, grabbing her under the armpits and flopping her down next to him easily. He hugged Zenko to his side, willing her to calm down, his own eyes burning. She threw her tiny arms around his torso. 

It was expected really, he should have prepared for the water works better. There had been an episode, earlier in his career, but he had been inexperienced, dumber than now, full off overconfidence. He had brushed her off, with words he now understood were a lie. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t die, it would make everything worse if he broke that promise.

“Zenko, listen to me,” he murmured, brushing her hair back as soon as the sobs stopped. “I can’t promise that I won’t die,” he paused, shushing her gently before she could get worked up again. “But I promised I will try harder than anyone to come back to you, okay? As long as I breathe, as long as can raise my bat, I will always come back to you,” he solemnly vowed. 

Zenko quietened down soon enough, it was rare for her to cry like this, the mature and badass kid that she was. She kept her arms around her brother for long minutes more, and he wiped her tears until there were no more.

It was moments like this that made him reconsider his job choice. Maybe it would be better just leaving the HA and the shit it entailed. No more mind numbing reunions, no more infuriating colleagues, no more goddamned fans. The thing was, at the end of the day, quitting wouldn’t ensure him of always coming back alive home. He could still get ambushed on the way to school, on a market run.

Sure, one thing was casually meeting a monster, another was effectively running after them, but still. He could help people working as a hero, could prevent others from losing their loved ones, protect them. Not everyone could be strong, so those able to stand up for the weaker should do so. 

Badd chose this path, he took the risks with eyes clear. His sister’s tears were an unfortunate price to pay, but one he was willing to take.

“Baka,” he heard her whisper, hitting his chest lightly. “Badd-nii-san is a baka,” she repeated, no more tears left, just her usual severe scowl. “You are too good a hero, onii-san.” She berated, sounding grudgingly proud.

“I would hope so,” he laughed, chest a bit lighter.

o.O.o

"Genos! I am looking for my brother have you seen-" Akira stopped short, surprised at the number of people clustering the apartment.

Genos sat cross legged on newspaper, repairing, while Bang and Bomb laid in the back. Fubuki and King sat by the table.

"He is not here, Akira-kun," Genos replied, just as surprised at seeing the teen barge in. He didn't know he had a key.

"Damn it!" He muttered, oddly agitated, leaving immediately without a glance back.

"Wait here! There are a lot of monsters around." Genos attempted to stand, causing oil to squirt from an open cable.

"I will get him," Fubuki jumped into action. 

"I didn't know Saitama-kun had family," Bang commented, "and one so young. Akira-kun, was it?"

Fubuki exited the apartment, eager to meet Saitama's family. Maybe she could get his brother to convince him to join her group.

"- city E, police station 324! Two in the afternoon! Got it?! T- w- o!" He hung up his cellphone, running a hand through his hair.

"Excuse me-"

Akira glanced her way, checked his watch and ran the opposite direction.

"O-oi!" She screamed, but he was already far.

Later, Saitama arrived.

"Akira-kun came looking for you, sensei." Genos dutifully informed.

"Huh? All the way here?" He mused, calmly taking his boots off.

"I think he may have called you," Fubuki added, to Genos evident surprise.

That caught his attention. Saitama looked into the closet, digging deep, throwing old clothes and objects behind himself, until he produced an old flip phone, turning it on.

“Sensei!” Genos exclaimed, sound betrayed, “I did not know you had a phone, please give me your number and use it more, please!” He both requested and demanded, not amount of ‘pleases’ covering his desperation.

Saitama gave him no mind, listening to his voicemail.

He became deadly serious. The atmosphere changing completely.

"I have to go."

"W-wait!" Fubuki blocked his way. "The Monster Association is still at large, and Garou-"

"Move."

Chastised, she stepped aside. No one tried stopping him.

After the door clicked closed, her legs folded, falling not unlikely a house of cards, hands shaking uncontrollably.

o.O.o

"This is bullshit." 

"That's all you say," Akira mumbled.

"That's what this always is!" Badd exploded, pacing. "It's always the same shit! I just wanna bust someone's head in! Makes me sooo mad, I just-" He stopped in frustration, letting out a wordless growl of displeasement.

He was way over pissed off. Indignation burned his throat and the feeling of uselessness weighted his gut. The Monster Association and Garou had been defeated, by Saitama no less, while Badd laid in a hospital bed.

And now this shit again with Akira. Saitama had had time enough to go down to E city to his brother, and still make it in time to Z city to help the other S class heroes. Meanwhile, Badd couldn't even raise his bat to protect the hospital.

"Calm your panties," Akira appeased from the futon, "lay down your idiot, I want to sleep."

Grumbling under his breath, the hero did as told for once, crawling under the covers next to Akira.

"Bullshit," he repeated.

"Shhhh," Akira laid on his side, patting his friend's chest. "Go to sleep, dipshit."

"You too, asshole."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Akira squirmed until he laid his head on Badd's shoulder. It was dark, the only light coming from the gap of the unclosed door, they could see only faint outlines. "Saitama-nii-chan is homeless right now, so he and Genos will be staying in my house for a few days," he informed. 

"Ehh," Badd shrugged, smirking, "we should finally make him think we are a thing," he proposed mischievously,  "call each other names, let our hands roam, make him uncomfortable until he says something ," he drawled confidently. Silence was his answer in the darkness. "...No?" He quietly asked.

Lips landed on his forehead.

"That's why I tolerate all your bullshits," he laughed. " Yes ."

o.O.o

"Sensei," Genos called, in his direct and abrupt manner, as they brought the few things they could salvage over to Akira's home. The cyborg had entered the small apartment, not unlikely their last home, with hesitance. "I thought Akira-kun lived with your parents." He laid down the box of kitchenware. Surprisingly, some pans had come unscarred. "Do they work away from his school?"

Saitama carefully set the bag of clothes down, comfortably entering the house as if his own. His instance relaxed, he opened the window in the back, allowing fresh air to circulate, his back to Genos.

"Our parents died seven years ago," he told, tone as calm as if he were listing their shopping products. "He and I used to live together, but got kicked out. He found a job and this place, close to his school, but I didn't want to trouble him, so I rented down in city Z." He shrugged, starting to put their things away. "Sure, he invited me to live with him, the attached bastard that he is, but I know he would just worry more over me. Distance has done us some good."

Genos froze at that, eyes fixed on Saitama. It had never occurred to him that sensei, too, might have a tragic past, with his laid back attitude and calm complexion. Indeed, he was a truly strong individual.

"Tadaima!" Akira opened the door, weighted with market bags.

"Okaeri," Saitama unhesitatingly responded. They briefly locked gazes, warmth clear as day in their expressions, as if they had had such exchanges a thousand times, and still found comfort in the act. "What are we having?" He approached to help with the groceries.

"Though we could have some udon," they shuffled together into the kitchen, already in a dance they long performed together.

Genos silently beheld the interaction, fondness growing in his own chest as bittersweet memories of his family came to mind.

o.O.o

Badd didn't usually stay long past sunset in the streets. He had a little sister to take care, housework to do and homework to suffer through. So he wasn't accustomed to walking down dark, empty streets, much less to the time's natural soundtrack.

The city was a completely different place in the dead of the night, distant clashes and bangs resembling battles echoing in the buildings, long threatening shadows stretching across the walls, the wind blowing screeching songs between fences. He tried not to be too creeped out, being an S class hero and all, but goosebumps still raised his skin.

He was on his way home, leaving an HA meeting that ran later than expected. He wasn't too worried about Zenko, since Akira had easily been invited to a sleepover, but the part of his heart that had been born with his sister never quieted down, leaving him in a base level of constant worry. He managed, most days.

That night, thought. Something felt strangely off. Like walking past a house you crossed everyday and suddenly realizing it was neon green. It had always been there, how could you not have seen such fucking eyesore? Or maybe like returning to your desk and noticing your eraser was on your notebook's left side, but you usually leave it on the right, so you aren't sure if you just changed it or if someone is messing with you. Or maybe like waking up and you can't close your teeth the right way , so it's like not knowing the goddamn teeth in your own mouth, even if you rationally know that the number and position of teeth is the same as always, you just can't bite comfortably.

