Chapter Text
He should have known when Saitama came crashing back down onto the ship after having just been sent flying into space, looking as unharmed as he had when they had started. The difference in strength should have been clear at that point. However, the sudden wave of rage at finding himself to be the inferior one had led him to attack in a flurry, striking the human with repeated blows from all angles. The following counterattack, too fast for him to even react to, had blasted him backwards and left him wheezing and coughing up blood when he finally skidded to a halt, his organs scrambling to regenerate inside his body.
For just a moment, Boros felt a wave of euphoria from the realization that this was the first time that someone had been able to stand up to him, even damaging him in his strongest form. That feeling quickly turned into disbelief and shock when a series of punches rained down on him, reducing his body to near nothing in the blink of an eye. He could feel death grasp at him, something that was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected. A part of him was overcome with terror at the prospect of dying, while another part of him was thrilled that he was even still capable of experiencing this kind of fear.
It took only a second for him to pull himself back together, to reform his body to what it was before. Everything in him screamed at him to retaliate with every last drop of strength he possessed. To blow Saitama and his entire planet to smithereens and erase humankind from the universe. He could feel the energy crackling at his fingertips and coursing through his entire body, ready to be released at a moment’s notice.
He held it back.
The surface of his ship cracked once more beneath his feet as he let himself fall back down. And his opponent kept his distance. He stood still, his eyes never leaving Boros, but his body was relaxed and full of openings. No sign of weariness, of caution, of defense.
It wasn’t necessary. They both knew that much. There was nothing Boros could have done to harm him. None of his strikes had done any damage so far and he doubted that even his strongest attack would be able to inflict more than a scratch on this man. On the other hand, it would have been easy for Saitama to kill him at any point during their confrontation, had he actually tried.
Boros released the energy swirling inside of him, letting it evaporate into nothing as he forced his body to morph back into its original form. His mouth formed a grim line as soon as his facial features had taken shape again. His muscles twitched with unspent tension, still eager to fight. But he didn’t act on it. It would have been pointless.
The change in the air didn’t escape Saitama either. His eyes lost their sharpness as he witnessed his transformation and recognized the harmless form from before. Well… the one that was even more harmless to him.
“I lost,” Boros said, more to himself, his voice flat.
His opponent was silent, face devoid of emotion. There was no need to say anything.
Boros recognized the look in Saitama’s eyes and he felt sorry. For himself, having conquered so many planets and beating their strongest, only to experience a crushing defeat at the hands of a single enemy who didn’t even have to give it his all. One he had sought out for the sole purpose of finding his equal in strength.
But he also felt sorry for said enemy. Because he had been where Saitama was for far too long. This fight had been refreshing. Boros had gone decades without a decent match, always hunting for the one that might pose a challenge, always desperate to find a strong opponent. And he had found him.
He had been able to fight with everything he got. He had gone all out without any restraint. Without having to worry about putting too much power into his attacks and ending the fight after mere seconds. Saitama had reignited the excitement of fighting a strong opponent within him, as well as the joy that came from pushing himself to his limit, if only for a little while. But that alone was more than enough. It was so much more than any other enemy had given him.
And Boros hadn’t been able to give him anything in return. He hadn’t even posed a challenge. It made him feel insignificant and worthless, two sentiments he hadn’t felt in ages.
“I apologize,” he said quietly after a moment had passed between them that was only accompanied by the rumbling of the ship as it finally reached damage levels critical enough to crash to the planet’s surface.
“Hm? What for?” Saitama asked.
Boros’ voice was filled with bitterness. “You didn’t get to give it everything you got. Even when you attacked, you held back a large part of your power. You cured me of my boredom while I… I couldn’t return the favor.”
Saitama stared at him, face still as blank, until he finally shrugged. “Whatever. I didn’t really expect anything from this,” he said and Boros could tell that it was a lie.
There was a part of Saitama – maybe subconscious, maybe even tiny, but there nonetheless – that was disappointed. That had expected something. Something Boros had been unable to deliver. And he thought, with a heavy feeling in his gut, that Saitama was truly someone to be pitied. If he, Boros, who had never lost a fight in well over twenty years and who had been plagued by unbearable boredom for almost as long, couldn’t pose even a hint of a threat… then there might not be a single being in the entire universe who could.
Boros clenched his fists. It was a miserable thought.
“Saitama.”
