Work Text:
There was no clock or calendar in the room. He owned no watch, no phone, nothing to tell him how much time had past and how much time was left. He relied on his internal clock and the lines on his skin. Other times he relied on Tatsumaki. She did not visit at night, and he could conclude that when she visited, it was morning, and when she left, it was evening. And then of course he had three meals a day delivered, and this told him when morning, midday, and evening where. But no numbers. No exact reference to time itself.
But he felt it in his bones. He felt it in the beating of his heart, the race of his pulse, the ache of his muscles. It was a chant in his mind that drove him to his feat and turned his eyes to the only door in the room.
Its time
~
“How many of them are ok with this?”
It was not often that Saitama’s voice betrayed worry. It was reserved for the moments of fear when he saw Genos hurt, when he saw bright eyes dim.
“More than half. They remember the battles you won for them. They remember you saving them.”
And Genos had been so sure, so unwavering in his confidence, so radiant in his hope.
“But they don’t like me. They’re still afraid.”
“Their fear was what made them irrational at the beginning. Time has shown them their own mistakes, and they regret the actions they took.”
“But they are still afraid of me.”
Genos cupped Saitama’s cheeks, brining his head closer to allow contact at the brow.
“No, because now they understand that they need you.”
“And what happens when they don’t need me?”
“Then we go home, and let them call when they do need you.”
“And Tatsumaki?”
“I’m afraid she wont hear anything I have to say. It will have to be you.”
“Genos I don’t know if this will work…”
Genos gripped the back of Saitama’s neck, kissing the man fervently.
“I’m not letting you go. Not anymore, Saitama-sensei.”
Looking at Genos and into his eyes, Saitama could tell this was something no amount of convincing would alter. The plan was set in motion already, and Genos would breathe his last before someone managed to stop what he set out to do. He was determined, ridiculously determined, and that determination made Saitama nervous.
“How am I supposed to convince the world I shouldn’t be imprisoned when I don’t even feel like the world needs me anymore? I’m getting old, Genos. Someone will show up sooner or later and they’ll take my place, and then no one will want me around.”
“If someone else can rival you then let them come. Let them remove the weight of responsibility from your shoulders so that we can both be free. Until then, you know you’re needed, sensei. It’s why you still care so much about a world that is only unfair to you. Its because you’re a hero.”
Saitama could cry at the softness of Genos’ words. They made him ache and burn with the feeling of being so very loved and feeling so completely undeserving of it.
“I’ve made you a prisoner. I’ve chained you to this place and you never complained.”
“If only I had been a real prisoner close to your side. I would daydream about being chained to you so we were never separated. You never held me against my will, you held me too far away. My love, my everything, Saitama, it is time to come home.”
~
He walked the stretch of the room, and he lifted his hand to the steel of the door. He had never liked the feel of cold metal, for it reminded him of when Genos was too badly damaged, too low on power to emanate heat. Against the door he pushed, leaving a handprint and crumpling the flat frame. It moved under his command, and he was aware this would be the first time he had ever opened the door. It had been opened for him only at the very beginning, and then again for the funeral. When he left to act as a hero, he did not use the door. But now, he moved the steel aside, careful to not destroy it, just open it.
And then it was open. His feet remained firm on the floor of the area he had lived in for over 10 years. He hesitates to step over a small yellow line the floor that signified the area beyond did not qualify as space he was allowed to be in. It seemed to simultaneously beckon to him and beg him to go back. In the back of his mind he heard the alarms blaring, the red light flashing, the room screaming chaos and panic.
He breathed in deeply, letting the air out slowly. He took the step.
~
“It’s amazing how many people still support you! All I had to do was ask and everyone really just opens up! I told you, no one forgets a hero that saved them, and you saved everyone.”
Mumen goes on, vibrating with enthusiasm next to King, Fubuki and Genos. Saitama looks at the smaller man with fondness, finding it hard to feel worried in the presence of someone so optimistic.
“The Blizzard Group has gotten commitment from almost all the B-Class heroes, and a few A-Class. Honestly the only ones that gave us trouble were the ones that still thought you were some type of fraud. But don’t worry, we took care of them.”
Fubuki beams at Saitama, clearly quite proud of herself. He wouldn’t admit it, but in the times he had seen her fight more recently, she had gained an enormous amount of power. Not enough to rival her sister, but enough to change the way she saw herself. She was more confident on her own, happier even.
“As long as you didn’t bully anyone. Let people make their own decisions, don’t go acting like some mafia group.”
