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Saitama became slowly more aware of his surroundings, hearing the dull drone of the television and detecting the faint smell of his breakfast sitting on the table. He didn't remember getting up this morning, but it didn't really matter. Or maybe it should, but he just couldn’t muster the energy. His eyelids felt so heavy, his vision was hazy around the edges. He realized his head was resting on a hard surface as his body was hunched over to the full extent that he was capable. He finally straightened up, hearing a few cracks along his spine. How long had he been sitting like that?
He glanced over to the illuminated flat screen to his right, seeing the usual newswoman reporting on who knows what sitting at a stark white counter with her papers. A smaller image to her side was showing something related to whatever she was talking about. It was so strange. Did he flip to the wrong channel? Why couldn't he understand her? ‘Eh, I must be really tired then,’ Saitama mused to himself.
The enticing aroma finally got to him, so he grabbed a utensil and made to take a small bite of food when he spotted the empty plate across the table. Was someone else here? He didn't remember having anyone over. If he had to guess, it was probably Genos. He just couldn't seem to keep the cyborg out of his apartment despite the guy not living here. For crying out loud, Genos had cut a flap between their rooms just to snoop on his everyday activities. He didn't even do anything different than when they did live together!
Saitama felt a sudden sharp pain in his forehead, the clatter of his dropped utensil only amplifying its ferocity. He rubbed at the sore spot, wondering what brought that on. It subsided as quickly as it arrived, leaving only a faint echo of discomfort in its place. Since it was still so early, the most likely candidate was dehydration. He reached for his half empty cup, having since abandoned his meal, but a sound made him hesitate. He just couldn’t seem to get anything done this morning.
There was a strange buzzing in the kitchen. A repeated pattern of something vibrating. Something small. Like a cellphone. It stopped and instead was replaced with muffled speech. It had the same effect as the woman on tv. Was his hearing going? When was the last time he'd been to a doctor? Regardless of its comprehensibility, the voice was still recognizable. He was right, Genos was here. He felt a little relieved not to be alone when so many things were going so horribly.
After just a moment, the familiar spiky blond mop of hair poked around the corner of the kitchen, the rest of him joining quickly. Genos flipped the phone in his hand closed and gave just a quick glance at the news report happening behind his teacher. He gave a short grimace before refocusing his attention.
“Sensei, I have been called in to assist with a monster. The Hero Association seems adamant that with my help, we will be able to successfully bring it down,” Genos reported with his normal level of serious determination. Saitama’s bored expression never faltered as he gave a small wave to indicate to his student to get going.
“Alright, be safe,” Saitama called out as Genos threw on his shoes and quickly exited through the front door. Saitama looked back down to his now cold food, a strange sick feeling rising in his throat. Between his gut and his head, he was seriously starting to get worried that something was truly wrong. He figured he’d just relax for the rest of the day to give himself a break. Maybe he read too much in a weird position yesterday, or played too many video games, but the issue was… he didn’t remember.
What… did he even do yesterday? What day was it today? Try as he might, Saitama just couldn't recall. It was akin to the feeling of a word on the tip of your tongue, a smell you just can't seem to place, a familiar taste but you don't know from what. It felt like he was floating in a room full of invisible cotton, as if sound had to travel ten thousand miles before it reached his ears. The very air was heavy and oppressive. He was drowning.
He returned his attention to the television. The reporter was speaking about something that seemed important if her face was anything to go by, but Saitama was finding it hard to care. He gave a big yawn, feeling his jaw click from the exertion, before rubbing his eyes. He really wanted to go back to sleep. Even though he had just gotten up, maybe he’d just woken up too early. Nothing wrong with a morning nap, he’d had plenty of them before. He stared at the tv for a little longer, hearing the woman say something along the lines of “giant monster” as he finally succumbed to the temptation to lay back down.
He jumped when he heard the rhythmic hum of vibration. It didn’t last long, so he wondered if it was a hallucination. What couldn’t be so easily ignored were the footsteps making their way toward him. He looked up, and there was Genos, staring down at him with his glowing yellow eyes. He was always so unintentionally intense. It made him really cool.
“Sensei, I just received a call from the Hero Association regarding a monster. I am heading to the scene now, please feel free to stay here and finish your meal. I’m confident I can take care of it,” Genos said with a slight tone of agitation. Saitama stared, confused.