The itch continued until he entered the domestic district, because that is when he stopped. No way would he get any closer to his neighborhood with such an awful feeling in his gut. That is also when he realised what the impression was all about.

"Oy!" He called to the night at large, "either you step out, or I fucking make you," Metal Bat threatened, resting his bat on his shoulder.

There was silence for a few heartbeats. The blood pumping through Badd's veins steadily increasing its pressure as the tension mounted higher and higher.

"Heh, not bad for a meathead," a mocking laugh drawled from the darkness, cutting the stillness of the air with its sharp beginning and ending.

Metal Bat immediately turned to the sound, knees bent and bat ready, he recognized pretty well that voice.

"You here for another hunt? Hero hunter!" He called, a vicious energy entering his body. "Our last fight ended way too soon, I gotta finish your beating."

Garou slided into the light, golden eyes shining in the dark, white sharp teeth glowing. "Nah, I'm not into that anymore," he flapped a long nailed hand, dismissive. "But I agree that our last encounter was too short," he smirked, taking a fighting instance. "A rematch sounds enticing!" And he lunged forward.

Metal Bat was ready, just as eager to finish what they had started all those weeks ago. He raised his bat to block the attack, already planning his first swing. However, there was no contact, no body shaking blow or unexpected pain. Garou had disappeared.

"Maybe later, though." The almost monster quipped from a rooftop. "I have better things to do now," and after a playful wink, he jumped away. "Bye-bye!" Was the childish farewell.

"Asshole!" Badd screamed after him, but relaxed him form, heartbeat slowing down. It wasn't hard, since he hadn't gotten too pumped up. He spat on the ground, strolling away.

The hero still walked around before going home, not putting past Garou to trick him into lowering his guard, or following him home. But the itch was truly gone, and he had to get going.

…

The smug bastard appeared again.

Metal Bat had been minding his own business, making a midnight run for a deathly sick Zenko. Well, not actually life threatening, but she definitely wasn't happy about the headache and the coughing.

Still, he had to be fast, because his baby sister was alone, three blocks away, feeling like shit and he had promised to be back in fifteen minutes, tops.

"Well, if it isn't-"

"I don't have time for you!" He warned, wanting to run home but dreading turning his back on the enemy. "You wanna fight? Then do it now and quickly, I have to be home in-" He checked his watch, "eight minutes to keep my promise." He dropped the pharmacy bag and raised his ever present weapon.

Garou contemplated him in silence, bushy eyebrows raised.

After a whole minute went by, Badd realised the fucker was making him late on purpose. Red berserk anger took his limbs, kicking him in high gear, his Fighting Spirit roaring in his chest. He made the first move.

The impact shock the entire street, making parked cars jump, alarms go off. Creaks extended across the walls, the crater formed deep enough to collapse into the sewage system. Obviously, there was no sign of Garou, just resounding laughter as a parting gift.

Badd was scolded for arriving eighty four seconds late.

…

The taller teen made a third appearance, this time in daylight.

Badd had rare alone moments, between hero work, brotherly duties and school obligations. Besides best friend time, which were awesome, too, and usually helped him relax. But alone alone time were few and far between, when he could do something for him, and only him.

He had taken to peaceful treks in a nearby park in ungodly early hours of the morning, away from fans and duties and responsibilities.The woods chirped gently with life, singing of birds and calls of small animals. There was the rustling of leaves and shimmering sunlight and all that poetic shit, fitting of the mood and place.

Badd rested against a fallen log, not really physically tired as much as mentally drained, slowly charging his spirit with the clear air and peaceful  setting.

"Oho, this is nice," the not quite human chirped from the tree top, perched like an oversized chicken on a lower branch. A muscular, dangerous, irritating chicken.

Metal Bat jumped, not even dignifying with words, and hit the tree with exploding speed and strength. Never before had he gone from cool to rock melting hot so quickly. The dizziness that came from relaxed muscles all clenching in tandem left him disoriented for a second, but that was all his nemesis needed.

A single foot landed on his back, not kicking, not attacking, not even hurting, just a stepping stone for the thin freak to break away from the collapsing plant with a graceful somersault.

"That tree was protected by the law, you know," Garou quipped, a shit eating grin stretching his lips. "What kind of example are you setting, hero-sama?" He bowed mockingly.

"You get back here and finish the fight, right now!" He demanded, high strung. "I'm so done with your bullshit, seriously, come here or stop fucking around!" He shouted, breathless. His heartbeat echoing in his ears, muffling all sounds. His chest was compressing, his head heavy, but his arms were curiously light, so it was okay, he still could fight, could beat that freak to a pulp.

"My, are you so desperate for-"

Badd didn't give him a chance to finish, running after him almost blindly and striking again, with a scream of rage.

Garou jumped away, eyes wide open, as if surprised Badd had attacked him with such ferocity.

Metal Bat invested again, like a bull lulled in by the red cloth dancing in front of him. He felt the burning need to get Garou, has been feeling stretched thin since the enemy's first appearance. The itch was never truly gone, he couldn't relax anymore, his heart always pumping a bit too hard, a tad too quickly.

"Come on, asshole!" He repeated, always repeating.

Seeming taken back, Garou ran away, wordlessly.

…

"- and then he appeared a- fucking- gain!" Badd shouted, pacing back and forth on the school roof.

"Hum," Akira murmured encouraging.

"Akira," Badd kneeled in front of him, eyes desperate, hair flagging down. "He is driving me crazy !"

He really was. He couldn't even sleep peacefully anymore, listening to every creak in the night, waiting for mocking chuckles and shining teeth in the dark. He was getting paranoid, and that was an almost sure ticket down to madness wonderland.  

He considered calling the HA, but knowing those guys, they would make things even worse. Besides, who would they call? Another S class hero? Metal Bat wouldn't hear the end of it.

"I can see that." When his friend didn't move, Akira sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sit down, B- chan." He patted the spot next to him.

The hero collapsed in a drained pile, his muscles almost appearing to pull him down rather than supporting him. 

"I'm gonna talk, and you are gonna listen to me real good, got it?" He didn't wait for an answer. "I will make this in less than twenty words: he likes you."

They stared at each other. Badd blinked slowly. "Are you an idiot?"

"No, you and this Garou-guy are," Akira nodded sagely. "When we met, what did we do?" He changed strategies.

"We put beetles in the teacher's desk and switched all the board markers for permanent ones."

"Before that."

Badd was deep in thought for a few instants. His eyes widened in disbelief, then incredulity, then disbelief again, setting finally for a classical 'oh shit' expression.

"We fought," Badd mumbled, lips numb. "All the time. If we didn't bump into each other, one of us would go searching for trouble."

"Exactly," Akira concluded in a tone reserved for praising small children. "I liked how you always blew the biggest bubblegum bubbles-"

"And I found awesome that you could touch your nose with your tongue." Badd remembered.

Akira smirked, poking his tongue out and bending it up until it touched his nose. 

"Awesome," Badd murmured, still in shock. "Garou, the hero hunter monster, likes me in some manner," he numbly concluded. He suddenly looked alarmed, eyes even more wide and body completely numb. "I like him, too," he whispered in revelation. Damn, he did. The guy was infuriating, but his technique so incredible, his form so flawless. He might have done some crazy shit, but he had heard about the guy's twisted, noble logic, about the snotty kid he had saved and, in the end, he wasn't so bad.

"I think you deserve each other, showing affection like seven years old kicking down sandcastles on the playground," they inclined back, watching clouds drift by. "We were some little shits," he reminiscenced.

"Yeah," Badd agreed, distracted, "the worst."

"What should I do, then?" He inquired as they went down for class.

"Well, what happened that made us gang up?" Akira bumped into him, smiling, slipping a hand into his back pocket and groping the muscle there.

"Oi!" Badd squatted at him half heartedly, feeling something in his pocket. He took it, open mouthed.

"Oh."

….

"Here," Badd threw at the silent teen, again perched, this time on a low wall.

Garou easily intercepted the small object, gazing at it confused. After a few heartbeats, he raised an eyebrow. "Is this poisoned?"

