Chapter Text
“In the heat of the battle, heroes emerge. Sometimes even from the most unlikely of sources.” -Brian Herbert
‘It’s been 4 years, since I first decided on being a hero. It hasn’t been what I had thought it out to be, that was for sure. I never thought, nor wanted, to be praised; and especially not to be bathed in riches either. But I at least did expect a “thank you” from the citizens I saved, so far at most like… three maybe have said it, at most. I think. But it doesn’t really matter anyways, it’s only a hobby. Or at least it was until I joined the hero’s association, so maybe I should start start taking it more seriously. Then again if I did I wouldn’t enjoy it so much… correction: I wouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. Now it’s just starting to become a chore.’ Saitama rambled in his thoughts, eyes idly trained
on the tv screen not paying attention to it once so ever.
The show was just another generic anime: main character who nobody liked: went from zero to hero, everyone starts to like him all of the sudden, then he beats up the bad guy and gets the girl. (In fact it should be classified as false advertising because his life was never as great or exciting as that… well it was at some point, to a degree. But you get the deal.) It’s a repeated basic plotline for many animes nowadays but for some reason you can’t help but cheer on, to watch the simplistic good, righteous side defeat the simplistic evil, demonic (for lack of a better word) organization or whatever. Maybe it was because in reality it was always more complicated than that… instead of the perfect black and white battle fields you see on tv, outside of that “perfect world” was mostly greys. Being complicated, and sometimes the line between good and bad was so blurred that it was aggravating to the point of tears.
How exhausting.
Saitama sighed, scratching his stomach and glanced at the clock.
“12:31 pm….” The bald man mumbled to himself, forcing himself out of his odd position he situated himself in on the floor. Genos had been out for the week, some S-Class hero-y stuff Saitama had assumed. He didn’t mind, in fact he could use a break from the brat. Don’t get him wrong- Genos was a great guy but his 24/7 attentive attention on Saitama’s daily life could get a bit stressful at times for some days he just wanted to be left alone; but never had the heart to tell the kid that. So he took this week like a vacation.
Putting on his favorite ‘OPPAI’ hoodie, blue jeans, and sneakers he headed outside. Shivering at the sudden burst of cold that crashed into his body like violent waves. Closing
the door quickly he shivered once, a pathetic attempt of his body trying to flush out the cold, he decided to up his winter gear a bit.
Now with the addition of a hand knitted winter cap (The one that Genos had made for him last christmas, insisting that a lot of heat was lost through the head and was yet another mention of his premature baldness. Saitama was then very tempted to punch him but successfully managed NOT to do so.) a thick wool long sleeved sweater under his hoodie, and a thick scarf he opened the door again and jack frost didn’t nip as harshly as he did last time so he decided he was good enough to venture out.
Saitama began humming a tune, not paying much mind on his surroundings, and stared at the snowy sidewalk. The streets were silent as they always were, the snowy climate this time of year chased away most wildlife. In all honesty Saitama felt like winter should be his favorite season, because it related most to him. It was blank, (virtually) everyone hated it because of all the things it caused (like illness, painful blizzards and colds, etc.), and it was the loneliest of seasons. Just like him.
And though it should seem like it should bother him, torment him. Taunt him that he’ll never have anyone to hold, or be held by. Die alone, get sick alone, laugh alone, cry alone. And barely meet the requirements of standard living on this planet. Alone. And though it once did, in a way, it doesn’t now. Because now he barely feels anything, he’s… numb. To a certain degree.
“AGH!” He gasped out hoarsely, the cold rushing into his throat and drying it. Saitama then promptly feel onto the snowy sidewalk. His train of thought fell out right along with his house keys, but instead of falling out of his hoodie pockets they fell out of his brain’s ‘thought pocket’ as he nicknamed it. Lifting himself off of the ground he looked behind him to see what had tripped him… it was a slate of concrete lifted up from its original setting. Though it would normally just slide down back into place or maybe just settled back down just slightly off course the slab was lifted to an almost unnatural extent. Curiosity getting the better of him Saitama had crawled his way over to the lifted concrete tablet and lifted it with ease, tossing it gently to the side with a soft thud, the snow having muffled it’s usually louder noises. Saitama had a right to be suspicious, for under the concrete was a small box. Painted gold and plastic jewels decorated the cheap little plastic brown box, a small puny lock held it close.
“How cute…” Saitama muttered, holding the small box fondly in his hands and stared at it; taking in every bit of it’s design. The box greatly reminded him of something his late mother had gotten him for his birthday when he was young, he cherished it and stored all of his coins and ‘favorite acorns’ in there. That was until his father got so mad he threw it out the window and into the street. In which was followed closely by a semi-truck running over it. He never did have a lot of luck when it came to much of anything when he was a kid.
Getting up off of the ground Saitama dusted off his clothes,small pieces of snow hitting where he fell.Focusing his attention back on the small plastic box in his hand, Saitama decided that he wouldn’t open it and return it to a police station or something in case someone reported it missing.
Stuffing the small cubical object, that was about the size of his hand, into his hoodie pocket he continued on walking down the sidewalk; staring up at the pastel blue sky, dark clouds of cotton rolling in like crashing waves towards his home he knew that he should probably be heading home soon. But not just yet… he wanted to stay outside a little bit longer to try to avoid his home which recently has seemed colder than the freezing temperatures outside..
Saitama continued to start idly at the darkening sky, caressing the box with his hands unconsciously he began to ponder the meaning of life.
Bonus:
Saitama sighed, nose numb and teeth clattering. He would be glad to enter the warm confines of his home, take a hot bath, then read some of his favorite manga. Reaching into his pocket he paused noticing he couldn't hear the normal jingle of his house keys.
His thoughts immediately thought back to when he fall, and a sense of dread washed over him.
“Fucking damn it.”