“Didn’t… didn’t you just leave?” He sat up, leaning over to look at the door before looking back at the cyborg.
“I have been here all morning, sensei. I only just now received the call,” Genos looked alarmed, and Saitama didn’t blame him. He just shook his head and patted his cheeks as a type of wake-up method.
“Ah, I guess I’m more tired than I thought. Good luck!” Saitama called out to reassure his student that he was fine. Genos bowed graciously, slipped on his shoes, and left. Saitama felt a tightness in his chest. Maybe he had heartburn or something. Could it be possible he’d caught a cold? When was the last time he was actually sick? He couldn’t remember, but he knew that headaches and stuffy noses were involved, maybe that’s why his hearing was so messed up. Or he had a big ball of earwax stuck in there. He dug his finger in and wiggled, but when it retreated it was clean.
The television was still murmuring, the same woman still present. She wasn’t usually here for this long, normally they would switch to either a guest or a different reporter or even on-the-scene guys. Something to break up the monotony. Where was the remote anyway? Had he tossed it somewhere? As Saitama looked around, patting under his butt and legs to check he wasn’t sitting on it, he caught a few words. “Giant humanoid monster” came from the newswoman again, in the same tone and urgency as before. She was repeating herself. He refocused on her now, his task abandoned.
“It’s reported to- … rampage-… has no-…” Her words changed in frequency, as if she spoke in slow motion. Saitama felt his head pound as the room contorted around him. The walls flattened, stretching out farther than the horizon as the ceiling rounded above him, billowing upward at a rapid pace. The floor was disappearing, curving downward into an abyss, the texture of the grain flowing like water down a turbulent stream. He couldn’t breathe. All the air in the room was gone. His lungs ignited.
There was a hum in the other room, a sharp buzzing that repeated over and over. Saitama looked to the kitchen window, exactly where it should be. The room around him was as familiar as the back of his hand. The sun cast an impression of the patio doorway across the flat wood floor. The sound stopped, replaced by muttering. The world was falling away again. Genos entered the room.
“Sensei, I-“
“Why are you still here?” Saitama interrupted. He wasn’t angry, per se, more overwhelmed. Nothing felt real.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. I only just received a call regarding a monster, but I had nothing else scheduled,” Genos seemed panicked, which just made Saitama feel worse. “If you would like me to not come back after-“
“No!” Saitama felt every cell in his body clench, his muscles spasming from the strain. If anything had been in his hand, it would’ve been atoms by now. “No, I just… you should get going already.” He pressed on his chest to calm his pounding heart. His brows were furrowed hard, spreading deep creases through his skin. He focused on the floor, the unmoving grain of each floorboard. There were no retreating steps as Genos hadn’t moved. Saitama met his gaze, a strange expression on the cyborg’s face that he couldn’t place. Was it anger? Concern? Pity?
He wouldn’t get an answer as Genos turned, slipped on his shoes, and walked out of the apartment.
Saitama let out a sigh, his body slumping further down. If only he could liquify and seep into the ground, escape this off-kilter morning and every perturbed thought that passed through him. He still hadn’t eaten anything; his breakfast having lost the gentle rising steam from being freshly made. He scooped a reasonable portion of eggs and took a bite. This would fix what was going on. He was hungry. He was deliriously hungry.
It tasted of nothing.
He chewed slower, letting the glob roll in his mouth. Whoever cooked this did a terrible job. Did he cook this? There was no way this was Genos’s doing; the man knew how to make a delicious meal. He… had he ever told him that? He was sure he’d complimented Genos’s cooking before, but this just made him want to worship it instead. He’d be sure to let the serious cyborg know when he got back from that monster attack how much he appreciated his cooking. And cleaning. And everything he’d ever done for him.
There was a familiar buzzing in the kitchen. Saitama felt his blood run cold.
He remained frozen until Genos walked into the room, clearly irritated. “Sensei, it seems there is a rather annoying monster that I have been called to deal with. Please allow me to go dispatch it quickly and I will return before the sale this afternoon,” he announced. Saitama could feel his eyes growing heavy. Was this déjà vu? He’d never experienced it before. It was official. He was definitely sick with something.