Fubuki just waved her hand at the words.
“Well it doesn’t matter much, considering King’s been with me most of the time. If my fellow B-Class heroes wont listen to me, then they’ll sure as hell listen to an S-Class.”
Saitama looked over at King, who appeared rather calm despite everything. It didn’t stop Saitama from worrying about the man.
“King, you don’t have to get involved, you know that right? It’s ok if you want to hang back.”
Surprisingly, King met Saitama’s eyes.
“I know. I’m doing this because I want to. I’m still registered as a hero, and even if I can’t help people like you guys can, I can still try to help with what I got. Besides, it’s nice hanging with the Blizzard Group. We play games sometimes.”
Saitama returned the larger man’s smile, feeling uncharacteristically happy at the moment. The people he cared about were in good places, taking care of themselves, and after all this time, they still cared about him. There was still a pain in his chest when he considered the thought of Bang there with them, but the smiles surrounding him were honest and so bright.
“Saitama-sensei.”
He turned to Genos, about to tell him to drop the ‘sensei’ for the millionth time, but stopped at the serious expression he was met with. It wasn’t that it was so serious it stopped him, it was that his face was serious, but his eyes were soft in the particular way he only showed to Saitama. Beautiful, imploring, gentle, hopeful.
“Genos?”
He took Saitama’s hand, intertwining the fingers delicately. Saitama knew he itched to be closer, act more intimate, but neither were comfortable with showing much PDA, especially when they knew other were watching so closely.
“Do you believe in this? In us?”
Saitama heard him. The unspoken word added to the sentence.
Do you believe in me?
And Saitama did. He trusted Genos with everything. If his bones were glass and his skin as fragile as petals he would trust Genos to protect him, to never hurt him, to still love him.
“I do. And I’m really lucky to have you guys.”
He said it casually, but he was looking at Genos with sharp brown eyes that returned the message yes I believe in you and so much more.
He felt a soft squeeze given to his hand, soft, but firm.
Determined and loving.
~
The hallway had no guards. This far down it was too dangerous for normal humans to be. This was a place were monsters were kept, after all.
He did not have shoes, only the plain cotton pants and shirt he had been given. Not stripped and numbered like prison garb, yet unmistakably uniform in design. Genos had told him he hated the clothes they gave Saitama because they were of low quality. Saitama didn’t disagree, but he knew Genos hated the reason he wore the clothes more than the clothes themselves.
With no shoes, his feet were almost silent on the cold floor. Each step was careful but confident, and he felt steady while moving forward. The hall was long, with no other doors than his and the one far ahead leading to the elevator. A few cameras watched him, but there were almost always cameras watching him, and he cared too little to take them down or even acknowledge them.
The door down the hall he was heading for opened with a speed that did not come from the automated system. The steel crashed against the wall, leaving the perfectly smooth view now uncoordinated in appearance. A hand was raised, still outstretched from the motion of opening the door. That hand was powerful, and when raised, merciless. But it had never actually been the hand that caused the fear. It had always been the mind of the person who raised their hand in a gesture of destruction.
Eyes as cold as the harsher winters but as green as the early summer stared into Saitama’s. He had always thought the color was quite lovely, unearthly with how they glowed compared to his plain brown ones.
His feet stilled, warmth being absorbed by the metal floor and he faced Tatsumaki.
~
He waited, legs crossed as he watched her. She did not sit, she rarely did, as she preferred being above everyone else both figuratively and literally. He had said what he needed to, but he would not continue until he heard her first reaction.
“No. You belong here in your cell. You’re a prisoner. You don’t get to decide what happens to you, that’s already been decided.”
He did not jump to his feet in shock, it wasn’t like he had never expected a yes. But like all events in his life, Saitama was unwilling to leave the battle. He met her glare with soft eyes.
“You’re not just talking about me though. We’ve both been ordered here, ordered to be prisoners. We both chose to follow that order.”
“Like hell I’m a prisoner. I’m only here to watch you.”
He didn’t believe her, and he knew she didn’t believe herself. He didn’t know if she was lying out loud for her own sake or because she wanted Saitama to believe it.
“Don’t you want to be a hero again? A real one, with freedom?”
“I am a hero! You’re the one who was stripped of their rank!”
“Leave this cage with me. We’ve been here long enough.”
“Are you listening to me? I said you’re staying here! Don’t start thinking things have changed! Nothing has changed, and nothing will.”
She turned around on her last word, letting it fall softer from her lips. In her motion to leave, she was halted by a hand on her wrist.
