Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

His nose was bleeding.

Shit, Genos thought, wiping the dripping blood with the back of his bruised hand before it reached his lips. As he extended his arm, the ache in his side became more pronounced. But a broken rib was the least of his worries now, to be honest.

He was strong enough to beat two 20-year-olds, but five might be a bit too much for him. He knew that cowards retreat from a fight – but he did not foresee that cowards retreat and bring back-ups. Then again, he might win over five, but in seeing thick baseball bats clasped in their fists, his chances were slim. He let his guard down again.

Victory was getting farther and farther from his grasp.

“What’s the matter, golden boy? Not as easy as acing nerd tests, huh?” One of his opponents muttered, clearly someone from his school.

“Easier than bullying 3^rd graders, I bet,” Genos retorted.

It was a fine, regular day. Until he heard screams of pleading from a dimly-lit alley on his way home from school. As much as he wanted to finish his calculus homework due tomorrow right away, the choice was a no-brainer. It could wait. It’s not every day that he gets to fight for helpless children from thugs and bullies.

Judging from the number of blooming pain in different parts of his body, Genos’ techniques in judo were, admittedly, getting a little bit rusty. Now, he couldn’t even manage to dodge a measly elbow strike.

“Learned your lesson yet? Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, kid.”

“Watch me.”

“This one got some sass on him, Boss. I wonder if he’ll shut up once I cut his tongue,” cheered the man on the farthest left, flipping a sharp, gleaming object from his pocket. Knife? They brought knives, too?

Genos forced his eyes open, not minding how his vision was turning into a blur as blood from a cut near his left eyebrow continued to flow. It was just his luck that the alley was narrow, preventing a multiple attack from his enemies. Instead, they came to him one by one, screaming as they wave their bats in the air.

The man holding the knife appeared to be the bravest of them all – dashing blindly towards Genos as if he wouldn’t be able to dodge the slow move. True, he was outnumbered, but they were too slow.

Genos swung his body towards the left wall to evade the attack, but as he did so, a sudden, sharp pain on his side rendered him useless, allowing the guy to slash his arm. Unbalanced and hurt, he slipped and fell to the floor with a loud thud. Great, he thought.

 “Aren’t you my student?”

Saitama didn’t mean to burst it loud as he flipped his direction towards the alley where he thought a loud crash came from.

He had enough of seeing his students loitering around town, but he knew this kid. He was that kind of teacher who forgets names and faces of students after an academic year, but for some odd reason, he remembered this golden-haired kid with those sharp, determined eyes.

Well, Saitama remembered him but certainly without the cut near the kid’s eyes and the blood dripping from his face, mouth, and arms. If he remembered correctly, the kid was always prim and proper, always wearing his pristine uniform sitting in front of the class, the one who would eagerly recite when called—

“Ah. You’re that popular kid, aren’t you? I don’t usually remember, but this girl insisted on being transferred to your class specifically. She clung to me all the way home,” Saitama muttered, crinkling his nose recalling the shrill cries that followed him that afternoon. He would if he could do something about it, really. But he was just an ordinary teacher; it was not like he’s the principal or a part of the school board.

“Go away old man,” Saitama heard a scruff from the darker part of the alley, stopping his eyebrow from twitching. Squinting his eyes, Saitama counted five young people surrounding his bloodied student. They weren’t very respectful, were they? He wasn’t that old.

“Are these your friends?”

“They’re really not, Sensei. Please leave before they hurt you as well,” his student croaked from the ground. That’s respectful for you. The kid attempted to stand, but instead choked and coughed blood as the teenager from the far right slammed a baseball bat on his back.

Now, wait a second.

“Don’t worry, I can handle them myself, Sensei,” the kid groaned. 

“Are you stupid?” Saitama straight up asked, tilting his head in disbelief as he pointed the blood soaking from his usually dirt-free uniform. The kid appeared genuinely surprised and slightly offended as if he was the first ever person to call him stupid.

Sure, he’s slower than average people, and it might take a while for Saitama to put two and two together, but what’s important is that he eventually gets there. These people weren’t his student’s friends and he clearly needed his help.  

And he was itching to give it to him. No, he didn’t have a hero-complex (although he thought about it for quite some time and almost – almost – self-assessed he was bordering one). Saitama simply wanted to use his abilities (be it teaching or fighting) for the benefit of the many with no agenda of seeking any form of recognition.