“Could you grab some medicine or something while you’re out?” Saitama laid his head back on the table, mimicking his position from when he first woke up. Or at least, when he remembered waking up. Was that the first time? Did that even happen?
“Of course! I will get a variety of medications for you immediately!” Genos rushed towards the door, slipping his shoes on with all the haste he could manage.
“Hey! Monster first!” Saitama called out, getting an immediate response of confirmation. The door shut loudly behind him.
Saitama stayed planted on that table, bringing his arms up to wrap around his head. He would just close his eyes for a moment; he needed the rest after all. He was tired and sick. A haze descended on him, the hum of the news report fading in and out. Not a single comprehensible word, but it didn’t matter. The volume was low enough to double as just white noise. A welcome distraction to his increasingly anxious thoughts. He felt like throwing up. The only thing keeping him from his deep slumber now was that annoying jerk a body would do on the edge of sleep, much akin to almost falling.
He could hear the telltale sound of a buzzing phone. It was probably his, maybe Genos was asking what kind of medicine to get. He hadn’t really specified which was a foolish thing to do. He was actually a little shocked that his student would call instead of just buying one of everything on the shelf. Perhaps he was finally learning to save money properly.
He lifted his head, but the vibrations stopped. His phone wasn’t anywhere near him. He searched around fruitlessly. Perhaps it was still next to his bed? Or on his shelf with his manga? He turned to look.
“Sensei, I-“
“Gah!” Saitama jumped in alarm, not expecting to hear another voice. He twisted back around to see Genos staring back at him with a mixture of guilt and confusion. The pounding in his head started up again, far worse than before. He squinted from the pain, clutching his forehead in agony. Before Genos could even speak, Saitama interjected. “Dude! What are you doing here? Did you bring medicine?”
“What medicine?” Genos tilted his head to the side.
“The fucking medicine! I asked you to get some before you got back! Just do something right for once!” Saitama shouted. The words burned like venom as they dripped from his mouth. He wasn’t sure where that came from. Had it been so long since he felt pain that he didn’t know how to handle it? He needed to apologize.
“I’m sorry you think so lowly of me, but you never asked me for medicine. I do not appreciate being spoken to like that,” Genos growled back. Saitama grit his teeth, knowing he should correct himself, say he didn’t mean it, say that Genos was right.
“When you come back from fighting something without missing an arm, I’ll speak to you with some fucking respect,” Saitama nearly spat out. Why was he saying this? He didn’t think this at all? What was happening?
“I was called to deal with a threat. I shall get some medicine while I am gone. Please rest until then,” Genos was cold. When he was angry, he would always get animated, heated, engaged. This was different. He sounded done, and Saitama deserved it. The bald man watched as Genos slipped on his shoes and passed through the door. He continued to stare at the door blankly.
An eternity passed by in an instant. Wind and rain eroded away stone into grains of sand that blew across a barren desert. A winding river carved into the crust until magnificent gorges exposed the lifespan of the planet. Continental plates shifted, either sinking back into the mantle or rising to form new mountain ranges that soared into the sky. Stars in the distance exploded into supernovae that lit up the heavens for months before dwindling into nothing, sending new material across the endless void. Galaxies flicked to life and then faded into the darkness of a slowly expanding universe. The last black hole’s radiation fizzled out to nothing.
Saitama was sitting on the floor of his main room, the television droning beside him. He heard something vibrate in the kitchen. It stopped and was replaced by the mumbling of a low but familiar voice. His student entered the room.
“Sensei, I have been called by the Hero Association to deal with a monster. Please stay here and allow me to deal with it, I’m confident in my ability to dispatch it quickly,” Genos reported with an air of self-assuredness. Saitama just slowly turned his attention from the door to his student, giving a silent nod. Genos slipped on his shoes and left through that same door.
Saitama said nothing, but a thousand words lay trapped behind his lips.
Using every ounce of effort he has left, he turned to face the television. The same newswoman still sat at her white desk with her sheets of paper stacked neatly between her hands. Her mouth was moving, making sounds that Saitama couldn’t understand. Perhaps if he stared long enough, he’d get it. He wasn’t sure if he could read lips, but now was the ideal time to learn. Focus. Just focus.
“…reports of a giant humanoid monster was reported in City…”
Focus.