“Tatsumaki, the association is crumbling. Even if you think nothing has changed, something will eventually.”
“Let go of me. Right now.”
He did as she asked, not wanting to push her to the point of true aggression.
“We don’t belong here. We’re supposed to be out there, saving people and fighting monsters.”
“Stop saying ‘we’ like I’m a part of this.”
“You know you’re a part of this. You know you’re not meant to be stuck here.”
“Shut UP!”
“We’re the only ones that can set ourselves free!”
“I KNOW! I know more than anyone-in the end=no one can help us!”
“That’s why we have to help each other, Tatsumaki let me help you=
“I don’t need ANYONE’S help!”
“YES YOU DO! NO ONE CAN DO EVERYTHING ALONE!!”
“I AM ALONE!!”
The walls echoed their cries and their eyes mirrored the desperation held by the two. The determination to help, and the resistance to accept such help.
“You’re not alone, because I’m here too.”
He thought he must have crossed a line, because those were the words she fled from, leaving him in the true position of being the one alone.
~
“Tatsu-
The words died in his throat as her hands danced forwards, closing the walls around his body. He felt the sensation of being pushed, but he moved in defiance to this. He was moving forward today, not backward.
“Go back to your cell, stupid man.”
“I cant do that anymore. There are people waiting for me.”
“You said it yourself though, no one needs you. Or were you just upset at the time because your sex robot had better things to do?”
Saitama wondered for the thousandth time where her anger originated. Where her frustration began and her patience ended. Where she had been hurt enough to leave a wound that never closed.
“I may not be needed. Not as a hero anyways, at least right now. But I know that there are people who genuinely want me to leave this place. And you know what? I want to leave this place too.”
“When has anything we wanted ever mattered? We don’t even matter as people.”
“We’ve always mattered, others just told us we didn’t.”
“And what makes you so right and the others so wrong? What’s so special about you?”
“Nothing. I’ve always been a really simple person. There’s nothing special or extraordinary or even cool about me. But for some reason, people still care about me. And people care about you too.”
“You’re wrong. Attaching yourself to others will only tie you down. You’ll grow weak, and you’ll be held back.”
“Even if that were true, who cares? Why is strength so important when I can be happy?”
She does not fumble at his words, but her eyes wavered. They grew larger in size, but imperceptibly so. And the hands wielding power like no other was lowered. The claws retracted, the wings folded, and closed.
“Happiness…is not meant for people like us.”
The bite in her voice fell short, but the bitterness was evident.
“But it’s not impossible for us to have.”
He was answered with silence, and as he watched with a great sense of guilt, her eyes turned dull and tired with the misery of defeat, and downcast with something Saitama couldn’t identify. She did not cry, she was not the kind to cry, rather, she was the kind to use her frustration to fuel her own determination. But the battle had not been physical, and the mental stress was not the kind she was used to. She was worn down and torn down emotionally, and she did not have the energy to continue fighting.
“Go then. Leave and be ‘happy’ or whatever. I don’t care.”
She remained in the middle of the broken doorframe, and as he advanced he did so slowly, at the pace of a normal man. He stopped when he was in front of her, and had she been what he could call a friend, he would have placed a hand on her shoulder. But he knew better, and his hands remained at his side.
“Will you leave too?”
But he knew the answer.
“No. I cant.”
“Maybe not now, but when you’re ready.”
Silently she moved to the side, just enough to let Saitama walk forward without hitting the wall. He hesitated, looked at the door just beyond, then back at Tatsumaki. She wasn’t looking at him though. Her mind was somewhere else, in a place she felt she needed to be, in a place that was safe.
So he took the steps forward that placed distance between them, and he stood before the door to the elevator. He didn’t look back because if he did he thought he might show pity, and she didn’t deserve that.
“Just go already. I don’t want to see your stupid face anymore.”
He didn’t want to say goodbye, because it wasn’t a goodbye. He was sure it wasn’t. He had told Genos so many times that it wasn’t goodbye because they always ended up back together, but Genos was Saitama’s everything, and Tatsumaki was just…someone.
But still a person, and still another hero.
“Tornado,”
The elevator doors slid open and her head turned just enough for him to know she was listening.
“…see you around.”
Entering the elevator, the doors slid shut and the image of her was gone, replaced by a metal surface so clean it reflected back his own face. He wondered whose eyes were being reflected back at him, because surely his own eyes did not look so full of so many emotions.