Savior-complex, then? Saitama pondered, about to delve deeper into his psychological crises when a fellow with a hoodie pounded his sneaker-clad foot hard onto his student’s back.

Right in front of him.

Unbelievable, he thought while stopping himself from doing an eye roll.

“I guess it can’t be helped,” Saitama whispered to no one, swiping a hand on his jet-black hair, cracking his knuckles for effect. He dropped his shopping bag very, very carefully on the ground (he didn’t want his fresh leeks to be stomped upon) and took a deep breath.

He shut his eyes for a fleeting moment. And then it began.

 “Don’t—”

Genos didn’t even get to finish what he was about to say.

Everything happened in a blur. He tried to keep up with the speed of his movements, but his line of sight wasn’t quick enough. Within a second and with just one – one – punch, all his enemies dropped dead. Well, not exactly dead, but he doubted if they could still move by the way their bodies kissed the cold, hard pavement.

Genos’ mouth hang open, staring at his P.E. teacher with wide eyes.

The jolt of surprise hit him, so sudden and glorious, and wow.

The passive, lazy P.E. teacher of his just slayed his opponents like they were toothpicks in mere seconds – without earning a single scratch. This man in front of him was ridiculously strong.

“For the record, 27 is not old,” Saitama remarked, dusting his hands and picking up the supermarket plastic bag he was holding earlier. His deadly eyes turned unnervingly normal after a split second, appearing pleased that his grocery items were left untouched.

“Well, I’ll leave it to you then, kid. Call the cops if they still bother you,” Saitama frowned, seemingly dissatisfied with the fight he gave, sparking Genos’ curiosity.

His teacher trudged to the end of the alley, towards the public street where a sea of people and sunlight was waiting for him, and Genos was there, still sitting frozen on the alley floor, speechless and just looking, and he felt like he was going to miss something really, really great if he remained unmoving—

And then it came before he could even stop himself from doing anything stupid.

“Sensei, please teach me!”

Chapter Text

“Sensei, please teach me!”

Ah, there it was. That nagging thought Saitama had the whole day long.

His day began like any other regular day. Saitama fixed the gym equipment his students disrespectfully left after his class (dumbbells and boxing gloves strewn all over the place again), he wiped the board clean and even dusted the eraser (honestly, he wasn’t even the one who used it, PE teachers don’t write that much), he made it to the sale of his local supermarket and bought the leeks he has been eyeing for days, and was about to head home and watch some anime reruns.

But the clench in his gut told him that something’s about to come his way. More like someone, he dismissed silently in his thoughts.

“Teach you what?” Saitama deadpanned. He was already teaching the kid physical education, right?

“Fighting, Saitama-sensei. You fight great,” his student exclaimed, not minding the blood running down his face and the gash leaking on his arm.

Fighting? Crap, he was a teacher and teachers shouldn’t get involved in fights. In his defense, he wouldn’t even consider that a fight. He thought that five people with knives and bats stood a chance against him, but in the end, they were all just punching bags – dropping down, one-by-one, as he took his shot. They were too weak for him.

Well, they were regular street thugs. It was not as if they were like him; a fighter and a troublemaker all his life until he settled down to serve for a greater purpose of being a—

“My name is Genos, Sensei,” his student – Genos – interrupted his line of thought, his sharp eyes never leaving his.

“Please call me Genos. Well, that’s if you would allow me to be your disciple. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Disciple? Just wait a minute. What was this kid talking about? Genos must have hit his head even harder than Saitama thought.

"Look, Genos, as far as I'm concerned, none of that happened, alright?" Saitama exhaled, pointing towards the pile of grunting bodies at the alley floor. "I wasn't here and I didn't help you."

He couldn't have people knowing that he got involved in this kind of situations. His job was on the line and getting sacked was not in his immediate plans. He would still like to afford his modest apartment and his monthly manga subscription, thank you very much.

"Here, let me help you with that."

Standing up proved to be harder than he thought. Genos bit his lip, looking down and away while Saitama hooked a strong arm around his waist. He instinctively rested his wounded arm over his teacher's upper back for support, trudging slowly - away from the alley and towards the pavement full of people. 

God, he was useless.

"How did you even get into that mess, anyways? Fighting five people at once? You know, you're still in high school."

"My apologies, Sensei. I know I need to be stronger."

Apparently, being a black belter in Judo was not enough. I never learn. 

"You need to stop picking fights," Saitama retorted. 