“…initial on-site witnesses say many heroes have been…”
Focus.
“…they say it has no face…”
He tried to look at the image that appeared beside her, but it made his eyes sting. He rubbed at them furiously, trying to rid himself of the irritation. By the time the sensation subsided, the image was gone. It didn’t matter though; he knew this thing was trouble. He’d figure out where it was based on damage and running people. Besides, if it really was so large it shouldn’t be that hard to find. He really should have just gone with Genos instead.
A buzzing sounded in the kitchen. That explained where his phone was. Saitama tried to get up to fetch it, but his legs refused to move. His body rebelled against the action, keeping him planted in his spot beside the table next to his forgotten breakfast. The empty plates across from his lay long abandoned by its user. The ringing stopped; he wasn’t fast enough to get to it in time. He cursed to himself for being so lazy and not getting up sooner. It was odd though, the call ended sooner than it should have. Maybe they hung up because whoever it was didn’t need him anymore.
Genos rounded the corner, flipping his own phone closed after having just used it.
“Sensei, I have been summoned to deal with a monster. I implore you to stay here and finish your breakfast, I will be joining other S-Class heroes, and we will deal with it together,” Genos informs him, slightly annoyed. Saitama had watched him enter the room but instead turned his attention back to the news report. He couldn’t hear her anymore, but she was still alarmed.
“I should go, too,” Saitama mumbled, placing one hand on the table and the other on the floor beside him to push off, but still his strength escaped him. His wish to liquify was coming true.
“Please, I insist you stay and finish your breakfast. I will be joining five others in order to fight the creature. Tatsumaki is amongst the ranks who has also been called, so this should be over relatively quickly,” Genos argued. It felt odd that he was complimenting the Esper in a strange roundabout way, but after everything that had happened between the two it made sense. Even still, the vile feeling rising in his throat continued to burn deeper into his soul.
“If they’ve called her, then are you really needed? You could just say no,” Saitama supplied feebly.
“I can still be of assistance in a multitude of ways, such as backup for any monster reinforcements or the evacuation of citizens or lower-class heroes. I will not stand idly when my help is needed,” Genos seemed almost upset by the suggestion of staying behind. Saitama couldn’t argue, eventually relenting and waving him away. With the granted permission, Genos slipped on his shoes and left through the front door.
Saitama may not be the most observant person out there, but even he knew this was far beyond déjà vu at this point. He wasn’t sick, he wasn’t misremembering. He looked down to the plate of food in front of him, watching the last of the steam rise from the slowly cooling meal. Not a single bite was missing from it.
He knows he’s hungry, but the food isn’t appetizing. He poked at it with his finger but just grimaced in disgust. No, hunger wasn’t correct. He felt empty. If he could be torn open right now, there would be nothing below his skin. His muscles had been stripped from him, keeping him locked in this prison. He waited in silence, listening to the dull hum of an unintelligible female voice to his right.
There, in the kitchen. Two and a half rings from a cellphone before it would be answered. The drone of his voice, but no words to match. In ten seconds, he would walk around the corner to stare into Saitama’s being with those glowing golden eyes once again.
“Sensei, there seems to be a monster that is proving difficult to handle. Myself and a few other S-Class heroes have been summoned to deal with it. I’m confident that we will be able to handle it.”
“Stay here,” Saitama said. Genos seemed startled by the request, his eyes narrowed in disbelief.
“I cannot do that. There may still be civilians in the area or other heroes that need rescuing. I will leave to help,” Genos responded with finality. Saitama just huffed lowly while attempting one more time to stand, but his hand slips out from under him. Genos took one step forward in alarm but does not commit to any more. “Please stay here, sensei. Your breakfast is untouched, and I am concerned you’re not feeling well. I will return quickly once the threat has been eliminated,” Genos announced in a flurry as he hurriedly put on his shoes and slipped out the front door.
Saitama will wait. He’ll try again. One more time.
Two and a half rings. Ten seconds of mumbling. Three heavy footsteps.
“Sensei, I-“
“Stay,” Saitama didn’t even let him finish. He already knew what his student would say. He didn’t want to hear it again. This… this prison, this endless nightmare needed to be broken. The one thing that always happened was Genos leaving. He just needed him to stay, then he could move on with his life. They could go to the next sale and get groceries and make a nice meal. Nicer than this disgusting breakfast that was still steaming in front of him.
