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Saitama squinted at the bald man squinting right back at him. Slowly, very very slowly, he turned his head around and watched the reflection do that same. After a few rotations and one revolution, he marched out of the bathroom.
“Genos,” Saitama called out. A hum was heard from the kitchen, along with the sound of running water.
The man stopped by the doorway and met eyes with the cyborg. “Would you shave your head for me?”
Genos paused.
“What.”
“Would you,” Saitama repeated as he entered the small area, “shave your head for me?”
The boy furrowed his brows. He turned to the tap and shut it off before facing Saitama again. “Why do you ask, Sensei?”
The man shrugged. “Just asking. Simple question for a simple answer. Would you do it?”
The cyborg before him was quiet at first, simply just staring down at him with a strange look in his blackened eyes. The brows furrowed deeper, if that were even possible. Saitama patiently waited and, after a few beats, the blond spoke.
“No.”
Saitama balked. “What? Why?”
“I thought Sensei wanted a simple answer-”
“Why wouldn’t you shave your head for me?”
“Why would I?” Genos asked back.
“I don’t know!” Saitama shrugged, throwing his hands in the air before stuffing them in his pockets. “Because you love me?”
“I do love you, Sensei. Very much,” Genos said as he turned back to the tap. “But that’s not how I show love. This is how I show love.” The blond resumed his rinsing of the dishes. “And this, as well.” He leaned into Saitama and gave the man a quick peck on the lips. He pulled back with a smirk. “And other ways. But certainly not shaving my head.”
Ignoring what that near-last statement meant as he felt red creeping up to his face, Saitama frowned. “What if it was?”
“It isn’t.”
“What if it was?”
“It isn’t.”
“What if,” Saitama left the kitchen, making his way to the other side of the small window they had in between the living room and it. “a monster aims a death beam or something at me, and the only way to stop it is to shave your head.”
“Sensei would survive that.”
“What if I didn’t?”
“You would.”
“What if I didn’t?”
“You would.”
Saitama groaned. He probably would.
He spun around and made his way to the balcony, sliding the door open with a loud thump. “You.” He pointed at the ninja perched upon the railing.
The said ninja gasped. “How did you know I was here?!” He asked as he donned his bright purple scarf at a grayscale building.
“Would you shave your head for me?”
Sonic (lol) paused.
“What.”
“Would you,” Saitama repeated, “shave your head for me? Like, what if that’s the key to defeating me. Or something.”
The ninja scrunched his face. “No, it’s not.”
“What if-”
“I worked hard on this length.” Sonic (lol) gestured to his ponytail. “Besides, the true key to your utter defeat is my brand new mastery, the Speed o’ Sonic Super Soundwave of Superiority!” The ninja stood on the railings and raised his katana high. “PREPARE YOURSELF, HERO SAITAMA!”
He dashed forward as Saitama shut the balcony door. The ninja hit his head on the glass and dropped down with a thump. He stopped moving.
“Can I borrow your phone?” Saitama asked Genos as he closed the curtains.
The cyborg emerged from the kitchen, texting into the said phone before giving it to the man. Saitama muttered his thanks as he exited the pest exterminator’s message box and scrolled through Genos’ contacts. He found a particular name and selected it. He placed the phone in his ear and listened to the ringing. After a while (it was like this guy didn’t want to pick up), a deep voice answered, followed by the echo of a rumble.
“Demon Cyborg?”
“King,” Saitama greeted.
A relieved sigh was heard, “Oh, Saitama-“
“Would you shave your head for me?”
King paused.
“What?”
“Would you,” Saitama repeated as he pointedly ignored Genos shaking his head, “shave your head for me?”
The rumbling on the other line got louder. A few beats have already passed by.
“Hello?”
“I think that’s a no, Sensei,” Genos piped in.
Saitama groaned, turning away from the boy. “Screw you, King.”
“Are we still up for Saturday?” Asked King.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll beat your ass.” Saitama ended the call without waiting for a reply. He spun around and found Genos shaking his head once again.
“Shut up.” Saitama glared before muttering. “Some disciple you are…” The man then perked up. “The old man!”
“Bang?”
Saitama began scrolling Genos’ contacts. His thumb suddenly froze. “Wait, no. Is that offensive? He’s old. Isn’t balding a sore spot for old people?”
“25 year olds as well.”
“That’s offensive.” Saitama skipped Bang’s name and continued scrolling. He reached the end of the list. “You don’t have Fubuki’s number?”
Genos looked as if he was offended as well. “Why would I have that cretin’s number?”
Saitama handed the phone back to Genos and walked to his closet. “Hold on, I think I have it. She gave me this card for her group or something and I didn’t have the will to tell her I didn’t have a phone.” He rummaged through his clothes and eventually found a black card falling out of one of his hoodies.
“Are we using my phone to call her?” Asked Genos as he sat by the table.
Saitama joined him by his side. “Yeah? Why?”
Genos replied with a sigh and gave the man his phone. Saitama gave him an odd look before punching in the number from the black card. He set the phone to speaker mode and listened to the ringing.
“Hello?”