"I wasn't trying to pick fights, Sensei. I simply cannot tolerate bullying. I was walking along when I saw them take some children's money. I know I just couldn't stand there and do nothing. I didn't hesitate. But I wasn't strong enough. More than protecting myself, I want to be stronger to protect innocent people and the people I love."

They sat on the nearest bench, Genos slightly embarrassed with the way he just spilled his sentiments that easily, but it was alright. He didn't want Saitama to get a wrong impression of him. 

"You're a good kid," Saitama whispered so silently that Genos almost thought he was imagining it until his teacher gave a serene smile towards his direction. Before he could stop it, Genos' heart skipped a beat. 

"I-I never had the chance to do it properly, but thank you, Saitama-sensei, for saving me back there. I'm glad you came and fought for me," he stammered, trying his best not to choke his words to extend his sincerity, because yes, this was a tiny bit embarrassing. It was not every day that he gets rescued, more so by his school teacher. 

"Man, this is embarrassing," Saitama chuckled, wiping his eyes and patting Genos' back. "How can you pull that with a straight face? Are you a robot?" As if on cue, Genos face turned beet red. 

"I'm kidding. Don't mention it, kid."

"Should I drop you to a clinic? I know of a place a few block down," Saitama offered after a few minutes of rest. The kid was already smiling but the blood from the cut in his arm had not stopped from flowing yet. Bruises from his face also needed some cleaning up.  

"Oh no. I don't want to cause you any more trouble, Sensei," Genos beamed, wiping the blood streaking from his eyebrows, breath hitching because of the sting. "I already texted someone to pick me up."

Girlfriend, then?

Ah. To be young and in love...

Saitama mentally sighed, his thoughts drifting to growing old and alone. Growing old and alone was not the problem (truly it wasn't), it was being completely okay with it. He was not like this before - when he was in his youth, he dreamed of finding someone to spend the rest of his life with, but now? Not so much. He was slowly looking forward to meals by himself, seeing movies by himself, grocery shopping by himself-

Ah. His shopping bag.

"Ah! My grocery!" Saitama shrieked, remembering the hassle of competing with passionate mothers in grabbing the freshest leeks on sale and the long, long line for the take-out counter. Now, he had to wait for another two weeks before it goes sale again. 

"You must have left it in the alley. Let me fetch it for you, Sensei," Genos decided, trying to stand up from where he was sitting. Saitama grabbed his shoulder to pull him down as fast as he could. 

"You really are stupid, aren't you?" His grieving for his vegetables quickly forgotten and replaced by utter disbelief while looking at his student. It's confirmed, this one hit his head too hard. Genos appeared to be insulted, almost ready to reply, but his answer was cut short when someone from the road yelled. 

"Please get in the car, Bocchan. I will treat your wounds immediately," an old man with a weird mushroom-like hair wearing a tux and a pair of white gloves gestured to a sleek, black car. 

Bocchan? 

"Dr. Kuseno. Thank you. I will be there shortly," Genos greeted. "Thank you again for today, Sensei. I look forward to seeing you in tomorrow at class," his student bowed and then limped towards the car, gracing a small smile while waving a hand from the passenger seat, as the car drove away. 

Ah. He's filthy rich.

No girlfriend, then?

"Keep still, Bocchan," Dr. Kuseno, their family friend and butler, told him, aiming to dab a disinfectant-soaked cotton at the cut above his eyebrows. The gash in his arm was already patched up, thanks to the doctor's impeccable skills. 

"Your parents won't be pleased when they hear about this," he continued in a grave tone. Genos could already imagine the lecture waiting for him as soon as his parents knew what happened today, and it wasn't a pleasant thought. 

"I'll deal with it when the time comes. I trust you won't tell them, doctor?"

"Oh, I won't. But they're already waiting for you at home," Dr. Kuseno chuckled. 

Damn. 

The least he could do to his parents was to disappoint them. They have been working real hard for him (going back and forth to make business deals) and the only way he could repay their love and affection was to be the best he could be. Acing exams and being the top of the class, yes, but getting into a fight? Not really. 

This was an all time low. 

"Can we take a detour?" Genos said just loud enough for the driver in front could hear his request. 

"Are you planning on escaping, Bocchan?"

"No. I just have somewhere else to go." 

"Where to?"

"The local supermarket."

When Dr. Kuseno asked what for, Genos simply smiled.