The elevator shot upwards, and a woman with eyes more green than spring and summer laughed once, as quiet as the flow of a breeze. She wondered about a man who was strong but made kindness a priority, and who somehow broke free before she had even thought of freedom.
~
“They want to take you out for dinner on your first night free.”
Most of the streetlights were broken, allowing the two to lie in the light of the moon and stars, blanketed by a darkness that was natural and comforting. The air was growing warm, and when Genos spoke his neck flexed, and Saitama watched it turn silver and glow.
“Who’re ‘they’ and why do you sound unhappy about that?”
They were facing each other, so it was hard for Genos to look away when Saitama had his eyes so captured.
“Mumen, Fubuki, King, possibly Bomb according to a letter, a few other heroes who feel like celebrating, S-Class and below. Sonic has made 3 appearances in the last week and I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up just to take someone’s food.”
“Sounds fun though. Now answer the second question.”
“I had wanted to cook for you. I wanted it to be our dinner together on your first night. I wanted to be selfish, and I apologize for such childish feelings.”
Saitama regarded Genos is silence, their eyes never breaking contact. In the night it was as if Genos’ cheekbones were illuminated by his eyes, painted in a soft gold.
“Well, maybe it wont be our dinner alone, but you know, it might count as our official first date.”
Genos’ eyes widened comically, his mouth parting just slightly. The sight made Saitama’s eyes crinkle from his smile.
“I had not considered that, I will have to notify Fubuki that the arranged restaurant must include candles and high quality tabl-
“It doesn’t need to be fancy or whatever! Really, as long as you’re there it doesn’t matter where we eat.”
Saitama realized his mistake as he heard Genos’ fans working harder than usual. He tried to avoid getting mushy, but he tended to do it accidentally. Genos was sappy enough for the both of them, and Saitama was just generally awkward with actual romantic words.
“Saitama…”
Gentle lips brushed his cheek and Saitama flushed at the tenderness.
“I-I mean, uh, even if it’s not our dinner, it’ll be our night! We’ll be alone then, right?”
The lips traveling over his cheekbone froze at the same time Saitama realized the implication of what he said.
“I MEAN-WE=
A soft laugh brushed Saitama’s skin, and the older man covered his face with a hand as the other was taken, smiling lips pressed to the knuckles.
“I’m glad I have not been the only one anticipating long periods of time spent together in privacy.”
“You-shut up.”
The smile only spread wider, and golden eyes danced like fireflies.
“It will be our night, and our morning, and our day, and every day after that. Our life. Us. We. You and I.”
“I don’t remember falling in love with a ball of cheese. Where’s my mysterious cyborg prince, huh?”
“Perhaps if you kiss this ‘ball of cheese’ it will turn into the prince you desire, if we are to go by the standard fairy tale rules.”
They had both already moved forward, noses touching and eyes glancing at softly smiling lips. The kiss was slow and soft, sweet enough to give cavities. When they parted they could only smile, feeling like adolescent sweethearts, full of bright enthusiasm and endless possibilities. Like the young and in love they imagined nothing coming between them and a love that would never waver and last for eternity, but with the years of endured hardship on a relationship that grew solid and sturdy the two had surpassed such possibility of separation. They were not bound by string, they were bound by steel. They were unbreakable.
“Soon we can go home, Genos.”
~
He thought they must have evacuated when the alarms went off. The lobby had once been busy, full of rushing desk workers and board members and the bright contrast of colorfully suited heroes. Saitama had once walked through the crowd, at first so unnoticed and then gradually drawing attention. The steps he had taken here had been quiet and unremarkable, and yet he had found his way to the top without true effort. He had been so young at first, so unaware of the future. He had worn sunflower yellow and bright shiny red with a cape that fell over air like snow. Now he walked barefoot, in a torn gray shirt with rumpled pants. Dirt clung to parts of his legs and his feet touched the floor soundlessly.
This was a place he had been welcomed, been dismissed, been acknowledged, been proud and supported but in the end rejected.
“When I first saw you, I thought you were a joke.”
Saitama had almost missed the man standing in the shadows, his eyes resting lazily on the other. Eyes red and dark but devoid of passion. A dangerous nothing behind a tired face.
“You’re not the first.”
Saitama spoke gently, despite knowing the man he spoke to was immortal, had died a million deaths, had suffered pain without an end. They called him a zombie, but he was just the right amount of human for the world to really hurt him quite terribly.
“I never would have guessed you were the best of us. But I’m glad it was you, and I wanted to say that to your face. Fuck knows you deserve it.”