Why this moment was so important, though, Saitama had no idea. It didn’t particularly matter, he just wanted the pounding in his head to stop. He wanted to leave and go play video games, get the next copy of manga, anything other than just sit here and listen to this same bland woman read off the same boring news story in her drab professional outfit in the sterile newsroom.
“I cannot do that, my help is needed,” Genos stated cleanly. His shortest argument yet.
“You won’t help,” Saitama countered. He couldn’t look his student in the eyes. It was painful to say, but he’d do anything to break this cycle. Genos would forgive him later.
“How do you know that?”
“You always end up wrecked or damaged or something. Giving other people trouble. Just stay here and let the others take care of it for once.”
“…You think I’m worthless,” Genos’s words sounded hollow. Saitama could feel the pain, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t even sure if Genos would remember this. Was Genos even real? He hadn’t considered it, but yet again it didn’t matter. Escape was all that mattered.
“No, I’m just saying that-“
“I don’t care. I will do everything in my power to assist those in need. If the heroes run and hide, who will stay and fight?” Genos turned, slipped on his shoes, and left. Saitama sat still on the floor, his own words in Genos’s voice echoing through his shallow mind. This would be far more difficult than he imagined, and it was his own fault.
Why did Genos have to worship every word he said? Why did he need to have such overbearing convictions? Why did he always need to be so aggravating? Saitama clenched his fist and brought it down on the table. His plate of food went flying, but it came down straight back to where it once was. Not a crumb out of place. Only more proof of this strange unreality he’d found himself in. None of this was real, so he could take more drastic measures.
He had limited time, so he’d need to work fast. He clenched all the muscles in each leg one by one, assuring himself they still worked. He rolled onto his knees to stand, but there was the resistance again. He just needed to fight it. He was incredibly strong, after all. Surely some of that strength translated into this place. He just needed to get up and get that damn phone. Why couldn’t he get up? Why was everything so difficult?
The phone in the other room rang. Saitama called out to ignore it, but his own voice was the one muffled now. He choked as the room began to spin and his legs gave out again. He was back onto the floor, now clutching his throat and breathing heavily. The world was taking revenge against him for his blatant disregard of its rules. Fine, he would just need to do something else instead. Two can play at this game.
“Sensei, I have been notified of a monster attack. I will be leaving to go deal with it, I will be back shortly,” Genos announced with mild indifference.
“Hey, uh… Did you get a new shirt? I don’t think I’ve seen that one,” Saitama asked a little shakily, his voice still a little hoarse. He couldn’t reveal that anything was amiss.
“I have worn this shirt a few times before, so it is not new. However, it has been some time since I have last worn it,” Genos supplied, his face giving no indication that he detected Saitama’s intentions.
“Oh. Uh… sorry, I must’ve forgotten. It’s cool. Where did you get it? Maybe we can go shopping soon, I could use some new shirts,” Saitama could feel sweat forming on his head. The room was growing hotter.
“Of course! Please allow me to show you the various stores I enjoy browsing! I am sure anything you select will fit you well! I have a multitude of ideas regarding upgrading your wardrobe to fit current fashion trends, we can begin compiling image boards to better narrow down a specific look that would be both pleasing and diverse in order to maximize each clothing piece usage to save money. I will fetch my laptop once I have dealt with the monster attack, please remain here until then!” Genos rambled with all the excitement of a child in a candy shop, but the last sentence threw Saitama’s plan out the window.
“Wait!” Saitama reached for the retreating cyborg, but he was already out the door. The boiling room plummeted to chilling ice. Why couldn’t he do this? What was he doing wrong? Was he really trapped here forever?
He turned back to the damn television, the same newswoman going on and on about the same topic spoken with practiced professionalism. She still hadn’t moved from her spot, her hands clasped together in front of her on the same small stack of papers. He looked away, his eyes unfocused on something in the vicinity, but none of it mattered. He needed to think of a new plan. Something. Anything.
“You should have gone with him.”
