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Saitama’s cactus was wilting.
His lazy brown eyes watched it from where he was leaning on the windowsill. It was slumped over a little, looking a bit dented in places. What a sorry sight, he thought, watching it for a moment longer before sighing and putting down his tiny watering can beside it.
His lightbulb shook suddenly, and tiny bits of loose plaster fell from the ceiling. On cue, a loud roar resounded throughout the city, and he blinked lazily. He had to inhale deeply before finding it in him to stand up.
Ah, so that was what Genos was called away for earlier…
He glanced at the clock. It was ten minutes slow, or something, but it’d been about an hour since Genos left. He shrugged. It was about time he hit the road too, then.
Saitama maintained a steady jog on the way, but as he got closer to the earthquakes and started spotting debris where buildings used to stand, he couldn’t help but speed up. Genos should’ve been able to handle this one, but…
He skidded to a halt as he rounded a corner and found himself at an intersection.
“Ah,” he said, glancing around. All the signs were broken.
A thunderous crash echoed from ahead and a gust billowed through his cape. He turned to the source, narrowing his eyes.
He shot off. The buildings were demolished now; stone and bricks were falling everywhere. There was a small crowd gathered up ahead. Why did people always have to watch?
He pushed through them. They were stuck together like seaweed or something, but he ambled through and paused when he saw Mumen Rider on the ground, glasses cracked and blood trickling from his mouth.
He rounded on the crowd. “Oi, can someone get this guy to safety?” What was with people, gawking all the time?
“Isn’t that the caped baldy…?” a woman whispered, turning her shoulder towards him and holding her child closer.
Ugh, there was no time for this. He glowered, a shadow falling over his eyes.
“He’s gonna bleed out. Get him treatment or something. He’s in this condition because he tried to help you,” he said, and that was that. He wandered towards the overgrown lizard towering over the city.
Where was Genos at?
He scanned the crowd, but he only noticed civilians and some fallen A and B-rank heroes. They didn’t look terribly injured, just down for the count. This gecko probably wasn’t paying attention.
As if on cue, the lizard’s huge tail flew around and slammed into a building. Saitama sped towards the debris to catch it before it could hit the civilians who were, for whatever reason, still watching. He turned back to them.
“Get out of here already!”
They took a moment to realise what he said and, despite who he was, finally decided to listen and scramble away.
He glanced back up in time to see a flash of fire surrounding the lizard, but it was cut off abruptly as it grabbed the source of it – Genos.
He jumped off the ground, leaving a small crater where his foot was, and landed on the lizard’s head.
“Oi.”
Genos looked up at him, wide-eyed from where he was stick in the lizard’s fist. Saitama took a moment to scrutinise him. Missing an arm, but thankfully not his lower body. For once.
He shifted his gaze down to the lizard. “Let go of him, damn gecko,” he said.
The lizard’s eyes went red and he roared. The ground shook and Genos winced, but he looked more pissed off than hurt.
Saitama hopped off of his head and launched a kick at his arm, slicing it and forcing him to drop Genos. The lizard screeched and threw fists towards Saitama, but didn’t even reach him before a punch landed on the top of his head.
Saitama jumped off and landed on the ground before the monster’s body did.
“Oi, Genos.”
Genos stood to attention, shifting his eyes from the lizard to Saitama. “Yes, sensei?”
“Let’s go home.”
Genos had just finished putting away their groceries – which had been on sale, and the only reason Saitama decided to buy any – when Saitama unzipped his superhero suit. He shrugged it off his shoulders and rolled them, sighing. He knew they couldn’t be hurting; Saitama never had any aches or pains. Sometimes it made Genos forget that Saitama was more human than he was, because he was even harder to damage than him.
When he finally removed his suit and slumped to the floor in just his shorts, Genos caught dozens of little white marks littering his sensei’s arms.
Scars…?
He froze for several moments, unable to process it. How could Saitama-sensei have scars?
Were they from before his training, when he wasn’t as invincible as he was now? Was there once an enemy who could have bested them?
He would have undoubtedly defeated them by now, but…
Who could’ve done it?
When could they have done it?
Obviously before Genos had met him, because Saitama-sensei was already invulnerable by then.
He stiffly marched over to Saitama, who was scratching his stomach absently. Saitama glanced up with bored, half-lidded eyes as he approached.
“Genos?”
Instead of replying, Genos knelt beside him and grabbed one of his arms.
“Oi.”
With his synthetic upgrades in his hands, he could feel the raised scar tissue when he slid the pads of his fingertips over them.