“I don’t really think I deserve anything. But thanks. Are you the only one here?”
“Yeah, I was the closest when we got the call. Everyone else should be here soon.”
“The call?”
“The typical emergency ‘Saitama’s out, everyone fucking panic’ call. But you probably know the plan already, so I’d just relax while you can.”
“Is Genos-
“Probably shitting himself with excitement. I said relax, he’ll probably come flying through the damn wall any minute.”
“But I don’t really know what to do if other heroes start coming. I wont fight anyone.”
“For the last time, relax. We got this. You’re boyfriend covered all the details.”
Zombie Man lit a cigarette, taking a long inhale of the smoke before releasing it into the slightly damp air. He had bloodstains on his clothes, and Saitama wondered at what point the man had given up trying to keep his own blood inside himself.
“It’s going to rain soon.”
The two somewhat immortal men met eyes, and the warmth of chocolate brown outweighed the heaviness of rusted red.
“Yeah. Storm’s comin’.”
He released the words with a cloud of smoke, falling from his lips and curling around his body like a snake. Thunder came from very, very far away.
~
When Genos was done speaking, Saitama could only stare. Not at Genos, but at the ground past his head. They had had this conversation, but somehow they both knew it was different this time. Like a winter sun, a sudden glimpse of change had appeared.
“Everything has…changed. I can see myself living for the first time, so clearly. Just, living. And it feels impossible, and frightening, but I want to do it. I want to live, and it has to be by your side, Saitama.”
He was weak to Genos using his name. Genos always pronounced it clear and sharp with a gentle twist to it. He said Saitama’s name like a storyteller, expressing awe and adoration and a certainty no one else knew.
“…I want that too. I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t…want to be alone down there. It’s always cold without you.”
Genos looked like he was trying not to cry and Saitama reached for him before tears could be shed.
“Just give me this chance to get you out of the dark. Give me your trust, and I promise, I wont fail you.”
Of course Genos wouldn’t. Saitama couldn’t imagine Genos failing him, because he couldn’t fail him. All the imperfections Genos saw about himself were just things Saitama couldn’t see as anything but a part of the person Genos was, and that in itself was something else to love. Genos wanted perfection, but he was already so much more incredible to Saitama than to himself. And it was always Saitama who was saying perfection did not exist, and it was always Genos arguing that Saitama was the very definition of it. A young man looked at himself and thought ‘I need to be better’ but the elder always looked to him thinking ‘he deserves better’. An argument neither would ever cease to have. The belief that the other could not be a more amazing being should they try, while always looking at themselves with self consciousness.
“I’ve always wanted to know what it felt like to live peacefully and be in love. To have some kind of normal, happy life. And if we could have that together…I think that’s something worth fighting for. But my happiness isn’t worth hurting other people for. I’ll destroy every monster in the universe to be by your side, but I cant fight other heroes, Genos.”
“I know. I know you’d never hurt another person, I know you don’t like it, I know you’re the selfless one and I’m not. So I want you to let me fight this battle for you, without violence. Everything I have learned from being with you, I’ll use. And then I’ll make sure to never let go of you, ever again.”
As if to demonstrate that point, he squeezed Saitama’s hands, the force enough to break bones but in the hands they were in, it was only pressure on skin, the physical action of reassurance.
Maybe it was because the years had truly worn down the older man, or maybe they had made the younger more persuasive, more passionate, but either way the older man gave in to the old argument for the first time.
“…I trust you to fight for me then. I’m ready to live too, Genos.”
The air was thick with emotion and the words even dared to wobble from the lips, and it was easy for Genos to let small tears fall. Not to weep at the thought of separation, but at an enormous, impossibly enormous relief exploding inside his chest.
He closed his eyes as he raised his head to the sky, chanting finally, thank you, finally, finally, at last while his lover held fast to shaking metal hands, holding him to earth so he would not loose himself to the weightlessness of his body unbound by such burden.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. I’m so-I, thank you, Saitama I love you-
He smiled then, the black tears slowing easily as he opened his eyes. Because to Genos it wasn’t just a transaction of faith, or a matter of winning a battle, it was the person he loved finally, finally, finally choosing Genos over all the world and all the consequences. To Saitama it was a chance, just a chance to live a life he could not fully imagine, but to Genos it was already definite. He could finally have Saitama.
He would have Saitama.
~
In the middle of an ocean of eyes, he stood unmoving as a stone against current and waves. Here he was vulnerable, but as always he did not show it. He was passive in the face of dilemma, and he allowed himself to be watched while whispers washed over him. This was his presentation. The crowd was for him, but his partner was missing. He stood in silence and retreated far into himself, waiting for the voice that was sure to come calling.