Startled, he returned his focus to her. That was definitely her voice, wasn’t it? It didn’t sound right, it was too low, too… accusatory. She continued on unresponsive to any outside stimuli, which made sense since she was in some distant building in a city far away. Her mouth was moving, but the words never reached his ears. This damn television was the weirdest part of all this. Maybe this thing was the problem. Maybe it wasn’t him or Genos or the breakfast, it was this finnicky piece of technology instead. Didn’t mean he couldn’t try two methods at once.
He searched everywhere around him for that elusive remote, knowing his time was limited. He needed to turn the thing off before Genos got here. The two and a half vibrations sounded from the kitchen. Where was it? Did he throw it out the window or something? The murmuring stopped, and the footsteps started. His heart skipped a beat as he spotted the tiny black rectangle under the television stand, stretching his body out to snatch it up in a flash. As Genos rounded the corner, Saitama pressed furiously at the power button. It wasn’t responding.
“Sensei, I have been called regarding a monster attack. While other S-Class have been notified, I will still go to assist in any way that I can. I will return once the threat is dealt with,” Genos announced with an almost tired voice. Saitama looked at him for only a moment before stretching himself as far as he could reach and throwing his hands across the screen to block as much of it as possible. His plan was already falling apart.
“Well, the news lady just said it was killed so turns out you don’t have to go. You can just stay here and do whatever you want. Everything is fine,” Saitama rambled quickly, hoping Genos couldn’t tell how panicked he was. He would find he wasn’t so lucky as the cyborg stared at him with slight suspicion, his eyes narrowing a fraction more than usual.
“I am unsure if you are joking, but the apparent damage this monster has already caused is no laughing matter. Regardless of whether it has been defeated, I will still respond to the call. I will return shortly.” Genos gave a slight bow, slipped on his shoes, and left through the front door. Saitama retracted to his original position, sitting lazily at the small table with his untouched breakfast in front of him. He glared at the small device in his hand, cursing it and every one of its kind for failing him at such a moment. He pressed the small power button a few more times, but still the television did not respond.
This didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. His breakfast tasted of nothing and came back after he ate it, the newswoman spoke of the same thing over and over, Genos kept reappearing in his kitchen, and he couldn’t move from this spot. What was he supposed to do about it? He was completely out of ideas now, nothing he had done had prevented anything from changing. Everything was fighting against him for some reason. What could he have possibly done to get into this mess? What was he doing wrong?
“That’s not how it went.”
He turned slowly to look at the television once again with unrepressed anger. The newswoman continued her dialog, but slowly… she stopped. She stared back at him, her dark brown eyes boring into the fabric of his identity. She leaned forward on the desk, her shoulders rising as her position changed. She was getting just a little closer to the camera.
“Sensei-“
“Guh!” For a second time, Saitama jumped from the intrusion, this time startled from his trance. Genos reached out a hand as if to calm his distressed teacher, but his fingers folded up quickly and the hand retreated. Saitama wished he wouldn’t.
“My apologies for startling you. I just received a call regarding a monster attack so I shall leave and quickly deal with it. I shall return shortly.”
Saitama continued to gaze at him a moment longer than was acceptable but gave his usual wave and a typical “be safe” message as his student left through that solid front door once again. He needed Genos gone for a moment to think. There was something that had been bothering him this whole time, something he was only just now beginning to realize. He was so focused on the big picture that he was ignoring the details.
Every time Genos walked in the room, he said something different. Most times he just said there was a monster, but other times he mentioned other heroes being there. And even his tone was changing. He’d be angry, or frustrated, or tired, or annoyed. It wasn’t consistent. If this truly was a weird time loop he was in, why was that not exactly the same? Granted, he could at least account for the two times that Genos scared him on why he reacted differently. Was it really down to just the way he was facing when Genos entered the room? He’d do just one more test. It’s not like he didn’t have time.
Two and a half rings, then the mumbling. Everything is going smoothly so far. He was facing the television this last time, so he’d face forward this time. Sure enough, Genos entered right on cue.
“Sensei, I have been informed of a monster attack in a city nearby. Though other heroes have also been called to the scene, I am confident that we will be able to handle it. Please stay here and enjoy your breakfast and I will return shortly,” Genos announced with a quick bow, giving a quick “excuse me” while turning to leave. Saitama heard the door shut just moments later, feeling a slight sinking feeling in his gut. That was a new one. He’d faced Genos like this before but never got that exact response. The guy didn’t even wait for acknowledgement like he normally does, he just left. Just like that.