The human looked up from inspecting his singed armor, his mouth opening slightly when he saw Boros’ serious expression.
“Should you allow me to live, I will pick up on my training and I shall not stop until I am finally able to pose a challenge to you, so we may both feel the rush of a true battle once more. I am not in any position to make requests, but please accept my proposition and let me stay on this planet with you until the day we may be able to face off as equals.”
Boros caught Saitama’s eyes, noticing a miniscule shift in them. It was gone in a blink and Boros didn’t know what it meant. It was impudent of him to ask this, Boros knew that. To take the initiative like this and propose a course of action for the future despite being the one who had lost. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help but hope that the human might accept his suggestion. Both for his own sake and for the human in front of him, in order to possibly repay him one day.
“If that’s what you want,” Saitama said slowly. “I don’t really care if you wanna stay here, as long as you don’t destroy anything or kill people.” He frowned when he said that. “What you did to City A seriously wasn’t cool.”
“Of course. I shall not destroy any more of your civilization,” Boros said solemnly.
Saitama scratched his head. “Then it’s fine by me, I guess.”
“Thank you.” Boros tipped his head to the side and back, revealing his jugular to express both his gratitude and his submission. When he straightened his posture again, he said, “I cannot promise that I will ever reach your level, but I will try.”
Saitama blinked. “Okay.”
Boros smiled, closing his eye for a moment. He didn’t find the equal he had been promised by the seer. He should have known that it was just a ruse to get him to leave their planet, maybe even an attempt to lure him to his death.
He did, however, find a kindred spirit. Someone who was as lonely with his overwhelming power as Boros had been; no, even more so than him. For invading his planet and wasting his time with a petty challenge, Boros owed the human this much at least. Especially since he was the loser of their battle and Saitama had decided to let him live, obligating Boros to stay with him as his new servant.
He had never entertained the thought of getting into this kind of position. It was usually him who did the conquering of other planets and reigning over the ones he had defeated. He had yet to see whether he was any good at taking the submissive role himself. However, he was willing to learn and put everything he had into it. His new master was strong. Incredibly so. He was someone Boros could respect and follow. Who knew, maybe he would be able to gain the human’s appreciation one day.
“Guess I should go back down if we’re done here. Genos is probably wondering why this is taking so long.”
At Saitama’s words, Boros opened his eye again, contemplating his new master. “In that case, I shall come with you.”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug, rolling his shoulder with the same motion and using the momentum to lean down and punch a hole into the very battered ship. As soon as he had created an opening this way, he hopped through.
With a ping of something like grief at seeing the ship he had captained for so many years in this wrecked condition, Boros followed him inside. Saitama looked left and right down the corridors, scratching his head, and when Boros landed next to him, he turned around to ask, “So, can you show me where the exit is? Your ship has a bit of a confusing layout.”
“Of course.”
Without hesitation, Boros turned left, making sure that Saitama followed and setting a pace that would ensure his master was only half a step behind him yet could still be considered to walk at his side. He took in the destruction of the ship’s interior as they went, as well as the dead bodies of his crew, all of whom had been killed for following him on this quest. He would honor them by keeping all of their names engraved in his memory for the rest of his life.
“Here it is,” he finally said, indicating the exit with a sweep of his palm. After he pressed a button on the wall, the ship let out a pained groan as the hatch opened with a stutter, almost falling off its hinges in the process.
“Sweet.” With a small smile, Saitama exited the ship first. Boros followed him. The loud voices that had carried through the opening before died down instantly.
“Sensei?”
There was another human approaching quickly… no, it looked like a human, but at closer inspection, its body seemed to be made of metal instead. The unknown creature fixed Boros with a curious glance out of yellow eyes on a black sclera.
“There’s another one?” a different voice carried over.
More humans were assembled around the crashed ship, all of them exerting distinct signatures of energy, indicating them to be warriors, though they seemed much weaker than Saitama. One of them raised some sort of club in preparation of a fight, his energy flaring. Multiple others followed suit, adopting battle stances, if a little less eager.
“Sensei, who is that?” The metal creature spoke again, clearly addressing Saitama. Boros’ gaze sharpened, taking in its features with more focus now. Saitama had a student? Not surprising, all things considered. They were probably flocking to him. Boros would have to evaluate this students’ strength later.
“Oh, that’s uh… Beerus. He’s the boss of the aliens.”