He felt the first drop of rain on the blade of his shoulder. Then another on his head and ear. Still more came down until large drops fell from his cheeks like childlike tears.
The rain washed the dirt on his legs and cleansed him of the life below. The lightning came faintly from a far off area. Even the thunder seemed too far away to be loud.
The rain was warm, but the wind that blew was from a different source, and he felt the call before he heard it, and he turned before he saw it.
The world was gray and darker than usual but eyes like sunshine and summer fireflies broke through air and touched his heart so loudly he didn’t hear his name. He saw the lips move, and the movement was so familiar he knew it was his name said aloud in the way no one else could copy.
He knew the world was watching, and it scared him, it made his arms stiff as he reached out but he still reached out anyways, unsatisfied until he felt the hands he loved so much in his own with the eyes made of starlight as close as possible as foreheads touched. He did not need to think, he did not need to speak, all he had to do was look and be drawn in and loose himself to a feeling that wasn’t new, that wasn’t unfamiliar but still shocked him like sparks.
They didn’t kiss. They didn’t need to. The intimacy was felt, and the kiss would come later, would come many, many times for a lifetime ahead. The crown was for Saitama, but he didn’t look at the crown. Genos did, and Saitama only looked at Genos.
“I am the hero Demon Cyborg, S-Class, rank 7. I am not here today from the association. I am here of my own will, for the hero next to me, and for those here that wear the title of hero.”
His voice was strong and loud, it flowed with confidence and Saitama knew without looking that he had the attention of everyone who had gathered.
“For those here that do not know him, the man next to me is the hero Saitama, and once he was in the position of S-Class, rank 1. He is the most powerful being to exist in this universe, and the greatest hero this world has ever known. And 10 years ago, he willingly was imprisoned by the Heroes Association without reason. He was stripped of his title, his rights, and freedom, and despite that, he returned to the outside world in times of need to protect the world, and always returned to his prison without complaint.”
There was silence apart from a few small whispers, those that were perhaps new to the hero world murmuring in question and surprise.
“The hero Saitama will no longer be held like a prisoner. He will remain free, and he will continue his work as a hero, and to those that still appose this, I demand you speak now and tell me of a time the hero Saitama did not save your life in some way. I will hear your arguments, but not excuses made of fear and pettiness. He is here right now, and he will challenge no one, he will hurt no one, he will demand nothing. I am the one challenging. And I ask those that stand with me for this hero to also defend him. For this man who had saved all of us without complaint or reward, who will appose his freedom to continue to protect all of humanity?”
The murmurs continued, and Saitama found himself wanting to rest his head on a warm metal shoulder, to hide his face from the world. He squeezed the hand in his own. The hand squeezed back, like a promise of not letting go.
Saitama thought of the life they had lived together before, the life they had lived separated, and the future life together. The slow build of a relationship founded on chance and strangeness. The love formed from admiration, and a shared pain. Tragic lovers for so long.
“I-I heard he went crazy though, destroyed whole cities!”
Saitama turned his head lazily to find a face unfamiliar. He felt the shake of a hand clenching by hid side, a hand that belonged to his lover.
“Didn’t he let monsters go? Heroes are supposed to kill monsters!”
And this, Saitama thought, was how it was like all those years ago, when it first started.
“I heard he controlled them, hell, he’s probably part monster himself!”
The ocean of eyes becoming a wave of voices. The ripples of murmurs growing larger with confidence. Uneasy tides of fear.
“He is! He’s a monster! That’s why he’s so strong!”
He stilled the hand that Genos tried to raise, whispering don’t when gold eyes bore into him in question, in hurt.
“That’s enough! Bunch of idiots talking like you know things, SHUT THE HELL UP!!”
Fubuki’s back was the only Saitama could see. She was facing the crown in front. She was a new current appearing in this ocean, and colliding with the waves of unhappy voices, she pushed back.
“He saved everyone, all of you, when we couldn’t! He brought justice for us all!”
Mumen, with his voice determined as ever. They had met as heroes, they had become friends through kindness alone.
“He is a good man, his heart is bigger than anyone’s!”
Saitama mentally noted that he would have to get King away from so many romance games.
“He is the hero we must all strive to be.”
And Bomb, old and hunched, who didn’t have to come, who lives so far away, who had a life of his own, he had come to. A man alone, a man who had buried Bang, who had buried his little brother.
