Genos dreams.
Saitama-sensei seemed to be surprised when Genos told him so after being asked. Genos didn't know why. He still has a human brain, after all, which required things like nutrients, oxygen, and sleep. Over 90% of his body may be mechanical, but he isn't a robot; he is still very much human.
Though he had to admit that on some days, it was hard to remember that he was still just that: a human being. A boy, really, since he was only nineteen. That, too, was difficult to remember. Genos felt as though he had lived twice as long as his current age.
It became easier to remember once he started living with Saitama-sensei. Something about living with him (having a home) and studying under him made him feel alive again, like a young boy eager to learn whatever he could. It reminded him, strangely enough, of how enchanted he had been with volcanoes in primary school, checking out nearly a dozen books on the subject until his brother teased him.
But Genos still dreams, and he supposes that's proof of his humanity.
Tonight, Genos dreams - and he remembers.
He remembers the smell of burning meat (flesh, his mind had absently supplied at the time) and the taste of blood on his tongue, vision hazy because of the tears and smoke, the rubble of what used to be his home heavy on his legs. He couldn't feel one of them anymore, but the other shot searing, firey agony through his body despite not being engulfed in flame. Had it been, his nerve endings would have been singed and he wouldn't feel the pain.
He knew that because of his books on volcanoes from just a few years before, the passages that spoke of what a firey death would feel like, how he had read on out of some kind of morbid fascination, just a little boy disgusted but interested in gorey things.
Genos felt very much like a little boy in that moment despite being fifteen because when he finally dared to try and raise his head a little, what he saw around him made him scream.
There was nothing.
Well, that wasn't entirely accurate, but to Genos, it all might as well have been nothing.
Because this had been his home, his neighborhood, and his school had been just two blocks away, the nearby park just a little further than that... and yet now there was nothing but destruction and carnage as far as his eyes could see.
He also saw blood. His blood.
He had screamed and then gasped in pain when his voice tuned hoarse and his throat protested and caused him to cough dryly, the fabric of his shirt over his stomach sticky with blood as it oozed out from an open wound where wood had stuck into his abdomen, head falling back again and lolling to the side and-
Genos' arm was gone.
There was nothing but a pool of blood left where it had been, flesh jagged at his shoulder where it had been torn clean off.
He saw bone.
He screamed again.
He called for his mom, his father, his brother, his grandparents, voice so panicked and frightened and pained that his words were incoherent, meaning nothing to anyone but him, and that was when he saw it.
Later, Genos would recall the cyborg with complete clarity, but in the haze of pain, in the terror that his dream (his memories) invoked, he would see a blurry something.
The thing that had caused this, it's metal gleaming off of the noon-high sun (it was just after twelve o'clock and Genos had been reading manga in his room even though he should have been doing his homework, the breeze of a relaxing, Saturday afternoon blowing in from his open window before everything became what it was now).
The way it seemed to turn only briefly at his screams before it continued on with it's massacre (everyone's already dead, everything's gone, why are you still doing this? he wanted to scream), disappearing in the distance.
What did not disappear was the pain and the shock, which caused him to convulse and throw up shortly after, at which point Dr. Kuseno likely found him.
Of all the things Genos remembered, the moment when he was saved was not one of them.
When Genos awakens, it isn't with a jolt or a shout.
His eyes open and he blinks up at the ceiling of Saitama-sensei's home (their home) and attempts to will away the remains of his memories, the images that he saw (that he remembered) in his dream.
He isn't successful.
Genos doesn't remember pulling back the covers of his futon and stepping out onto Saitama-sensei's balcony, but he must have because he's suddenly standing there, the full moon bathing him and the street below in it's pale light.
It's been a while since he had a dream as vivid as that, one that was just as vivid as his memories. He was happy here, almost... relaxed, and it had decided to pounce on him when he least expected it.
He briefly wonders if Dr. Kuseno could digitally store him - what made him him - in a cloud and toss his human brain in the trash.
He doesn't want these dreams.
He doesn't want these memories.
Genos pushes aside those thoughts and glances over his shoulder to look back at Saitama-sensei's sleeping form. He stares at him, unblinking, for a few long moments-
"Human beings are strong because-"
-before seemingly deciding something and facing forward again, leaning against the wall of the balcony. He looks down at the quiet, deserted street.
He'll keep his dreams. His memories.
After all - they're evidence that he's still human.