Saitama wasn’t sure how many more times he could stomach this. He felt exhausted, his head lulled to the side as the gravity of the room and his situation compounded exponentially on his shoulders. What was he meant to do? Was this really his life now? This, just over and over and over again? If this was meant to be a dream, then it was one hell of a nightmare. One like he’d never had before.
His ears were ringing, screaming a high-pitched note deep into his brain. He only really heard that when it got quiet, something he hadn’t heard yet because the constant muffled sound of the news segment drowned it out. Which meant the newswoman hadn’t started talking again. He turned back to face her, and sure enough she was still staring at him. It was strangely compelling to focus only on the backlit screen beside him. Everything else in the world seemed to disappear. It was an escape, in a way. Perhaps this was his way out.
“-Sensei?” The world snapped back around him, coming into focus like a camera adjusting its focal length. He twisted around to face his student who stared back in quiet apprehension. It was a marvel that such a mechanical face could appear so human. Everyone always said Genos was scary, or stoic, or just angry. But Saitama knew better. He saw all the little emotions that etched themselves on that faux skin. He knew what it felt like. He also knew quite well what lay underneath. He always hoped the day would come when he’d no longer see that.
He felt bile rise in his throat. He retched once, gripping hard onto his chest. He heard Genos call out to him, but the sound was coming from behind several walls. His heart pounded hard enough to break his ribs. His muscles clenched tight enough to shatter his limbs. He was crumbling apart as he sat there, folding in ways that shouldn’t be possible. He was compressed into a singularity. He ceased to exist.
“Sensei! I will returned quickly with medicine for you as soon as the monster threat has been dealt with! Please hold on until then!” Genos shouted in alarm, dashing from the room and leaving his teacher alone. Saitama took a few ragged breaths, trying to find some sort of center. Now that it was quiet again, he could think. Focus on only the situation, nothing else. He unfurled his tightly clenched hands and looked down at them.
They were covered in oil.
He slammed them down on the floor. That wasn’t right. That couldn’t be right. He lifted his hands once again, but they were clean. A few more steadying inhales and exhales, bringing warmth back into his ashen face. A small sound of static came from his right, so he glanced once more at the accursed television. The newswoman was still staring at him, but she was different. Her face was rounder. Her eyes were different. She… was losing her hair. There was no longer a nice reporter in her expensive suit and smooth makeup, it was him. Saitama was now staring at himself. He’d looked at himself plenty of times in the mirror, but the expression wasn’t one he recognized. There was no way that was his face. It was wrong. He had no reason to look like that. Sure, he was stuck in this maddening existence, but why did he look like that?
Why was he so sad?
“That’s not how it went,” the tiny version of him said.
There was a realization buried deep in him that was trying to bore its way to the surface. It was ripping at his organs for attention. He grit his teeth, gripping tightly to his knees to brace against the pain. Something was hammering away at the inside of his skull, sending tremors through his body. No, not yet. He wouldn’t give in yet.
“I can get out of this. I just need to convince him to stay,” Saitama growled. If he could just get his student to stay, he’d break the cycle. If he stayed… he wouldn’t be alone in this place.
“You know that’s not how it went.”
“This is just a damn dream. A stupid dream. I can wake myself up, I can get out of this,” Saitama felt the rhythmic pulse of his heart again. The truth couldn’t be ignored forever.
“You should’ve gone with him.”
“I can fix this!” Saitama punched the screen, but it did not shatter. His fist just remained there, pressed deeply against the smooth surface. He was out of breath again and his eyes were burning. He let his hand fall away, and below it was the newswoman chatting away with alarm just as she normally did. Her insulated voice droned on regarding a monster attack, her hands placed firmly on the table with her crisp white sheets stacked neatly in front of her.
Two and a half buzzes from the kitchen, followed by that deep voice. Genos turned the corner to face him.
“Sensei, I have been called regarding an ongoing monster attack. I am confident I can take care of the situation, so please enjoy your breakfast and I will return shortly.”
Saitama blinked slowly. Did Genos always look like that? He was… so young. Wasn’t he like nineteen or something? Saitama scolded himself for not remembering. This was the man who trusted his life to him, the least he could do was remember the important things.