“My name is Boros,” he corrected. Had he been so weak that Saitama didn’t even remember his name? This was truly shameful. “As he correctly stated, I was the leader of the pirates known as the Dark Matter Thieves. Though I guess this is irrelevant now that there is nothing left of my crew.”
“So, you’re the last one we need to beat down. Step aside, Baldy, we’ll take over from here.” The club wielding human came closer, swinging his weapon threateningly and ignoring Saitama’s protest at the name.
Boros held up a hand. “There is no need for further battle. I already admitted defeat.”
One of the humans – one who had green hair and was much shorter and more petite than the rest – started floating towards him, coming to a stop only a few feet away. Boros made a mental note that this species was capable of developing psychic powers as well. “So, you saw what we did to your crew and now you think you can escape their fate with some empty words? Hmph! I don’t think so!” The voice was much higher than those of the others. Considering the difference in stature as well, possibly a female?
As the psychic spoke, Boros could already feel the signature pull of energy tug at him. Now, while Boros didn’t exert any kind of special psychic powers himself, he certainly was no stranger to espers. There were entire planets inhabited by them that he had conquered. Geryuganshoop had come from one such planet, after all. Boros didn’t particularly enjoy fighting against them, he preferred real combat, but that didn’t mean that he was defenseless against them.
He quickly focused his own energy and concentrated it within his body, making it more resistant to psychic attacks. Despite his instant reaction, the blast that had been sent towards him threw him back and his feet skidded across the planet’s ragged surface, searching for grip. At least he managed to stop before he was slammed into the wall of his ship. This one was strong.
“Eh, there’s really no need to fight,” Saitama said, looking between them dispassionately. “He already said he’d stop destroying things.”
The esper ignored him, raising a hand now to direct her(?) powers in a more focused way and clenching it tightly. Boros hurried to block most of the waves she sent at him, sticking strictly to defense. Even so, he could feel his limbs and chest constrict painfully until he managed to escape the psychic grasp and leap to the side.
Feeling a bit lost, Boros’ eye searched for Saitama, but his master’s face was blank and he didn’t give out any orders. Maybe it was a test for him to figure out how to solve this situation on his own? A second later, he had to jump out of the way to avoid a large boulder being hurled at him when the esper switched tactics. Evidently, she had realized that he was too well-trained in psychic defense to harm him effectively with direct attacks on his body.
He twisted in mid-air to intercept the blow of the club as the other human rushed at him with a battle cry. The impact sent vibrations all throughout his arm, telling him that this one was a rather strong specimen as well. On top of that, the weapon was made of a hard material. Breaking it could pose a challenge. He would preferably have to disarm the human.
From the corner of his eye, Boros saw his master speaking to his metal student, before he had to twist and contort his body to avoid a series of vicious attacks from a rather frail and already battered looking human whose appearance betrayed the swiftness and finesse behind his blows.
This wasn’t working. They would just keep attacking if he stuck to defense. He needed to take them out. So, when he jumped back a greater distance and narrowly avoided a sword in the process, he didn’t waste any time and let the energy flow through his body once more, going into battle mode as the veins along his arms began to glow and his skin hardened and turned black. His limiter was still off, so he would have to be careful not to kill his opponents. His master had told him not to cause any more damage after all.
A darker colored human attempting to tackle him from the side was sent flying backwards thanks to a swift hit from his open palm. The man impacted with a slab of concrete in a cloud of dust. A swordfighter met a similar fate as Boros flashed forward, ducked beneath his weapon and kicked him in the side of the head with a twist of his leg.
It was… dull. He hadn’t expected much of a fight, it wasn’t the point of this in the first place… but going back from fighting at full strength to barely even trying left him with a bit of an empty feeling. This planet’s species was strong, in relative terms. However, there was no comparison between these humans and Saitama, he thought as he sidestepped the club that came down on him again.
There was a blur at his right side and he turned his head just in time to see his own arm fly through the air, detached from his body. He could see the second strike coming, darting back in the nick of time.
Momentarily surprised, Boros hurried to create some distance between him and the swordfighter. Since it had been so easy to get past his defenses, Boros hadn’t seen him as much of a threat. But he had delivered a swift attack despite his injuries. It seemed like he had underestimated the man.
In his haste to retreat, he didn’t notice the club until it struck the back of his head, stopping him abruptly mid-jump and slamming him straight into the ground with bits of debris flying everywhere.