Saitama looked at him funny for a moment before realising what he was doing, and then he stilled. He looked down at his arm and now, more than ever, wished he had hair so he could hide his face.
“Who hurt you, sensei?” Genos asked, not sure if he was more furious or confused. Saitama was already bombarded by hate mail every day, from the people who he saved, and he just – he didn’t deserve anyone hurting him. Even though, realistically, Genos knew none of those people could possibly physically hurt him. But he just didn’t understand how…
Saitama tugged his arm out of Genos’s grip and rubbed it. “It was years ago,” he said, and moved to get up.
Genos grabbed him again. “Before your training?”
“Ah… yeah, sort of. Hey, are you making dinner, or what?”
“That answer doesn’t make sense, sensei.” Genos frowned.
Saitama groaned, rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “I, well. Yeah, it was before my training, kind of. But also during, and a little bit after. It’s been quite a while though.” He finally looked at Genos, who was still scowling at Saitama’s arm as if he could figure out what he wasn’t telling him. Saitama softened slightly, some tension dissipating from his shoulders. “Genos… look, it’s not a big deal. Nothing can hurt me anymore,” he said.
Genos looked up at him and he stared back blankly. “You’re disappointed by that.”
Saitama shrugged. “Aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re a cyborg now, right? Don’t you miss, you know… just. Feeling things?” He scratched his head again, a hot itch sparking over his skin. Ahh, this was all too weird. “Yeah, so. Wanna let go now? I’m hungry, and those vegetables expire today, so…”
“Sensei…”
Saitama groaned. This was so awkward and boring; this is why he never talked about it. It wasn’t even a big deal, anyway. He could hardly get hurt anymore, so…
“Who did it though?”
Saitama rubbed his hand over his face and kept his over his mouth. This was way too much trouble over some little scars. Why did he want to know so badly? “Can we eat if I tell you?”
Genos nodded before he finished talking, finally looking right at him instead of at his arm. Man, if he had hair, they’d be a bit less noticeable, at least…
“I did.”
Genos’s fingers slipped off of his arm and he finally shook himself free.
“I’m really tired, so you don’t have to cook dinner or anything,” he said, forcing a yawn and scratching his stomach as he traipsed towards his bedroom.
Genos didn’t follow.
He turned off the lights and pulled his threadbare blanket over his head.
He stared into the darkness for way longer than usual before burying his face in his pillow.
Saitama had been in bed for maybe a couple of hours when Genos crept into the room. He couldn’t sleep, but he tried to even out his breathing a little. Genos hesitated as he stood next to Saitama, but then got in his futon.
He always lied on his back. Said it was healthier, and that Saitama should too, but it was comfier to curl up. Besides, the heating wasn’t working and he was cold.
Why was he thinking about this shit when he could be sleeping and, you know, not thinking?
“Sensei.”
Ah, fuck.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you don’t hurt yourself now.”
Saitama’s eyes widened slightly at that and his breath hitched, but he didn’t turn over.
Genos powered down and fell into the closest thing he could get to sleep.
Saitama’s fist clenched around the fabric of his pillow and it tore a little.
Genos got up first.
Saitama stared at the wall. There was a little crack in the corner, just above the skirting. Was that from a recent monster, or was that just because the place was old?
Ugh. He didn’t wanna get out of bed. Genos was probably cleaning or something out there and Saitama didn’t really feel like continuing their conversation or…
This was stupid.
He was 25 years old, and this was dumb.
He rolled out of bed and pulled on the closest shirt. It didn’t smell bad, at least.
He padded out into the living room. Ah, Genos was reading something. At least he was distracted. He knelt in front of his cactus. Still wilting…
Genos appeared behind him and leaned over to inspect the cactus.
“Uh… Genos?” Does he not get the concept of personal space?
“I researched this, sensei,” he said. “We should check the roots and ensure they’re firm and white.”
Saitama blinked slowly. “Ah. Yeah. I guess I’ve been forgetting to do that…” He went to grab a knife before easing his cactus out of the soil. Sure enough, some of the roots were soft and mushy. He sliced them off and tossed them in the bin. Genos returned with a fresh pot.
“I got this when we bought groceries the other day. I noticed your cactus was wilting,” he said.
Saitama blinked a few times at the new pot. He hadn’t ever bought a new one for it. Never thought to, since he’d bought it.
“Oh…” He carefully deposited his cactus into it, then patted the soil down with his fingertips, as soft as possible. He turned to give a little lopsided smile to Genos. “Thanks.” He waited a beat before raising an eyebrow. He’d expected a “you’re welcome” or something, but hey, Genos was always a little weird.