“I don’t want you to go. Please stay,” Saitama pleaded. He could only hope his ridiculous face could convey exactly how he felt.
“There are people in danger, I cannot ignore that. I will return shortly, I promise,” Genos replied with a softness Saitama didn’t know he was capable of. He didn’t budge as he listened to his student slip on his shoes and leave through the door.
Saitama finally knew what was happening. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult as his beating heart constricted and writhed in his ribcage. He’d never felt this kind of pain before. His years of grueling training, which caused his joints to pop and snap unnaturally, was nothing in comparison. He’d rather go through millennia of that than another second of this. His face tightened, twitching around his mouth and eyes as his nose flared to try to get even a molecule more of air into his system. He knew he could do this one more time, but he didn’t want to.
He wanted to stay here forever.
The vibrations sounded in the kitchen. That voice that always called out to him with utter admiration answered, reminding him of all the useless praise and constant hype that voice would project with a gusto that used to be almost intimidating. The gentle call of a finished dinner through the small kitchen window when they shared an apartment together, the growl at anyone who dared disrespect his esteemed teacher, the stutter he would give when he didn’t want to acknowledge how ridiculous his mentor was being. He’d listen to it as long as he could.
The heavy footsteps denoted his approach. That head of spiky blond hair rounded the corner and those glowing golden eyes laid upon him. Saitama just wanted the world to stop here. He was now okay with that. It was no longer a nightmare. This was an acceptable heaven.
“Sensei, I have been called regarding a monster attack. I will go deal with it quickly and return before the sale this afternoon,” Genos announced.
Millions of words slowly refined over generations of humans all collected behind his closed lips. So many ways to say so many things. How could anyone ever determine what was the most ideal formation to convey what lay so deep within one’s soul? How can anyone reduce down an intricate feeling into something so benign like sounds from a voice box? How do you tell someone something that truly matters?
It didn’t. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. He’d already fucked up. This wasn’t a second chance; this was just a way to make himself feel better. Even still, he’d say it. He’d say the thing he wished he’d said while he still had time. Because despite everything happening around him, that was the one thing he no longer had. He wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t a teacher, and he sure as hell wasn’t a friend. He’d failed in a way he couldn’t recover from. So, this was the one way he could apologize. For everything.
“I’m really glad I met you, Genos.”
Saitama watched the cyborg’s eyes widen more than he’d ever seen before. He spoke rapidly and fervently on all the ways Saitama had improved his life, but the man only half listened. This was the response he believed he’d receive, so the words were vapid. Even still, he’d just listen to that voice a little longer, anything to stretch out this time even a nanosecond into the fake future. He acknowledged Genos’s deep bow and waved him away out the door on to his fate.
“Goodbye,” he called out quietly as the door clicked shut.
He remembered his position now, so he slunk down into his folded spot, resting his elbow on the table with his head in his hand. He took a small bite of his warm eggs and chewed slowly, letting his eyes rest on the television. He heard the distant call of a ringing cellphone but did nothing to acknowledge it. He had to remain resolute. He had to do this right, even if it was wrong.
He heard Genos enter the room but didn’t turn to acknowledge the cyborg. He couldn’t do it again. The muffled voice said something about a monster, but Saitama didn’t properly hear it. He just gave a lax wave and a grunt of confirmation, keeping his eyes steady on the screen. The footsteps retreated, and the door clicked closed.
He hadn’t heard those last words.
He hadn’t seen his face.
Saitama felt himself fall, his tiny apartment disappearing above him. He was falling, and he knew he’d never find solid ground again.
The news cycle flooded with the announcement regarding the defeat of humanity’s greatest foe. The defeated corpse of God would haunt the country for now, but plans for its dismantling were in the works. Many heroes that participated gave their accounts, recalling their plights and struggles to even remain alive from the ordeal. Of course, they also gave their condolences to all those that lost their lives, especially other heroes.
Two people in particular were missing, and no one wanted to bring it up. Any mention of the final blow was met with diverted eyes or clamped lips. While the S-Class may be a ragtag team of misfits, they were still human. The sight they saw that day was not a story to be shared. This was not a victory to be celebrated.
Saitama’s name disappeared from the hero registry.
He wasn’t cut out for this.