Nonchalantly, Badd reclined against the low wall, body completely relaxed, bat resting by his side. He took another gum from his pocket, opening and starting to chew the tutti fruit flavored candy. "I don't know, why don't you figure it out?" He proposed, uncaring, going as far as shrugging one shouldered, as if raising both was too much trouble.

Thrown off by Metal Bat's uncharastically cool response, Garou took his advice. They chewed in companion silence.

They gazed down at the town in the setting sun. The empty playground rested above a small hill, deserted but for pigeons and them. It was peaceful, it was calming. The artificial taste brought back sweet memories and he felt the most relaxed he had been in days. Garou, too, seemed less high strung. Only now, seeing the difference, Badd could realised the other had been just as stressed as him.

Akira had been right. Goddamn him.

Badd steadily blew a bubble gum, getting bigger and bigger. Since elementary school, he had stepped up his gum game, so the bubble became as big as his head easily. He glanced sideways.

Garou stood paralyzed, eyes fixed on Badd, disbelieving, the kind of look that is given to something incredibly disgusting and still grudgingly marvelous. The hero smirked around the candy, snapping Garou right out of shocked appreciation.

The other teen, not to be left behind, attempted to blow a bubble gum. With a fierce expression, eyes wide and avid, determined as if facing down an opponent, Garou pressed the gum between his teeth, and blew with all his might.

The pink elastic piece flew right out of his mouth, landing on a stoned stillness a few steps away. The teens stared at it in a daze, both surprised and unbelieving. Badd started chuckling, lowly, trying to suppress it, but it soon turned in true laugher, big guffaws that left him breathless. Garou contemplated him with unamused eyes.

Until his bubble blew, covering his entire face in gum, that stopped him completely. It was Garou's turn to laugh, lips stretched wide in a true grin and eyes smiled shut, holding his stomach and doubling over. 

Badd, too, couldn't prevent a small smile, after removing the plastic from his face and making sure nothing had gotten in his hair. He offered Garou another piece. The teen took it, chewing without hesitation this time.

It was a good time, Badd concluded.

It was good just sitting down and breathing, it was good laughing about stupid shit with someone who had given him a hard time, it was good even when they realised a damned pigeon had gotten its beak stuck with the spitted gum and they, the suckers, had ran after it for a tiring rescue.

"See you around, man," Badd said, as he turned to go.

"What? No invitation for fights, no payback?" Garou interrupted, a somewhat forced smirk adorning his face. It was strange seeing it there, where just now a true smile had been.

"I am always up for a beat down, you know where to find me," he dismissed, half raising his bat over his shoulder substituting a lazy wave.

He was a few meters away when the answer came. "Yeah, I will be seeing you."

When Badd gazed over his shoulder, Garou was gone.

…

"Did it work?"

"..."

Akira slurped his free udon up, taking advantage of a friend with an S class salary and that would be lost without him and was aware of the fact.

"... It did," he muttered lowly.

"What worked?" Zenko pipped up, sitting between them nursing a kid sized portion, legs balancing in the air contently.

Akira patted her head. "Badd-oniisan is making a new friend, but had forgotten how to befriend people, so I gave him a little help."

Badd startled at that, because it was oddly true. Since before becoming a high ranked hero, before losing his parents, before baseball, he had never really connected with people. Akira was his first and last friend, with acquaintances thrown in between fleeting meetings. Sure, he could act friendly enough, he wasn't a troglodyte living under a rock, but true friends, those were rare. Zombieman was definitely on the path of becoming another, since that amazing ride they shared. Nothing connected people better than dangerous, exhilarating activities.

The prospect of his third ever friend being an ex hero hunter seemed less and less ridiculous the longer he thought about it.

….

"Hey," Badd called, storing his trash away. "Where are you staying, man? It's been raining like crazy these days," he pulled his jacket closer, giving the weeping sky a stink eye.

Raining season was upon them, with high temperatures in the morning and torrential pouring in the afternoon. The air was suffocating with humidity and heat, making Badd sweat like a pig, his clothes sticking uncomfortably to him.

If it was bad for the hero, he couldn't imagine how Garou was coping, with already tight clothes. Besides, he really had no idea where the human monsters was sleeping, if he was dry and warm at night, if he was eating well. Badd had taken to always carrying some snack or another since noticing how skinny he was. Human decency and all.

"Why do you care?" Garou grumbled around an onigiri, his fifth. That guy had a black hole for a stomach.

"I don't," was the knee jerk response. "Just wanna know where to look for your corpse when the time comes." He recovered.

"How lovely," Garou sarcastically drawled. They were sheltered under the awning of a closed store, gazing into the night darkness made worse by the water. 

"It's just an old building by the industrial border," Garou unexpectedly answered after a few beats, looking away. "Gotta share with some hobos, but nothing too bad, they know who's the boss," he smirked confidently, thought it lacked conviction. As if he didn't know how else to cover the fact he was letting other people live right next to him. There was no doubt if Garou wanted to inhabit alone, he sure as hell would be the only living soul in the goddamn neighborhood.

"Right," Badd deadpanned, because he didn't have a better response. "At least it's dry, right?" He shrugged, conveying aloofness, ripping open a bag of chips. 

"Mostly, yeah." Garou answered, just as disinterested. "I mean, sometimes I let the ojii-sans get the higher spots, because they are so pathetically weak if they wet a bit they die of pneumonia, but usually it's just some puddles." He laughed, as if mocking the feeble creatures he governed over, as if that right there wasn't a kind hearted action.

"I see," Badd chumped his food, offering it to Garou without looking at him. He didn't protest when the whole bag was ripped from his hands, devoured in seconds.

"You should come over sometime," Badd said, before losing his nerve. "My friend makes a mean hot pot," he added, food was always the best excuse when dealing with Garou. 

"Wouldn't your hero friends disapprove of that, Metal Bat?" He growled, spitting his title.

"Fuck them," Badd replied, as easily as breathing. "I know my job, they should mind theirs."

There was a stunned silence for a few beats. Badd didn't dare facing him

"Yeah, sure. I'm always up for free food." Was the easy agreement.

"The day after tomorrow, around six." Badd demanded. "Meet me by the playground near my neighborhood, don't even try pretending you don't know where, stalker."

"Ha! As if you were that interesting," Garou cracked his shoulder, stepping forward, preparing to dash through the rain, unprotected.

"Wait." The hero called, searching into the market bag he had brought the snacks. "Here, to keep you from washing away." 

Garou took the plastic raincoat, a deep blue, into his hands, clearly surprised. It was thick, long, with drawstrings to close the hood tighter around the head.

Badd didn't wait for a response, taking off with his umbrella with hurried steps, head low, face burning.

….

Akira complained about being forced onto the stove, but shut up very quickly after Badd gave him the credit card. "Go wild." He said. Akira hadn't even answered, mumbling about discounts and coupons.

Zenko stared at Garou for a real long time when he entered the genkan. He endured the scrutiny with applaudable stoicism, but Badd saw him dry swallow a couple of times.

Apparently pleased with what she saw, Zenko raised an imperious finger. "No fighting in the house, understand? Onii-san has to keep his promise, and Akira-nii doesn't like it either."

"I really don't!" Said dipshit shouted from the kitchen.

Badd feared it would all go much worse. Garou was, at best, a socially inept teen, and at worst, a murderous psychopath. He could get jitterish or down right upset in a closed room, as far as the hero had observed. The only reason he had invited him over being the fact Garou had had a million chances of killing him, at least landing a jab, and hadn't. That had to count for something.

Garou made an awkward fit, at first. Sitting next to Zenko by the low table in the living room, he looked suspiciously at the windows, the TV, even the freaking light bulbs, like something would get the jump on him. His eyes drifted from Zenko to Akira like one of them would try to bite him any second. He still hadn't looked Badd's way.

Akira surely picked the tension, he wasn't an idiot. The problem was that his friend sometimes had a mouth too big, talking anyone's ear off. That preoccupied Badd, briefly, considering Garou's unpredictable temper. He assured himself that his best friend hadn't come out of life unscarred for no reason.

"Man, your hair is amazing!" Akira was talking for a while now, "love the wild vibe. And you are very handsome, I could do laundry on those abs."