“He’s got more spirit than any of you fuckers!”
Metal Bat, no longer a teenager.
“Saitama is honorable as myself!”
Atomic Samurai, hair grey and white now.
“He’s awesome!”
“He’s always there for us!”
“Saitama belonged as top hero!”
“He’s the world’s best!”
“He’s our hero!”
It went on. Playing like a silent movie, black and white, while Saitama watched. He was far away, wondering who these people were talking about, wondering why they chose to defend and stand with such a person. Was the person they talked about really like that? Really such a hero that so many other heroes admired?
Saitama saw a man, an uninteresting, plain, normal man. He saw this man look around him like he was confused, like he was lost. He saw a taller man with metal arms and black and gold eyes hold the other steady, and Saitama thought, this man, who is so not incredible looking, must really be special.
He must really be a good hero.
~
“Did you always want to be a hero when you grew up, Saitama-sensei?”
Saitama held a dandelion in his hand, most of its seeds already lost in the wind.
“I guess, in a way, yeah. I always wanted to be some cool super hero, but at some point I grew up and thought it was impossible.”
“Why did you start thinking it was impossible?”
“I was a dumb teenager. I figured wanting to be a hero was childish, that it was time to think about a real future, whatever that is.”
“How is being a hero childish though, sensei? Being a hero is a great responsibility.”
“It wasn’t that heroes were childish, it was that the idea of me being a hero was childish, because it wasn’t possible.”
The dandelion lost more seeds as wind came again. Almost all that was left was the stem and a few remaining seeds. They wanted to leave, he thought. They want to fly away and begin their life.
“What made you think you couldn’t be a hero, when you seem to so obviously have been made to fill such a role?”
Saitama looked at Genos, wanting to laugh, but couldn’t bring himself to mock such honesty.
“Because…I wasn’t strong.”
And it was true, wasn’t it? He had been weak and soft. His skin bruised and bled and he hurt and was harmed. A normal, weak, human. The words on his tongue sounded untrue, sounded strange and weird, to say he had not been strong once. But he remembered the cuts on his knees from falling and the bleeding knuckles from broken skin hitting tougher skin. His vulnerability, his pain.
“Then your past self would certainly look at you with an enormous joy and proudness.”
He wanted to tell Genos to shut up, but god they were both smiling and he felt like his heart was heating up.
“Nah. Not me. My past self would look at you, Genos.”
“Why would they find me more interesting than their very future?”
Saitama inhaled, knowing he was about to say something stupid, something dumb and sappy like all the bad movies and manga but he still went with it.
“Because you’re the most important part of my future.”
He was happy he said it, basking in the embarrassment of Genos, hearing all of his protests and objections and endearment but tuning them out so he could just smile and watch. They both knew it was bad movie material, that it was incredibly dumb, but even so it was still honest and just sentimental enough to make them both embarrassed.
He didn’t quite love himself, but he loved Genos more than the entire world, and Genos loved him back. It was more than enough.
~
Saitama imagined many flowers would bloom soon. It was that time of year, with a green covered world ready to burst with color. New growth reaching for the sunlight, drinking in the heat.
“Sensei, why did we come here? I thought you wanted to go out to dinner with everyone else.”
“Ah, I’m not really sure. I guess it’s just a habit to run away with you.”
It was a light rain, but the tree they were under kept them from drowning. The park was empty and overgrown.
“Are you cold? We’ve been in the rain a long time now.”
“No, its summer rain. Its warm. It feels nice.”
It was true they could have gone with everyone else to wherever Fubuki was leading them, but instead Saitama had slipped away, hand pulling Genos as if a monster had just been defeated and those careful, precious moments presented themselves for the two to disappear and embrace. Perhaps it would take time to break such a habit.
“Do you not wish to go out to dinner?”
Saitama didn’t really know. How long had it been in which he had had an option? When was the last time he could choose where to go and what to do? It was easy to follow a rutine, to accept the decisions of others and do based on that. Freedom was terrifying in the way it offered no guidelines or path to follow. It was amazing to be able to do anything, but it was also daunting to be able to do anything.
“Can we just stay here for a bit? If you don’t mind?”
“It is considered a privilege to be by your side, Saitama-sensei.”
“Ugh, no, no sensei. Just-
He pulled the younger man closer, hand on his waist and head tucked between shoulder and neck. Saitama breathes in fresh grass and motor oil, clean metal and black tea. He closed his eyes and listened to the whirr of a motor, the clicks of joints, grasshoppers buzzing and the rain hitting bright green leaves. Hands and arms holding him close, inorganic and so warm.