“Finally got ya,” he heard the human say in a gruff voice.
Considering the minimal amount of damage the attack had done, the human really shouldn’t sound so pleased with himself. Boros got up slowly, using the pause in the fight to assess the situation. The club wielder stood in front of him, weapon resting on his shoulder while the other humans had surrounded him. The swordfighter and the dark-skinned man he had both sent flying before were slowly approaching, but a quick glance told him that they had sustained considerable damage, showing him that most humans appeared to be a lot more fragile than Saitama was.
“Careful,” the swordfighter said as he came closer, leveling Boros with a wary glance. There was fresh blood smeared across his chin. “This one packs quite a punch.”
“At least he’s not as tough as the last one, if he already took this much damage,” the one with the club replied.
With his eye narrowed at such arrogance, Boros concentrated on sending energy into his abdomen and down the stump of his arm, both of which regenerated immediately, leaving not a trace of damage. One of the humans swore.
“If you are talking about my general Melzargard, I have to disappoint you. He was strong, and I am certain he fought well, but even at his peak he was no match for me. You, too, have no hope of winning against me.”
Before anyone could attack him again – one muscled human with short, dark blonde hair was already ducking into a fighting stance – he continued, “However, there is no need for further battle. As I’ve said, I already surrendered after suffering defeat at the hands of your leader.”
“Our leader?!” he psychic asked quickly, skirting forward in the air in sudden agitation. “Did you meet– Who are you talking about?”
Boros frowned in confusion at the question. “I was defeated by Master Saitama.” He gestured at the man who groaned. His student went rigid at his side.
“C’mon, not you too. Stop it with the whole master stuff,” Saitama said, rubbing his forehead in what looked like pain.
“Him?” The esper seemed confused for a second before she laughed, wavering in the air. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “Is that what he told you? That’s ridiculous! There’s no way this guy could be our leader!”
That came as a surprise. Boros’ eye widened. “I assumed he was, based on his strength.”
Saitama folded his arms in front of his chest, tilting his head slightly to the side. “Nah, I’d make a terrible leader.”
“Agreed!” the esper snapped. “And if you think he’s the strongest we, have you’ve got to be pretty pathetic yourself.”
Confused, Boros analyzed their energy signatures one more time as they spoke. Could he have misjudged them the first time? No, he had recognized Saitama’s potential even before the man had entered his throne room, and there was no doubt that the signatures of these humans were weaker. It was possible that they could suppress their true strength, but– no, during their brief fight just now they hadn’t even posed a threat. Which meant… why did this species put individuals in charge who were inferior in strength? It seemed illogical. Unless the armor they wore posed as a limiter as well…
As he contemplated that, he took note of the conversation still surrounding him.
“Don’t be so sure of that, Tornado. I have seen Saitama’s strength myself. You might have the wrong idea about him,” the frail looking human said.
“Hmph! If you think some B-Class nobody is strong, it might say more about your own abilities than it does about his!”
“You have no right to speak about Saitama-sensei like that, you little brat!” the metal student spoke up, looking ready to fight. His voice spoke of fierce loyalty and dedication, making Boros wonder whether he, too, had started out as a servant who had since been acknowledged as a student.
However, with the flick of a wrist and a “Shut up!”, the esper, Tornado, sent him flying into the next wall.
“Oi, Genos.” Saitama went over to his student, prying him from the stone. “You alright?”
The esper turned back, but Boros was already in front of her, his fist slamming into the shield that was erected at the last second. Tornado directed her psychic powers outwards, but Boros retaliated with his own aura flaring up around him, in part to avoid being torn apart. They were both pushed back by the force of the clash. As they separated, Boros fired a wave of energy balls at her, all of which changed direction to harmlessly land in the surrounding area before they even got close to the esper.
Gritting his teeth, he dodged a punch thrown at him by an unarmored man, skirting around him to get back at the esper that had disrespected Saitama by not just insulting him repeatedly but, even worse, by attacking his student directly. However, Boros’ path was blocked again by the swordfighter aiming a swing at his neck.
Dodging would have been a narrow affair but certainly an option. However, Boros didn’t stop, intending to take the hit in exchange for a blow that would knock the human out, but that never happened. Before he or his opponent could react, Saitama appeared between them, his face speaking of slight annoyance. Boros’ fist had been caught in one hand while the human stared at the shattered remains of his sword with wide eyes. Boros hadn’t even seen it break.