Garou didn't answer, he didn't seem to know how to take such shameless compliments. Truth be told, he had spoken less than a handful of words since arriving. He politely picked at his rice, respectfully taking things out of the hot pot in the center, keeping his head down. Such civilized and meek behaviour immediately told Badd he was way out of his element. 

"Put more meat on those skinny arms," Badd dismissively laid a piece of pork in Garou's bowl. That made the human monster finally look up, eyes wide. He and Badd stared at each other for long seconds, Akira's voice in the background entertaining Zenko with a tale or another.

Badd couldn't fathom what it meant to be an outlaw, to have everyone craving a piece of you. The humans wanted his hide, the monsters longed for his blood, the heroes fancied his head. Garou probably had had too many backs turned on him to end the way he did. No one who saved little kids could have started too badly, something had to have happened.

So, Badd was a sour mouthed little shit, but he thought himself a nice enough guy. He admired Garou, enjoyed his company and couldn't help but feel protective of the underdog. So, yeah, he would share snacks with him; he'd leave blankets near the industrial district, by the abandoned factory; he'd talk to him just like any other person; he'd invite him for dinner with his family. Garou was a human monster, and if kindness and social interactions preserved that humanity, Badd didn't care about rules and status.

After biting into the meat, Garou transformed back into his abrasive self. He smirked Akira's way.

"So you are the housewife?" He asked as if just meeting for the first time.

"And you the stray mutt?" Akira replied without missing a beat.

They grinned dumbly at each other, one asshole recognizing a dipshit. Great, Badd could feel a tick forming in his head.

Dinner was fun.

….

"Thanks for inviting me," Garou, uncharastically quiet, mumbled as Badd saw him out of the neighborhood. He had a packed bento, forced upon him by Zenko. "You have to eat healthy! Badd-nii-san just brings you junk food, I saw it!" She had accused, closing the door behind them with finality.

"No prob, that's what bros do," he answered without thinking. There was a long silence.

"...Right, bros," Garou cautiously agreed. He didn't sound averse to the idea, just hesitant. Badd wondered if he ever had a friend before. The yellow eyes fixated themselves on Badd, sending chills up his spine. Garou approached a step, then stopped, pressing his lips in a thin line, eyebrows furrowed, almost angry. The hero didn’t dare move.

Garou shook his head, like a dog shaking water from his ears. He stepped back, giving the usual shit eating grin. "See you around, Badd," he waved, and jumped away.

Badd stood there for a few minutes more, willing his heartbeat to slow down. He wasn't sure what the other had intended to do or say, but he had a feeling it would have been ground breaking.

When he realised Garou had called him by name, not title, warmth spread from his chest to his fingertips.

o.O.o

"Tadai-" Akira stopped as he entered his apartment.

"What are you-" Badd bumped into him, looming over his shoulder, wondering why he had frozen. He considered the people occupying his friend's small apartment. 

King had hooked his gaming system to the old TV; Bang, Fubuki and Dr. Kuseno  sat by the table nursing cups of tea; Saitama and Genos fumbled around the kitchen, preparing what seemed to be the mother of hotpots.

Badd stared at them all, and they looked right back. No one knew what to make of the others. Badd certainly didn't, since it was awkward enough bumping into other heroes on the street, coming face to face in such personal space was almost unthinkable. Saitama-aniki seemed to be collecting S class heroes on purpose.

"Okaeri, Akira and Badd," Saitama easily said, bringing the boiling pot to the table. "Sorry about the mess, these guys invited themselves over," he shrugged.

"No problem, onii-chan," Akira played along taking his shoes off, "I guess you know each other, but this is my friend, Badd." He pointed behind himself to the hero, throwing a look over his shoulder. "Babe, these are my brother's friends: King-nii-san, Bang-san, Fubuki-san, Kuseno-hakase and Genos."

Badd gave them all a nod, a scowl mawring his face as he smiled internally at the affective nickname. It was a running joke that they could get Saitama to finally question the kind of relationship they had, but the man remained unflappable.

Badd contemplated the people present with solemn eyes. The other S class heroes, if surprised in seeing him there, were controlled enough not to show.

"Metal Bat!" Fubuki open mouthed exclaimed, as if the mere visage of an S class hero was enough to trigger something on her. Badd's scowl deepened at that, he remembered an unfortunate encounter with her group as he flew through the ranks, easily brushing off B class.

"Sit down," Saitama was ushering them inside, but Badd resisted, standing by the genkan. He really had no desire to be among so many people tonight.

"I think I will just go home," he declared. "I will see you tomorrow, love," he smiled at Akira, allowing his eyebrows to relax.

His friend approached him with mischievous steps, laying his hands on his shoulders as he brushed a kiss on his cheek. "See you tomorrow, then."

Fubuki was flabbergasted, staring at them with eyes wide open, like the image of an S class hero interacting with anything less than perfect aloofness was impossible. Well, fuck her and those HA asshholes with their ranking, turning everything into a mess.

Bang had a humorous light in his eyes, but said nothing. He was one of the good guys, respectable, if sometimes a bit eccentric. Badd hoped he wouldn't bring it up later.

King and Genos were uncaring, as expected. Badd didn't think too much of their silence, they probably just preferred keeping to themselves, and Badd could understand that, since he did the same.

He knew nothing of the doctor, nor cared. But he did smile slightly, amused by the youngsters antics.

Saitama, their true target, didn't even blink, much to his disappointment.

o.O.o

After that first dinner, Garou became a common nuisance at Badd's house and life, accompanying him on freak errand runs and early walks.

Akira basically lived with them. His own house was in the same neighborhood, but with Saitama and Genos there Garou couldn't just show up.

"I mean, he can-" Akira would insist.

"No." Both Garou and Badd would shut the idea down.

Now, instead of just Zenko and Akira by the TV, Garou would also be sprawled on the ground, one of Badd's magazines in his hands, idly leafing and drawing moustaches on people.

Instead of three plates, Badd would always put down a fourth in case Garou showed up for dinner.

When Akira found items on sale, he would buy for four people.

If Zenko made a drawing, there would be one more figure stick next to Badd on the picture.

It was the day Badd was cleaning the bathroom and saw four toothbrushes aligned on the sink and another bar of soap by the hossle, that it clicked on him that Garou had basically moved over.

As he entered his bedroom to dust, he saw his and Akira's futons folded on the open closet. There was his desk, rarely used for any studying, serving more as another shelf for memoralia. And there was his bookcase, with a few mangas, school books, sports magazines. Badd knew his best friend had hidden some porn and yaoi hentai on the highest shelf, away from innocent eyes.

Garou, the menace, had been sleeping on the living room with the cat, with only a stolen pillow from Badd and a borrowed blanket from Zenko, the one so pink is almost glowed in the dark. It was long enough to either cover his feet or his shoulders.

There were only two bedrooms on their traditional house, with tatami floors and sliding doors. His room wasn't the biggest, but Badd thought the could fit one more futon next to him at night.

The following night, after Zenko had been put to sleep, while Garou was listening to Akira disclose about his work's gossip by their tiny yard, Badd slipped into his room and extended two futons. He got the new one, still neatly packed, and laid it by his feet, thinking. 

"Don't overthink it, dumbass," he murmured angrily, wishing for his bat to strike himself. He settled for slapping his face a few times, like he used to do before a game. He set the third futon down, laying a new pillow by the end of it and one of his blankets.

It was a tight fit, there was barely any floor left. Badd had left Garou's futon the closest to the open window, because god knows what he would do if he felt too closed up; Akira would lie in the middle, because Badd wanted to be closest to the door, in case he needed to get to his sister. It was perfect.

He joined the others, entainterned in another one of Akira's disgusting tales. Working at a cleaning company specialized in removing monsters guts 'from anything, anywhere, anytime', he had by far the worst experiences.

"- and it was dribbling down my whole front when we were done with it!" He exaggeratedly motionned to his face and torso, making Garou double over with laughter. "I never looked at gelly the same way." He solemnly finished.

"Nasty!" 

