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Regression days are hardly pretty.
It's glass shards and wailing, and Genos isn’t even sure what triggered the melt down this time. The fact is this exact scenario has played out before and the cyborg's no closer to figuring out what the tipping point is.
He’s not even sure if there was an outwardly trigger other than the regressor’s own thoughts. Had this started with Saitama regressing? Something that he did wrong? Or was the build up already there, and now being in a younger place mentally had those emotions bubbling up to the surface?
Genos is kneeling on the floor, catching a flying plant out of the air with a quick hand before it can leave yet another dent in the wall. He looks back at his maste-Saitama, he looks back at Saitama, who still doesn’t look anywhere near calm.
There's still the weight of guilt at not knowing how to address the hero. The amount of times he's slipped up and caused another breakdown without meaning begins to blur.
He never means to.
It doesn't change anything.
Pent up emotion and pure grief. It's screaming and crying and asking through a shaking voice, why.
And Genos has no answer for the regressed hero, curled in the corner of the room, hood pulled far over his eyes and nearly hyperventilating.
The cyborg tries to speak, tries to calm the other down, offer comfort, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, anything.
He gets a book thrown at his head for his efforts.
So they sit in silence as he ponders, not for the first time, all the ways he should be better.
But they are both new too this and there are far too many land mines that neither of them came to expect or knew how to avoid. He'll wait it out.
Because eventually Saitama will calm down on his own.
Dull eyes peaking up at him and a whispered apology that Genos doesn't know how to respond to.
They don't talk about what triggers these breakdowns.
Sometimes Genos wishes that they did.
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Sometimes it’s better. Sometimes Genos can claim the title of being an alright caregiver.
The days filled with stuffed toys and mangas. Long winded conversations over nothing in particular. Coloring pages spread across the floor filled in with the messy crayon drawings from the mentally younger hero.
Sushi for lunch served with honey rice drinks poured in spill proof cups. Rented movies they both missed out on watching in their childhoods.
Borrowed cartoons that Saitama gets from King, childish in a way that has Genos questioning whether the S-ranked hero knows about Saitama's regression. The games that certainly aren't the usual level of violence he's seen the two play regularly.
He brushes off said thoughts as quickly as they come, focused back in on a video game that they both are terrible at playing but enjoy none the less.
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Saitama doesn't regress often, the good days happen even less than that.
It's sometimes hard for Genos to even tell. More likely they start with turned down assignments. Saitama wearing an oversized sweatshirt, hood pulled over his eyes, holding out his phone as a caller id lights up the screen.
"Don't want to..."
Genos doesn't have to be told more to take the phone. "Do you want to watch something?" He asks, more in the way of getting Saitama out of the room. The phone feels like it is burning in his palm.
The regressor nods, takes the excuse to leave despite them both knowing that the tv will not be turned on.
Despite knowing Saitama could defeat any monster, Genos knows equally the prying eyes of the hero commission. Tasks that are really hidden tests. Set up to judge the 'rookie' hero. To prove himself once more to a crowd that will only mock, and a system that is set up to drown it's best players.
He might doubt his abilities of a caregiver, but Genos is not stupid enough to let a mentally four year old out on the battle field, no matter how confident or capably his master is usually.
Genos doesn't want to make excuses. He's tired of it.
"Send someone else." Is all he has to say before the cyborg is getting an ear full.
About the selfishness, as though Saitama, no, as though any of their main heroes haven't given up so much of their own lives for a daily fight that is increasing and never ending.
Sharp words at arrogant people who could never, and will never understand.
Overheard conversations, followed by seemingly endless tears and promises to be better that Genos quickly has to put an end too.
Genos wishes Saitama wouldn't listen, can't do anything to stop him either.
They spend the rest of the morning playing a board game, pointedly ignoring anything that has to do with the tv or the news.
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It’s hiding secrets and making up excuses, only for Saitama to grow clingy and expose himself without truly meaning too.
Because Saitama has grown close to those around him, whether he sees it himself or not. The apartment seems to be a regular spot for visitors. From friends stopping by, or heroes trying to make sure he's alright in the wake of his repeated absence.
Genos will have to admit that despite the progress being made, Saitama chooses the worst possible times to cling to his side.
He can barely get to the door, Saitama whining about being left alone, even though normally he swears Genos to never open the door while carrying him.
He's taken to hiding behind his caregiver instead, hand firmly gripping onto Geno's sleeve and grumbling incoherently. Still not the best, it will definitely raise warning bells but Genos can deal with those. Probably.
He opens the door to find Bang stopping by with food after hearing the prodigy hero was 'sick'. The excuse the hero association came up with it seems.
He's probably expecting to find Saitama pale and under the weather. Only instead to be greeted with a very stressed Genos and a non-verbal Saitama clinging to his side.
A muddled "Don’ wan’ vis'tors," being the only words the regressor has spoken in hours, said just loud enough that Genos is sure that the elder hero heard.
All of which are painting a pretty clear picture of his mental state without any needed explanation which is, maybe, a good thing as Genos brain is blanking.
“Ah. I see.” The older hero will say with a knowing look.
Genos doesn’t think he does.
"It's just soup, I'll bring something more fitting next time."
Confused, Genos takes the offered food none the less, with a small bow and a promise to let someone know if he needs help.
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It becomes a pattern after that.
Childish bentos and homemade rice balls being delivered by Bang. A little stuffed bear who gets an honorary spot on the manga shelf to sit whenever Saitama isn't clinging to it.
At this point Genos wouldn't put it past the S-rank hero if he did know what age regression was. There are a hundred better, more likely reasons.
Maybe it's a way to get them to warm up to the idea of joining his dojo. Maybe it's like a grandparent giving their grandson a present and silently checking in on them.
The final nail in the coffin when he calls them both his 'problem children' post battle field that leaves Saitama stumbling mid run and Genos flustered because why was he involved in that statement?
Nope, Bang couldn't possibly know. Clearly, he's just going senile in his old age. Clearly.
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He finds it to be another trigger when the bear Bang gifted gets a small rip in it's leg. Watching his master grow quiet and small within minutes.
Sewing skills Genos never knew he needed coming into practical use and feeling stupid once more as he fails at being a caregiver again. He asks the obviously very stupid question if they could get a replacement. Safe to say he spent an hour trying to convince the regressor that, no he wasn't going to throw out his bear, he just needed to calm down and let him look at it.
Calling in on favors, because, who knew the hero Blizzard knew how to sew? Neither of them clearly.
"Does he have a name, you're little friend?" Fubuki asks, threading a small needle with cream colored thread.
Small talk that doesn't really work because Saitama hardly ever says anything small. Though he does shake his head at her question. It's distracting enough while she works.
The stuffed animal mended with meticulously placed stitches.
"He's very precious to you, huh?" And Saitama will nod, holding the bear tightly.
"Any time kiddo, I'm glad I could help."
"I- you, umm... thanks..."
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Regression days are trial and error, effort put in for both the sweet and rough times
But for the good moments, Genos wouldn’t trade it for the world.