“Hey, would you knock it off already? I thought the fighting was over.”
Boros took a step back, relaxing his muscles and letting his battle aura dissipate. His skin returned to its normal, light blue color a second later. “I apologize, Master. I merely tried to defend your honor,” he said. At the same time, he realized that what he had done had been the opposite of what he meant to do. Whatever it was Saitama had expected of him, Boros had failed so terribly that his master had to step in to stop him.
“Well, don’t. It’s not necessary. And stop calling me that. I already have a disciple, I don’t need another one,” Saitama said, releasing his hand from the tight hold.
Boros flexed his fingers, casually healing the sprain he had sustained in one of them. “Disciple?” He cast a quick glance at the metal creature who watched them from the sidelines, looking a bit worse for wear. “I’m afraid you misunderstand. You defeated me in battle, which makes me your servant.”
Saitama’s eyebrows knit together. “Dude, I don’t need a servant.”
Boros blinked. He was… dismissed? Just like that? He shook his head. “I apologize again for causing you trouble. As you can imagine, I am not used to the role. I just ask you to give me some time to adjust to my new duties and-”
“No, stop,” the human said, raising his arms and crossing them in the form of an X. A gesture Boros found a bit puzzling. “I’m serious, I don’t want a servant.”
The rejection stung. To be instantly dismissed as inadequate, especially by someone as respectable as Saitama, the first being that managed to surpass him… But his face was serious again, leaving no room for doubt. Boros sighed, closing his eye. “I understand. In that case, may I at least request to receive an honorable death at your hands?”
It was the only way for him to save face. Suffering a bitter defeat only to be denied the possibility of reclaiming his worth… if he walked away from this as a free being without earning it, he would be a disgrace to his race, dragging the name of the Dark Matter Thieves in the dirt. No, it would be better to be executed as someone who was bested by an unrivaled individual in terms of raw strength. It was one of the two honorable options.
Unfortunately, Saitama didn’t seem willing to grant his wish. “What the hell, I’m not gonna kill you.”
“Then let someone else do the job,” a different human with blue hair spoke up, whose gender Boros found difficult to determine. Humans just looked too similar and the differences were rather hard to tell for him, especially when their bodies’ anatomy was hidden behind armor. It appeared to be a male from the general shape, but he couldn’t be sure. Boros could see the blood of his crew splattered on their rather androgynous face. “I volunteer,” they added. Boros itched to kill them, but he held himself back.
“That really isn’t necessary,” Saitama tried again, moving between them in an instant and, without looking or even facing them, diverted the quick strike of the other human’s hand with his own arm when they darted forward to follow through with the suggestion. The effortless gesture that was used to deflect the attack caused them to step back in barely masked surprise.
“Just let him go or something. Doesn’t seem like he’s trying to destroy any more cities, so it’s all good, right?” Saitama looked back at Boros, addressing him directly. “I’m not going to kill you, so just do whatever you want, I don’t really care.”
“I want to serve you.”
He groaned again. “I didn’t mean- Look, why are you so stubborn about this? You don’t have to turn yourself into a slave.”
At first, it had looked like an act of disrespect, signifying that Boros was too weak to be of any use to him. However, it became clear to him now that Saitama genuinely didn’t seem to understand why this was so important to him. Maybe their cultural differences were too great? “I come from a race of warriors and conquerors. Walking away from a loss freely is the worst kind of humiliation, while being allowed to serve the one who bested me in combat would be the greatest honor I could receive in this situation. You may think of it as a gesture of mutual respect. It would mean a lot to me if you acknowledged me as an opponent that was worthy enough to keep around and serve under you,” Boros explained to emphasize his position. “If you won’t allow for that, it would be more merciful to kill me than it is to send me away.”
“Ugh, you sure talk a lot,” Saitama said, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “What about that thing you mentioned before? Didn’t you say you want to train or something?” There was frustration in his voice.
“I can hone my skills while I work under your command. After all, my only goal for gaining more power is to repay you with a proper rematch one day.”
Saitama dragged the hand up and over his head with a sigh, before he threw both arms in the air. “Fine! Whatever! Have it your way. Just– Don’t expect me to give you any… orders or something like that.”
A smile tugged at Boros’ mouth. Trying to convey all of his heartfelt gratitude with his tone, he said, “Thank you. I will do my absolute best so you won’t regret your decision.”
“I’m already regretting it.”