"Dude, disgusting," Badd turned his nose, reigning in a smile of his own. "Come on, dipshits, let's sleep," he called, as usual. He and Akira had school, and Garou had whatever he did when he wasn't messing with them.

They made the usual ritual of taking turns to shuffle into the bathroom. Akira was the first to enter the room, Badd assumed he was playing it cool, because his friend said nothing of the sleeping arrangements.

Garou left the bathroom last, and went into the living room, searching for his blanket and pillow. 

"Come on, asshole," Badd muttered, passing him.

"Huh?" Was the intelligent response, but he followed, intrigued. Badd didn't look at him as he laid down on his futon, trusting the meaning clear enough.

"What?" Garou flatly asked, cocking his head sideways. His eyes ranrunned over the three futons, over the two teens, over the bedroom, which he had already invaded more than once or a hundred times, blankly. It didn't seem to be adding up in that empty head of his.

"Lay down, dumbass," Akira mumbled, already half asleep, "I gotta get up early."

That snapped Garou out of his redundant musings, because his eyes got comically wider, his mouth hanging open. It was the clearest expression of bewilderment that Badd had seen on his face before. He wondered again if Garou had ever had a sleepover with friends, if the had laid at night with a warm body next to him knowing he was accepted, he was safe.

Badd closed his eyes, listening attentively to every creak and breath on room. Garou was motionless as a statue for long heartbeats.

When he moved, it was with soft, careful steps, not kicking the covers, or stomping unaware feet, slipping into the covers silently. It was polite and meek, just like that first dinner.

"Lights out, G." Badd called, because the other had forgotten to hit the lights on his way in.

"Fuck you, Badd." Was the abrasive response. He heard something being thrown at the wall, darkness washing over them.

"... Did you just throw a book at the light switch not to get up?"

"Shut it you both," Akira mumbled again, pulling the blanket over his head.

From the darkness, Badd saw glowing teeth framing a smile.

Garou fit right in.

o.O.o

They walked around the early ass hours in the morning in the nearby park, silent as they peacefully tracked well used paths, reaching the stomp of a tree, where last stood a great elder plant. Badd and Garou stopped, looking at the wood. It felt like that encounter had occurred a lifetime ago.

"Let's spar," Garou demanded without preamble.

"Okay," Badd agreed, because he was in the mood.

They did.

It was just like he remembered, an exhilarating, heart clenching experience. At least, for this, there was no hesitation. Garou was even faster than last time, jabs even more precise. He wouldn't shut up, knowing exactly what to say to piss Badd off just enough to shout back, making his swings just a little faster, his grip just a little firmer.

Badd gave his best, swinging madly, defending and hitting back. His heart beating maddly, pumping adrenaline through his body, making everything sharper and faster, transforming the pains in fuel to his energy, his limbs moving ahead of his consciousness on instinct.

It was a sweet contrast against the lazy routine they had shared for so many days. It was fun.

The fact none of them were effectively trying to kill the other also helped set the tone for the sparing. 

It had started vicious enough, with attacks that truly hurt and would leave bruises behind, but it quickly turned into something much more playful. It became less about incapacitating the opponent, and more about proving who was faster and smarter.

Garou was grinning, dancing around Badd, trying to get behind him. The hero was having none of it, guarding himself far too well. He, too, was smiling through his curses.

Until his feet caught on a root, making him gracelessly topple over, landing face down on the foliage, putting an abrupt end to their session.

Badd slowly raised his head from the ground, feeling leaves stuck in his fraying fringe. Garou was laughing his ass off a few paces away. With a growl of frustration, Badd stood, frantically trying to salvage his hairdo.

"Wait, wait," Garou weezed through laughter, approaching, "you're just making a bigger mess," and promptly burrowed his hands in Badd's hair, gently picking at leaves.

The hero went stock still, unaccustomed to being this up close with the other, but as the motions started without any unpleasant surprise, he relaxed, going as far as closing his eyes, trustingly. The night of the first dinner came to mind.

Garou got every stick out of his head, and attempted to reproduce the usual pompadour. With all the jumping and running, the gel had detached, not firm enough to keep the strands together, so every time he pushed some hair back, it flopped down a few seconds later. Badd knew it would happen, because he understood his own goddamned hair, but if Garou was volunteering, he sure as hell wouldn't stop him.

By the time the taller realised his hairstyling was for naught, he was just petting the hair. The hands finally stopped, but remained digged comfortably between the strands, pressing the scalp pleasantly.

"I've never had any friends," Garou quietly confessed, proving Badd's suspicions right. "I don't wanna mess this up, too." He murmured, even lower.

Badd opened his eyes, looking directly into Garou's face, twisted in a concentrated scowl. The hands moved to frame his cheeks, and he knew exactly what was gonna happen.

They kissed in the not as early hours in the morning next to where last stood a great elder tree.

Badd had already allowed him into his home and life, so why not his heart too?

….

There wasn't really any change to their routine after that, except, you know, the surprise kisses, which were very nice.

Badd had never had a boyfriend, or girlfriend. It had always been him, Zenko and Akira, and that fucker, for all their goofing around acting like a couple, was basically his brother.

"I'm asexual, you know," Akira had quipped at him, years ago while laying on Badd's lap. "So if you are ever thinking of getting a piece of this, think twice." Badd had been silent, before just chuckling, taking in stride. "As if, dipshit. That piece ain't worth getting."

And so, Garou starred as Badd's first boyfriend. At least, that's what he thought they were, with all the living together, sleeping together, bickering and kissing.

Garou had taken to sleeping in the middle, unashamedly throwing slim limbs over Badd during the night, nuzzling like some kind of needy puppy. Not that he was complaining, since Garou made a great big spoon.

There still were moments of hesitation on Garou's end, when he would run hands slowly over Badd's shoulder and back, as if waiting for a word of protest, searching for a flinch of disgust. Badd would take his long hands and press them more firmly, while drawing him in a wild kiss.

Truth be told, Badd also wasn't sure what to do with a boyfriend, so he was faking till he made it. So far, so good.

One day he came back from a fight, bat's handle sticky with dried blood and his shoes' bottoms kinda melted. He expected seeing Akira and Zenko sitting in the living room doing homework, with Garou slouching on the back, but he had a surprise.

The table in the living room sat sideways, pushed against the wall with the TV, carefully pilled together. The room was padded with all the futons and blankets they had in the house, with pillows lining the walls.

Zenko stood ram straight in front of Garou, expression grave. The teen looked down at her with equal solemnity.

"How about this?" He tried grabbing her shoulder. To Badd, it was almost comically slow, knowing how fast Garou could move, but to a civilian, a little nine years old civilian, it probably was sudden enough. 

The hero didn't have time to panic, though, because Zenko swiftly sidestepped the arm, taking Garou's wrist and bringing him down with his own motion. It was rehearsed, it was too easy, the guy had clearly had a thousand ways to prevent that from happening. 

He was teaching Zenko self defense.

Badd, for some reason, felt like he had received a well aimed punch to the stomach, because all the air escaped his lungs and he got dizzy. He was so fucking stupid. It had never went through his head teaching her something like that.

Goddamned baka.

"Good, good!" Garou encouraged with a grin from the ground. "And this?" He grabbed her forearm, pulling her forward. Zenko twisted out of his grip, jumping back. "That's right!" He praised with mirth, they must have been at it for a while now, since their clothes were all messed from rolling around. 

"How about now!" And Garou attacked with lightning fast speed now, circling her and grabbing her in a bear hug, pressing her arms to her sides as he raised her from the ground. She unflinchingly bit his arm. "Yeah! That's right, bite a piece off!" Garou cheered with the usual maniac energy. "And don't forget to struggle, make it hard for anyone to hold you too long," he continued instructing, arms firmly around her, teeth sunk in his flesh and all. "Try headbut-" He didn't even had to finished, her small head bobbing back, almost getting his nose, "yes!" He crowned again, pumped up.

Badd sweatdropped, because they really were into it. He cogitated stepping up, but he saw no harm being done. Garou was very precise and meticulous, if he wanted something not to hurt, then it sure as hell wouldn't.

Garou threw a glance at Badd, still by the entrance. The hero smiled confidently, leaning against the wall, getting comfortable to watch the show. The other smirked, clearly having fun.