“Fubuki,” Saitama spoke to the phone in between him and the cyborg.
“Saitama? My, my...” A sweet chuckle erupted from the woman. “Are-“
“Would you shave your head for me?”
Fubuki paused.
“What?”
“Would-“
“Sensei is asking if you would shave your head for him,” Genos said into the phone quickly.
Saitama glared at him. “What he said.”
The silence in the other line stretched. Saitama had to double check the screen of the phone to see if the call was still ongoing. A voice then began speaking after Saitama quickly jerked the phone to the side as Genos’ finger almost pressed the end call button.
“Is this a test?” asked Fubuki. “Like… if I shave my head for you, you would join my group?”
Saitama made a face. “No.”
“Then, no.”
“Okay, okay.” Saitama grabbed the phone before Genos actually got to press the end call button. “What if it actually was-”
“Still no.”
“Then why’d you ask?!”
Shuffling could be heard from the other line, “Why don’t you ask your ever so loyal disciple?”
The man gave the said ever so loyal disciple the most downturned frown a person could never match if they were to muster it with every inch and centimeter in their entire being, bar the said ever so loyal disciple because nobody could actually compete with that ever so present scowl on his supposedly ever so loyal face. “I already did. Brat said no.”
Fubuki blew a low whistle, “Well, if he wouldn’t say yes to you, who else would?”
Saitama widened his eyes. “Holy crap. She’s right.”
“By the way, you called this number. Does this mean you’re consideri-” Saitama closed the phone and handed it back to Genos, who in turn plucked it as if it were soaked in septic liquids that could seep into a cybernetic body.
“She has my number now. I’m getting a new phone.”
“What-“ Saitama shook his head. “Anyway, she’s right though. If you said no, then who else…” He trailed off. His silence received a questioning look from the boy. “Aha! Borrow phone again. Please. Before you incinerate it into ashes.”
Saitama opened his palms and made a grabby motion for Genos to place the phone back into his hands. The older man then began to scroll through the contacts once again, dutifully ignoring the concerned glances aimed at him as he noticed that he was chuckling in quite a wicked manner. Saitama let a small victorious shout and selected a contact from the list. He placed the phone into his ear, stared straight into Genos’ eyes with a smug grin, and waited for the person in the other line to pick up.
A click. “Hello!”
“Mumen!” Saitama cheered. “Would you shave your head for me?”
“Oh, hi Saitama!” Mumen Rider greeted. “No, no I wouldn’t. Why?”
Click.
Saitama dropped the phone into Genos’ awaiting palm. He then dropped himself unto the table.
“That’s it,” came Saitama's muffled voice. “I’ve asked everyone. Or, like, at least the people who cared about me for, like, 2%.”
Saitama couldn’t see, but he could feel the way Genos frowned deeper and pointed at the balcony. “That’s 2%?”
Saitama lifted his head and stared at the unmoving purple and black slump on their balcony floor. “‘Kay, 0.2%.” He dropped back down with a thump.
“Wait, Sensei.” Genos placed a tender hand on the other’s shoulder. “There is… still one more person you haven’t asked yet.”
Saitama peeked at the blond with a single curious eye, awaiting for the other to continue. A few beats passed before Genos took a deep breath.
“Sensei,” he said. “Would you shave your head for me?”
Saitama paused.
“What the fuck?”
The older man sat up straight and before he could bark a retort about how crude his fucking boyfriend was being today, Genos spoke over him. “What if, by the miracle of an all-powerful omniscient being, you were granted a grandiose gift of the growth of healthy, thick , raven hair. However, this implant has placed the state of my life, perhaps your other friends such as King and Mumen as well, or maybe even multiple innocent civilians, in terrible, horrible , abominable utter danger. The only cure is to shave it all off… would you do it?”
Saitama stared at Genos, and the boy eagerly returned the gaze. The older man let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and, after a few more shaky breaths, raised his chin up high.
“Yes.”
Genos widened his eyes.
“Yes,” Saitama repeated with a firmer tone. “I would shave it all off.” He stood up with all his determination, eyes slanting and features hardening. “And if it grew again, I’d just shave it all off again. If it would be for you, King, Mumen, Bang, Fubuki, or even the people who gave no shit at all, I’d do it in a heartbeat. Maybe even less! If I’m even capable of doing that, I don’t know, but I’d do it!” Saitama lifted a clenched fist up. “I’d shave. I’d pluck. Hell, I’d fucking wax! And why, god fuck why, do you ask?” The fist was brought to his chest, the sound it made as it collided echoed all throughout them. “Because I’m a hero. Doing something you don’t want to do for the people you love…” Saitama gave Genos a look, “...for the people who care about you, 0.2% or no percent at all… that’s what being a hero is all about.”
The younger man gaped at the other. It seemed that the light had shone brighter on where Saitama stood, a breeze had somehow entered the vicinity, making his hood flow and act as a substitute of the pure white cape the man donned in his service of heroism. If one were to listen closely, string instruments could be heard, the drums of power accompanying them, painting the scenario in such a harmonious, inspiring, screenshot.
“Sensei is lying.”
“Well, yeah! But it sounds way better than no .”