“…I have loved you for so long, and for so long I never imagined being able to have you. I never imagined a world where I could be so happy to live, and all of it, everything, is thanks to you, Saitama.”
Saitama thought about Genos, about everything Genos had given him, about the words and touches and smiles. The tears he couldn’t wipe away. The injuries he couldn’t fix. The only thing he had ever been able to give Genos was love, and for some reason beyond Saitama, Genos wanted it. Saitama gave his heart away, and was more surprised than unsurprised to find it had been held safely, and not forgotten. They had both met at a time of violence and unease, of naivety and loneliness, a time that was not appropriate for love. But it wasn’t called stepping in love, it was called falling, and it was unintentional and so very painful in all the ways it was astoundingly beautiful.
“I don’t deserve you. Not for all the times I left you alone. I never even apologized, did I?”
“You don’t need to, you never needed to. You acted out of selflessness and justice and I was always ungrateful. I can never compare to you because I could never sacrifice like you have. You say you don’t deserve me, but nothing in the universe deserves kindness like yours.”
“But you have sacrificed yourself for other people. Genos, you gave up everything to become strong, and that wasn’t in vain. What is sacrifice to someone like me who can’t even feel pain, when you risk death all the time for strangers?”
“Saving people is part of being a hero, Saitama.”
“Yeah, but it comes from being a good person. It’s one of the reasons you’re so amazing.”
They hummed their endearment into each other, feeling the vibration of voice through touching skin. They spoke in whispers accidentally, words too soft to be spoken above a certain volume. They praised everything about the other until there was nothing left to praise, only the repetition of I love you, I love you, I love you, sinking into hearts like raindrops into earth.
“Stay with me forever. Let me be part of your life until I die.”
He was asking for the world and more, willing to beg on his knees, praying to Gods he didn’t believe in for Saitama to have him.
“I will disappoint you one day. You might not want me in your life forever.”
“I do. I need you. I didn’t live until you, and now I cant live without you.”
“If you mean it, you can’t take it back later, ok? I wont be able to let you go, I’ll never let you leave. You have to be sure, Genos. Do you really want someone like me clinging to you forever?”
Saitama wanted to tell him to run while he could, to get the hell away, to find someone younger, someone beautiful and more fitting. Someone better. But he couldn’t, because for all the selflessness Genos praised him for, Saitama did not honestly think he could allow Genos to go.
“Yes. You are what I want most in this world, and I am 100 percent certain about that.”
“Then you’re stuck with me. Forever. You got that?”
The smile Saitama received from Genos was large enough to make his eyes crinkle and his teeth to show. Eyes made of stars glowed, ready to burst.
“Yes! Forever, Saitama-sens-!
The shorter man pulled the taller forcefully down to meet the kiss, cutting him off from addressing the other man further than his name. Saitama felt his own hands tremble from emotion he didn’t know how to fully express, and his skin felt raw and open and his heart too vulnerable. Genos was bigger than he was, but when Saitama held him he only felt the whirl of energy and the tremor of excitement mixed with caution, honesty combined with love. He wasn’t a boy or a teenager anymore at all, and he was stronger than most of the entire world, but to Saitama he was fragile. A child that had suffered, an adolescence that was lost, a young man at war with himself, and above all else, a person that deserved love and to be loved.
“Thank you for waiting for me.”
Thank you for loving me back. Thank you for giving my heart a home. Thank you for saving me.
The rain dripped down spines and seeped into the cracks of metal and the pores of skin. It wasn’t cold at all but they both still shivered.
“You taught me patience. Just like everything else.”
The beating of water on leaves promised the growth of flowers. The act of a kiss followed by the holding of hands promised a growing love.
Words so delicate and eager, blossoming from lips and flowing like water.
Words that had always been waiting to be said, saved for the moment presented.
“Let’s go home, Genos.”
“You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
An echo of a conversation from a lifetime ago, words said in a room where two people lived, not knowing just how much they were to lose in the future. Foolishly wasting perfect days of being together. And Genos, he had been singing a song in his head for a long time now, the soft tune blooming from his chest as he hummed it aloud without noticing. He never knew the lyrics until the day the other man asked what he was humming, to which he could not reply for it very suddenly became clear that the whole time the unspoken words twisting in and out of musical notes had been ‘I love you’.
And so when Saitama asked the question phrased with slight hesitation, Genos answered with none.
No, Genos had never been afraid.