Badd put up a brave face, but his heart was in his throat. Zenko continued to squirm, little legs kicking at nothing, face flushed from exertion and breathing hard, helpless in another's grip. Such visage sent unpleasant chills up Badd's spine, made him want to run there and hug her to his chest and never let go. He could feel his own breathing pick up, his fist clenching around his bat. Only her small smile and his trust in his boyfriend kept him rooted on the spot.

Finally, she stopped struggling, suddenly hanging limp.

"What? You have to keep fighting!" Garou encouraged, shaking her a little, "where is your Fighting Spirit?!" He baited, mockingly. "How could-" And she struck.

Having lowered his guard, Garou didn't even see her head raming back, hitting his nose dead on this time. Surprised, he let go of her real quickly. She fell rolling on the padded floor, turning with a pleased smile. "And now, Garou-nii?" She questioned, looking for approval, until she saw him covering his face, blood dribbling from his hands. She went pale.

"Very good!" Garou shouted, a frenzied light entering his eyes, "and now-"

"Yes. Very good," Badd finally interfered, stepping into the room. "You did very well, Zenko. Onii-san is very proud of you," he assured, kneeling next to her frozen form. "Garou is also very proud, right?" He inquired strongly, staring at him, willing him to quickly catch up .

Garou looked from Badd to Zenko, noticing her quiet complexion, eyes fixed on the blood on his hands. Badd knew it was nothing to him, he had barely felt it, it had stopped bleeding as soon as she had hit the ground. But she didn't know that.

"Hell yeah!" Garou agreed on the same encouraging tone, "you really got me. If you can trick me, than anyone else should be a piece of cake!"

She didn't answer, eyes still glued to his nose. Badd reached for Garou's hand, guiding him to kneel next to her. "He's fine, Zenko," Badd calmly assured, in what his friends called 'the big brother voice', "it didn't even hurt, right, Garou?"

"R-right," he stuttered, the idea of reassuring someone of his well being foreign to him. "Didn't even hurt," Garou echoed, some of his usual confidence entering his words. "You are good, but not that good!" He taunted, flicking her nose playfully. "Not even Badd could make it hurt!"

"Oi!" Badd half heartedly protested, mostly for show. 

"No fighting!" Zenko snapped out of her own fright, coming back to her usual bossy self. "Go wash up, Badd-nii-san, and take Garou-nii with you," she demanded. "You stink, and you will get blood on your clothes," she directed to either of them.

"Tall talk for someone who was rolling on the ground minutes ago, fighting," Badd taunted, standing up.

"It's not fighting, it's sparing!" Garou and Zenko replied together, before crossing gazes and giggling.

Hot damn, Garou was brainwashing his sister.

"Thanks," Badd quietly said as they shuffled down the hall. Garou glanced at their hands still connected, dry swallowing. 

He merely tightened his grip. It was more than enough for Badd.

o.O.o

Badd sat on the bench by the empty playground near his house. The sun was setting, casting a golden light over the city. It had just stopped raining, puddles still around, the air still fresh from the tempest, for it would heat up umberably in a few hours.

He laid his head back, eyes closed. Just being. It was quiet, most people home already, no one wandering around because of the danger of eminent rain any minute.

Just because he had had such a thought, there was the sound of heavy footsteps hitting puddles, approaching. As it stopped, there was the fateful click of a photograph being taken.

"You have to be fucking kidding me," he muttered, still sprawled on the bench, eyes closed, keeping the illusion of peace just a few instants more.

The clicks continued for some instants. When Badd didn't move for long seconds, they stopped.

"You guys know that a photo of you alive can cost up to  ¥5.000?" He guy opened his mouth to spew shit. "But one of you dead easily hits tens of thousands?" He giggled, as if excited at the prospect. Oh yeah, he wanted to piss Badd off, but without his sister the asshole had no leverage. Cool as freezing cucumber, Metal Bat, cool.

"You are not the only one with family that got famous. Stinger has a little brother, too, and Snek still has a mom he takes care." The fucker kept talking. "But, truth be told, pictures of your sister are the ones selling the best these days, you know. She is very cute, and delicate, people like seeing that. Besides, she always has a different dress on, very stylish, by the way, certainly doesn't get it from you."

Oh shit, he was heating up. He couldn't play this shit cool. His heart was already pumping enough blood through his veins to get him pumped up to fight a Dragon level threat , and the fucker wouldn't shut up.

"The last one I got for ¥600.000, just one body shot. Sure, the one with the both of you, holding hands was my masterpiece, you know, I got over  ¥2.000.000 on that one," he laughed again, showing off. "But, between you and me, the ones that really sell are when she is wearing that tiny yellow skirt and she-" There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh multiple times. A body hit the ground, silence and peace were restored. 

Garou dropped next to Badd on the bench, throwing an arm over his shoulders. "Hey, Badd," he said, as if hadn't just beat a guy to a pulp.

"Hey, Garou," he replied on the same tone. He opened his eyes, turning to his boyfriend. Their gazes met.

They grinned at the same time, falling into a kiss.

Damn, he really loved the idiot.

Curiously, this time, the camera remained intact.

o.O.o

"This is very good," Zombieman complimented.

"Thanks, had my friend help with these," Badd mumbled around some rice.

As promised, they agreed to meet. Despite the uncertainty, on both sides, it was going smoother than expected.

They met in a park in city E, right in the middle of their houses. Badd promised to bring food, and Zombieman provided refreshments. When Badd arrived, the other already had a cooler set up, and he couldn't begin to fathom how it got there on motorcycle.

As much as a punk he was - or pretended to be –, he still refused the alcohol, choosing the soda that was brought, his favorite. "Lucky guess," Zombieman would claim, but Badd wasn't buying it.

Badd and Akira had made two bentos de night before, with great variety of dishes. The hero had been beat, encountering countless small fry monsters, being grinded through a discussion with his sister and fighting against an overbearing group of fans. He had almost cancelled the outing, but the memory of dull red eyes had made him toughen up and cook some food. Truth be told, Akira could have prepared everything alone, but Badd wouldn't put past him to make something embarrassing, like a themed bento, with sausages cut into octopus, onigiri with eyes and apples shaped like bunnies.

"So, are the rumors true?" Zombieman asked with a curious lilt, so quickly it sounded quite like an impulsive question. 

"What rumors?" Badd inquired, intrigued, because if Zombieman, the unofficial detective of the HA was asking, then it had to be good.

The man seemed regretful in asking, with a twist of lips that showed his consternation. He hesitated, throwing glances the teen's way, but avoiding eye contact, gauging his body language.

"I mean- " Badd continued, "I'm asking because I seriously don't know what you are talking about, man," he chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood.

"About you having a boyfriend," Zombieman delivered fast, efficiently. He didn't seem flustered in asking, but nothing fazed that guy. "You don't have to answer that, of course," he backpedaled, sensitive enough, eyes fixed on Badd, studying his reaction.

Metal Bat froze, firstly, because that was the last thing he imagined would be asked of him by goddamned Zombieman . 

Secondly, his boyfriend was a fucking outlaw. Those first few weeks after the Monster Association disaster, Garou had been hunted down like a dog. Things were more peaceful now, but the bounty on his head was as high as ever.

Badd's first reaction was tensing all over, which didn't escape the other man, who inclined back slightly.

He tried calming himself and thinking logically. If they suspected his involvement with Garou, Badd wouldn't hear about it in a pleasant lunch in the park. So, Badd had to figure out what Zombieman was talking about.

Looking down at the forgotten bento, it clicked on his mind.

"Oh," he drawled, relaxing all over. "You probably mean Akira," he realised with relieve filling his chest, as he played it cool. "Nah, he's just my friend. My longest, best, dumbest friend, but that's it," he smirked confidently.

Zombieman relaxed as well. Badd wasn't sure if he believed him, but the other didn't seem willing to push.

"You should meet him sometime," Badd reckoned, because he should. Never would he admit, but having his best friend approve of his other friends would be kinda cool. "He is a pain in the ass, but I have never met anyone who could turn discount food and spoiled seasonings into a five stars, three course meal."