Genos shook himself. “Sensei hasn’t smiled in a long time,” he said.
“Uh. Okay.”
Suddenly Genos was sitting right next to him, arms brushing. Oh. He’s warm. “Is it because of your cactus?”
Saitama leaned into him slightly. Ahhh, he’d been cold for weeks. This was nice. “Nah, not really. I’ve had it for ages. Just kinda thought if I could keep him going, I could keep myself going, y’know?”
Genos hummed, and the little mechanical buzzing noises were kind of making Saitama sleepy. And he was really warm, too.
“Sensei.”
“Hm?”
“Why did you hurt yourself?”
Saitama’s head fell back and he huffed as he frowned at the ceiling. “I kinda thought you wouldn’t ask. Or hoped, I guess.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Genos hastened to say, wires sparking uncomfortably, worried he’d brought up too many bad memories for Saitama-sensei. If anyone – mostly anyone – brought up Genos’s past, he wouldn’t want to answer. Ahh, he was an idiot…
“It’s fine.”
His eyes snapped onto him, surprised. Saitama-sensei didn’t really talk about himself much. He always played himself down. Except when he lied to the masses.
Genos scowled at the thought but shook it off. He wouldn’t let that dampen his spirit now, not when his sensei was going to tell him such personal things.
He shifted his weight and turned to face Saitama, who looked at him weirdly.
“You don’t have to be so formal about it,” he said. When Genos reluctantly shifted into a more relaxed position, he sighed and scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never talked about this, so I don’t know what to say really. I don’t want it to be cliché.”
“Sensei’s never cliché.”
“Please don’t butter me up, Genos.” He sighed, dropping his hand from his neck. He couldn’t help but look at the scars on his arms. He clutched the fabric of his pants. “It’s hard to remember when I started. I was always kinda bored growing up. Family wasn’t around, didn’t have many friends my age. That sorta thing.” He pursed his lips. “When I moved out, I was living in a pretty shady place. I told you about that though, when I got kicked out for breaking my landlord’s dirty deals.” He snickered. “I think it was after that. Uh. I can’t tell you when exactly, but… I was just. I was bored. I didn’t have interests, outside of wanting to be a hero. But being a hero was kind of… dull?” He made a face. “I wanted to be strong and I still wanna help people and stuff, I guess. I achieved what I set out to do: I’m the strongest. Yay,” he said, deadpan. “But…” his eyes fell to his arms again and dulled. “Nothing’s interesting. I don’t enjoy things. I never feel like doing anything in particular. Everything’s kind of just routine, and… doing this—” he waved an arm awkwardly before dropping it into his lap again, “—just became a part of that routine.”
He looked at Genos. Oil was spilling out from his eyes.
“Ah! Genos, don’t get that on the carpet!” he squawked, moving to grab tissues or something. Instead, he toppled over when Genos grabbed his wrist. “Hey—”
“You said you don’t enjoy things.”
“Uh. Yeah, I did.”
“You stopped using past tense. You’re saying you still don’t enjoy things.” Genos looked at him, eyes wide and – shining? Could they shine? Maybe it was the circuits behind them or something. Either way, it made Saitama falter. For some reason.
“I… guess.”
“I’ll become stronger!” Genos declared. Saitama winced at the volume.
“That’s great, man. Can you let go now? I’m kind of sitting on you.”
“I’ll become a worthy opponent of sensei,” he said. Saitama looked at him, kind of uncomfortable under his determined gaze. “I’ll ensure you face a challenge again, and then you can enjoy being a hero. Until then, I’ll at least try to cook things you enjoy.”
“You really don’t have to…” he muttered, rubbing his arm and half-heartedly trying to tug his wrist free. Ah, whatever.
“No. But I want to. Because I enjoy being sensei’s student, and fighting by your side.” He paused here, thinking about something. “And I enjoy living with sensei.”
Saitama blinked and looked down, coughing. “Ah, that’s good, Genos. So, anyway…”
Genos leaned down to catch Saitama’s eyes, pausing when he saw how flushed his ears were. Was he… embarrassed?
He’d seen him naked when they’d first met. He didn’t think Saitama got embarrassed.
Somehow, it made him smile.
“Sensei, until the heating works again, you can use me.” He tugged him closer. Saitama’s shoulders hitched a little.
“Oh man, please just let me up.”
If he really wanted to, he easily could, so Genos let him keep up the pretence of struggling while he increased his temperature. After a while, Saitama gave up squirming, and Genos glanced down. His head was leaning against Genos’s shoulder, and he was asleep.
Genos smiled.
By next week, the cactus had bloomed again.