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Genos’s fifteenth birthday was a simple affair. Cake and candles, friends and family. They had never had much money, but each gift was chosen and wrapped with care. He had been happy.
Genos’s sixteenth birthday had happened between surgeries. Dr. Kuseno had brought soft foods for his new stomach to digest, and Genos had struggled to control his new hands, bringing each spoonful slowly to his mouth. He had stared straight ahead, not really tasting the expensive soup or the red bean milkshake, too focused on his future revenge.
His seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth birthdays had been nearly identical, and completely ignored. Dr. Kuseno had invited him back to the lab, or out for a meal, and Genos had refused. Every pause, every moment of idleness was a pointless distraction from his goal. The only gift he wanted was the mad cyborg’s head on a platter, but he contented himself by defeating monster after monster, seeing his enemy’s face on every single one.
Now, three days after his twentieth birthday, things were completely different. He sat in a nice seafood restaurant with Saitama on his right and Dr. Kuseno on his left, surrounded by people.
Bang and Blast were caught up in a conversation with the doctor, talking about past adventures and their hopes for the youth of today. Fubuki was lecturing Saitama over the proper wine to pair with fish, while the bald man completely ignored her. Mumen Rider was quietly fanboying over King, who seemed more focused on wrestling the meat out of his crab legs with limited success.
It was noisy but somehow comfortable, filling Genos with a strange, nostalgic warmth. Saitama’s hand reached over to brush against Genos’s fingers, and the cyborg suddenly found himself fighting back tears.
“Hey, you ok?” Saitama asked, turning to look at him. “The booze getting to you?”
Genos shook his head and just gripped Saitama’s hand, giving his lover a soft, private smile.
“In that case,” Bang said, pausing in his conversation to take Genos’s cup and fill it up again, “you need more hot sake!”
Genos took the offered drink with a polite nod, before putting it to his lips. The warm alcohol burned as it went down, activating his latest upgrade.
Now that he was legal to drink, Dr. Kuseno had given him the ability to feel the effects of alcohol, if only to the equivalent of .08% BAC. The light, pleasant buzz wouldn’t impair him if he got in a fight, but it still made him feel softer, warmer, more comfortable. He had to actively prevent himself from nuzzling into Saitama’s shoulder. Even if they were in a private dining room (to keep from being pestered for autographs), Genos knew Saitama would object to the PDA.
His actual twentieth birthday had been spent with Saitama, walking on the beach and eating ice cream, talking about nothing in particular. When they went back to the apartment, Saitama had taken Genos apart completely, making love to him slowly and sensually for what felt like hours. The memory made Genos blush more than the alcohol.
His eyes flicked to the older man, who was decimating the crab on his plate with surprising vigor, like he had a personal grudge against the crustacean. Still, his left hand gripped Genos’s, fingers twining together in a way that made the cyborg’s core surge with warmth.
He had only known most of these people for a few months, yet it felt like a vacuum in his life was slowly filling.
“Present time!” Dr. Kuseno said, and everyone started reaching under the table or digging into bags. The warmth in Genos’s core grew greater and greater as they presented their gifts.
“Gold earrings,” said Fubuki, handing over a small box. “A hero of your caliber shouldn’t be wearing silver.”
“A rhythm game, and a console to play it on,” said King. “This way you won’t break the controller, and it can help with coordination.”
An encyclopedia of monsters from Bang and Bomb came next, then a custom-made Caped Baldy T-shirt from Mumen Rider (which Genos put on immediately, much to Saitama’s chagrin). Dr Kuseno had already given him the alcohol upgrade, but passed Genos a box of his favorite dark chocolate anyway.
“My present is at home,” Saitama said, with a look that implied a thousand filthy things. Genos swallowed a lump in his throat and resolved not to jump his Sensei in front of six other people... barely.
The thought behind the gifts made Genos want to cry again. They could’ve just gotten him any old thing and he would’ve appreciated the gesture, but they were very clearly trying their best to make him happy.
Dr. Kuseno pushed a menu towards Genos, his smile soft and kind.
“What do you want for desser-“
CRASH!
The windows shattered, sending glass flying inward. Fubuki halted the glittering shards in midair as they all turned to face the sudden threat.
The monster was tall and spindly, with snapping pincers and a dozen crab-like legs. Its body was covered with scales that looked almost like rice, and its waist was wrapped in a dark green belt.
“Behold!” The monster yelled, clacking its pincers together. “I am Sushishi! I got sick from eating gas station sushi, and now I shall destroy the entire seafood industry! Fear... me...”
The monster’s eyes grew wide as it took in the assembled heroes. The heroes stared back in silence, broken only by the rising thunder of the King Engine. Genos moved to get up, but a strong hand fell on his shoulder.
“Don’t trouble yourself, birthday boy,” Bang said, rising to his feet. “Tonight is our treat, remember?”
Bomb joined his younger brother, cracking his knuckles, while Fubuki spun the glass shards in midair with a menacing smirk. Dr. Kuseno pulled a small box out of his pocket that quickly transformed into a very big gun. Mumen Rider moved to shield the presents, while King simply fixed the monster with his trademark intimidating glare.
Saitama didn’t move, just sat there holding Genos’s hand as though the monster wasn’t even there.
The carnage was swift and brutal, leaving nothing but a greenish smear on the ground that smelled faintly of cheap imitation wasabi. Genos didn’t even look up from perusing the dessert menu, discussing the merits of red bean vs matcha ice cream, and whether to split a slice of cheesecake.
This was Genos’s new life... and he realized he wouldn’t want it any other way.