"I am glad you have someone like that," Zombieman shared, sounding like the didn't mean the cooking prowess. Badd shoveled food down his throat not to say anything embarrassing, since the mushy feeling he was getting was very distracting.

o.O.o

Garou was a piece of shit and knew it.

He didn't think it because of his childhood decisions, or because of going crazy on the dojo, or because of taking down heroes right and left. Those actions sucked, but didn't make him a piece of shit. At most, a piece of recyclable trash.

The deal was, he realised he was a bully. And he hated bullies. His plan had been genial, if only he could have executed it. All he did was turn himself into the thing he hated most.

He realised it the day he got punched so hard, he would be feeling it in the next reincarnations. But, anyway, he was allowed to survive. He was eighteen going on nineteen, and he had no idea what to do with his life.

Apparently, that was quite common for his generation. For him, it was deeply unsettling, since he had known what he wanted to do from the beginning. However, move on he did.

It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was to crawl back to the dojo and beg for the forgiveness he didn’t deserve. It definitely sounded way to easy once Bang accepted his apology.

“With one condition,” the old master had severely warned, in a pregnant pause. Garou holt his breath, on his knees before the hunched hero.

“-  you need to polish the dojo floors until they reflect better than a silver mirror,” he declared, an amused glint shining in his eyes, “it doesn’t matter how long it takes, how many days you spend here, how many years you work, just get it done before I die of old age!” He laughed then, eyes closed surrounded by wrinkles.

Garou had merely nodded, seeing this impossible task for what is was: a stepping stone for his new path.

At least he had a roof above his head during the day, and Charanko wasn’t stingy enough to deny him a bite of his lunch now and then. But he couldn’t stay at the dojo, with the HA still sniffling around and memories to haunt him. Garou didn’t want to sleep there, where once he had done so side by side with comrades. People who he had trained with, lived with, but with whom he still couldn’t connect. Truth be told, only now he realised it hadn’t been a matter of couldn’t, more like wouldn’t.

He wandered, sleeping where he could, evading heroes, keeping to himself. He spent a lot of time outside his task on the woods, where he felt most comfortable. He still settled down in the city, for practical reasons. All the fun was there.

He found Metal Bat one day, strolling without a care in the world in the darkness, long past the sun had gone down and little high school boys should be asleep. Garou didn’t intend to interact with hero, but he was bored, so he followed him.

Metal Bat had been strong, deserving of his rank. He had a freak way of fighting, receiving damage like crazy to get ‘pumped up’ to fire his ‘Fighting Spirit’. Yeah, insane. Good thing Garou liked things a bit mad, besides, it worked, the guy would have defeated him, if not for his sister. A brat just as bad as him, apparently.

Well, it had been fun, but Garou wasn’t looking for a fight now. He had fought enough the past weeks. He wasn’t even sparing, turning down Bang’s offering and Charanko’s challenges.

So he brushed the meat head off, time and time again. Garou would admit the first encounter a coincidence, but the other two were proposital. Metal Bat had an attractive energy to him, it was fun getting him riled up, knowing he could poke and prod and get a reaction every time. His burning eyes, wild swings, confident swagger, it made a picture that appealed to Garou because of one little detail: Metal Bat was a complete softie.

It was endearing in a way Garou rarely felt, like when that ugly kid had invited him to read his stupid hero book together. The tough exterior just overlaid a protective big brother and a dotting friend. Garou had too much free time, so yeah, he stalked the other a bit, and had seen the hero’s family. His little sister - Zenko, was it?- and another teenager, a civilian, with black, spiked hair. There was none of that heroship bullshit between those three, just casual familiarity.

Garou followed him two more times before the guy flipped. He thought at the time, with a bit of regret, that was the end of it, but to his surprise the hero came back with a peace offering.

It happened fast from there, Garou got sucked up into Metal Bat orbit, spending time together, talking shit, snacking, just being . It was good, Garou never had anyone to do something like that. He wasn’t completely human anymore, his body and emotions fraying at the ends on bad days, but neither had he left humanity behind. He still had compassion, he still had kindness, and he had no intention of letting those go.

He would discover that he also had love.

Being accepted into the family was sudden, but he clicked there in a way nowhere else had ever done. Metal Bat became Badd, and soon they were living together. Garou soon realised he loved the hairstyled meat head, the bossy brat and the big mouthed idiot.

The kissing was just a bonus that Garou was proud to say had been his idea.

…

Garou usually slipped into the house the same way Tama, the cat, did: by the kitchen window. When in the mood for surprises, he entered the door.

Today he came through the yard, because he liked keeping his boyfriend on his toes. The house was quiet, no television on or bangs of pots in the stove or bickering from the living room. Sometimes he found the place empty, everyone caught up in one activity or another. Garou would just raid the fridge for leftovers and curl on Badd’s futon with one of the magazines laying around.

As he silently stepped into the living room, he realised he wasn’t alone. From his room - well, his, and Badd’s and Akira’s- there low voices mixed with sniffling, like someone sick. Or crying.

Garou sometimes felt like he had stepped in the middle of a scene he hadn’t rehearsed for. Akira and Badd easily delivering their lines, with Zenko piping up her contributions, and Garou would freeze, because no one had given him a script. To compensate he usually acted more like an infuriating bastard, because it got Badd riled and made Akira smile and Zenko would scold him. He was a new character in the making, still discovering his nuances and personality, figuring out how to fit.

But a few things still left him completely lost, like when Zenko had gotten him- such a badass kid- and she had frozen, chalk white, when seeing his blood. He didn’t know how to soothe, to make pains go away. Badd was good at that, Akira was good at that, even Zenko did it better, when Tama had gotten sick and the girl had sat with the cat the whole night.

That’s why when he peeked into the room and saw Akira with his face buried on Badd’s neck, his shoulders shanking silently, and Garou’s gazed crossed with Badd’s, all he did was nod, and step back.

Better leave those two to their own devices for a while. 

When he returned later, Akira was back to his talking self, red eyes and all. Badd was grave, clearly thinking too hard, getting too pissed off, but he said nothing and Garou didn’t pry. Later the guy would cool down.

o.O.o

Zombieman didn't remember his true name. That didn't bother him as much as it did since he stopped being known as Sample 66, considering that the person he was before didn't matter as much as the one he wanted to be now. He assured himself that the strength he tried to achieve was less for his own accomplishments, and more about preventing worse abnormalities than himself from being created by people. He might kill monsters on a daily basis, but he had always known humans were the ones with imagination for doing monstrous deeds.

Therefore, he seeked to decipher a mystery: Saitama. Since defeating without breaking a sweat the Monster King, the man was a freak object Zombieman wanted to understand. Dr. Genus might have given his analyses and promise to look into it, but the hero wanted to investigate by himself.

Zombieman had found the place Caped Baldy had been living with Demon Cyborg. It wasn’t difficult, a few minutes surfing the web had shown him fan pages with their last sightings. He would have to bring up such security breach in the next meeting. 

He had been following the routine for just a few days and, so far, he concluded the man absolutely ordinary. It was baffling. The most unusual event was the congregation of three S class heroes in the man’s new residence: Bang, King and the ever faithful Genos. Besides Fubuki, Tornado’s younger sister. There were eventually other people, like some C class, and a man he was positive was actually a criminal. Their gatherings’ reason remained a secret, and he could only speculate on their subject. It was possible their business extended beyond hero work, but there wasn’t proof, yet.

He was aware Metal Bat’s residence was just a few blocks away. Zombieman had seen the hero accompanied by his notorious sister and another teen- Akira, he assumed- in a run to the local market. Had he not asked Badd directly about that rumor, he would have thought them a couple. The easy familiarity, constant contact, and the blatantly demonstrations of affection, when Akira took hold of Badd’s hand, kissing his cheek. So far, there had been no correlation between Saitama and Metal Bat.

Zombieman wasn’t sure how he felt about such information.

He stood by the complex Saitama inhabited with Genos, in the shadow and out of way, partially hidden in a small side street rarely used. There was a reunion currently occurring between Saitama, Genos, King, the guests having arrived minutes before.

"Hey," someone called behind him.

Zombieman didn't startle, not because he knew someone had been approaching, but because he mostly didn't worry about such things. He never got jumpy, not since he gained consciousness.

He could only speculate on the person he was before, but he liked to think he had been normal enough, having his heartbeat spike at a fright, his breathing shallow before a threat, his eyes moisten because of loss. 

Most days passed with his emotions padded, distant. It was difficult caring about anything, even himself. What would the point be, really? If something got him, it got him. He would just regenerate, ready for another massacre. It didn’t matter that every time he died, he felt like a part of himself stayed behind in the afterlife.

Zombieman made true effort to care about the little things: niceties, politeness, eating, washing, people's lives. He tried connecting with others, faces to ground him to this plane, reasons to fight even when it all seemed superfluous, lost and pointless.

So he made a point in noticing things and people, in letting himself feel and bother. When Pig God was eating, he made himself look at every bite he took, every crumble that flew out, just so he would never forget disgust. When Tornado got into a fit, he would make himself listen to every word, attentive to every nuance and break, just so he wouldn't forget annoyance . When listening to Child Emperor making an analysis, giving out instructions with all his effort, with the seriousness befitting of a respectful adult, he let himself feel fondness. 

When hanging with Badd, he would attend to every stutter, every tone and glance, every shrug and motion, every unsaid word, just so he wouldn't forget what friendship felt like.

He turned, facing the person that had called him. To his surprise, it was Badd’s friend.

“Hey, man,” Akira repeated, smiling broadly. “Zombieman, right?” He asked, though it was obvious. “You looking for Badd?” He barreled right in.

“No, just in the middle of a job,” he responded, vague enough that it should make clear he wouldn’t disclose anything more, but still polite. “Akira-kun, if I’m not wrong?”

The teen looked at him silently, then. It had been a while since a civilian had put him under so undisguised perusal. Most were drawn to his unusual red eyes and his weapons. Akira, though looking at his eyes, appeared to be seeing right through him. It was a bit unsettling. 

“Yeah,” he responded slowly. “So, does your job entail stalking someone in that apartment complex?” He asked, smirking. Zombieman revealed nothing. “Perhaps Saitama?” Akira continued. Zombieman allowed his head to incline, knowing he had been caught. 

“Perhaps,” he conceded.

“Would you like to come in?” Akira suddenly offered, already walking towards the apartment. He was laden with market bags, bottles of tea and cans of soda clicking together. “We are having a little get together.”

Intrigued beyond himself, he followed. It was the perfect opportunity to learn more about those reunions. He didn’t expect the people there to speak as freely with him present, but maybe he could gather some information. Apparently, Badd, too, had connections with the infamous Caped Baldy.

“Badd will be coming around later, he might bring his sister.” Akira commented as they went up the stairs.

“I see.” He replied. “Thank you for the invitation, but isn’t it a bit presumptuous just bringing someone without contacting Caped Baldy, owner of the house?”

Akira froze in front of the door. He burst out laughing suddenly. Zombieman gazed at him serenely.

“Oh, man,” he wiped tears from his eyes. “I have been away so long even the professional detectives think this house is my brother’s.” And produced a key to open the door, throwing a glance at the man. “This is my apartment, Zombieman-nii-san. My brother and Genos just moved over temporarily."

Oh. Zombieman didn’t expect that, nor the casual treatment.

“Ah, and don’t say that name here. He doesn’t like it,” Akira murmured, as if sharing a secret. “Tadaima!” Akira called out. “I brought a surprise!”

There were many voices welcoming him, most falling silent as eyes laid on Zombieman. He had an excuse at the tip of his tongue, just to brush off most suspicions, but Akira beat him to it. “Guys, this is Zombieman, Badd’s friend.” He kicked his sneakers off, turning to him. “Zombieman, this is Saitama-onii-chan and his friends: King-nii, Bang-san and Genos. Please, come in.” Politely, Zombieman nodded, taking his boots off.

“Here man, don’t you wanna take your coat off?” Akira asked. He denied, mindful of the number of weapons weighing it down. “Well, I won’t complain, you do look very good wearing it,” Akira shamelessly compliment, startling Zombieman into raising his eyebrows.

Zombieman studied the people present, quickly coming to the conclusion that the meetings didn’t seem to be more than casual gatherings. There was a video game hooked to the television, a fight taking place between Saitama and- King. Quite unexpected, but people were entitled to their hobbies. There was junk food littering the low table, music coming from a boombox, pleasantly filling the air with an electronic beat. 

Genos stood by the small kitchenette, fiddling with pans on the stove. He had a pink apron on, completely concentrated on his task.

People settled quickly around him, an event usual enough that they all knew their roles, leaving Zombieman to drift by the sides. It didn’t bother him, since it was a common occurrence, but mainly because he had shown up uninvited.

He took advantage of the distractions to pay attention to his target, Saitama. Up close, the man was as ordinary as far away. He lost every match against King, complained about the refreshments choice to Akira, grumbled about free loading people. He seemed like a normal person with normal problems and worries. It was almost unthinkable so much power could reside in a person like this.

“Tadaima!” Badd called entering the apartment. Zombieman was surprised in seeing him with his own key. Their eyes quickly met. 

Zombieman wasn’t afraid as much as apprehensive about the teen’s reaction in meeting him here. Badd was one of the few people who enjoyed spending time with him, people usually being fearful of his pale complexion, ‘like a corpse’, it had been said to him once; and other heroes were quite uncaring, or even hateful, thinking him a monster. It hurt, but only because he allowed it.

Zombieman enjoyed thinking he and Badd were friends. He hopped the other wouldn’t  respond badly to him showing up uninvited to his life.

“Zombieman!” Badd grinned, a small girl holding his hand. The man relaxed, glad his presence wasn’t immediately a problem. The afternoon soon blended into evening. Conversation flowed better after Badd's arrival. A warm feeling filed his chest, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

…

"Thanks for staying," Badd told him as they left Saitama's residence together, his sister sleeping soundly in his arms. "Those guys can be a pain," it didn't scaped Zombieman that was Badd's favorite word for describing his friends. 

"I had fun," he replied, surprised in realising it was true. He had never been so well received, it had been new, a bit overwhelming. Akira and Badd had stayed by his side the whole time, he had gotten to talk to them about the most varied topics, without worrying about stepping on eggshells.

He had felt accepted, liked. That's why he felt the need to be completely honest with Badd. The teen probably knew of Saitama’s strength, he needed to know Zombieman’s desire to study it.

"Actually-"

"Look-" They stopped, awkwardly. Zombieman nodded, encouraging  Badd to speak first.

The teen scowled, hugging his sister closer, as if searching for courage. For all his rebellious brattish exterior, it was clear as day he was a sensitive young man. "I kinda lied, back at the park," he confessed. "I do have a boyfriend." Was the unexpected reveal. He turned away from Zombieman, cheeks slight pink, observing him by eventual sideways glances. "Maybe I'll introduce you guys," he mumbled, lowly.

Zombieman couldn't help smiling, he nodded. "I understand. If judging by Akira, I'm sure he will be a person just as good." 

"Yeah…" Badd murmured, non believing. "What did you have to say?"

Zombieman hesitated, because he didn't want to lose what he had conquered. This wasn't like his life, that restarted over and over again. It could very well just end.

Badd gazed at him attentive. His sister mumbled in her sleep, face turning to hide in Badd's neck, as if seeking his protection even in her slumber. The teen rubbed her back with soothing motions, probably unaware of his protective grip. Zombieman allowed himself to look, and see what love looked like.

"Akira gave me his number," he ended saying. Maybe later, when he had found courage like Badd, he would disclose the whole truth. “He told me to call whenever.”

"Tch," Badd spitted on ground, masking a smile. "That guy…"

They soon parted after that.

Zombieman mounted his bike, starting the engine and leaving as quietly as possible, mindful of the hour. As he drove down the street, when he passed an intersection with mounting speed, he saw Badd, because of his distinctive red shirt, much obviously kissing someone. It was a taller person, slim and muscled, with telling white hair divided in two mounts. 

He kept his eyes forward and hit the accelerator. He had seen nothing.

It really wasn't his business.

Owari.