Disclaimer: I do not own One Punch Man. It belongs to its respective owner.
a=Narration and descriptions
"a"=Dialogues
a=Inner voices or thoughts
a=Intense speech
This is the sequel to my fic ''The Dazzling Hero'', a crossover between OPM and Rosario+Vampire. A good thing is that it can be read even without reading the prequel.
Note: I'm not ONE or Murata, so please don't be too harsh if I haven't gotten everything so close to canon (different people-different styles of writing). Hope you enjoy the story, nevertheless.
Have a pleasant reading!
Serious Connection
It was another peaceful day in D-City. Following their usual daily routine, hundreds and hundreds of people, young and old, were moving around the city's grounds, heading toward their respective jobs or other type of responsibilities. On the road, an equal number of vehicles were driving up and down the streets in a safe manner, their drivers careful not to violate the Highway Code — who would want to pay a ticket anyway? All in all, everything flowed quietly and without any notable disturbances.
''YAAH!''
But trouble just tend to appear when you least expect them.
''W-WHAT IS THAT?!'' resounded the distressed voice of a woman.
''A MONSTER! IT'S A MONSTER!'' yelled a man.
Strolling casually between the debris of many wrecked cars with painted widescreens, which had forcefully crashed into the walls of near buildings, made its appearance a bizarre figure in the form of something that could be referred to as a slim man.
His hair was styled in a kind of haircut that resembled a long painting brush, its color a combination of the three basic colors — blue, red and yellow. On his face, which was painted white, he was wearing a pair of glistering, square, purple glasses and on his ears two earrings in the shape of small painting brushes. Above his mouth expanded a long, thin moustache with curly ends, the same triple color as his hair. His clothes mostly consisted of an opened, creased, white shirt, stained with all sorts of colors, and underneath it a white T-shirt. Below fell sloppily a pair of wide, white pants, stained as much the rest of his upper cloth. His most distinguishable feature, though, concerned not his general attire but rather his limbs; his finger's had been turned into actual painting brushes of every type and his legs as a whole into painting rollers adjusted to a stick.
''BLAND! THIS CITY IS TOO BLAND!'' the strange entity exclaimed loudly, fluttering his hands here and there as to release colorful paint everywhere around him. ''THIS PLACE NEEDS MORE ELEGANCE! MORE VIBRANT TONES! MORE 'LIFE!'' He slammed his right palm on his chest. ''AND THE ONE TO GIVE IT THAT IS NO OTHER THAN ME, THE MAD PAINTER! THE ONE, WHO WAS SO OBSESSED WITH PAINTING, THAT ACTUALLY TRANSFORMED INTO A HIGHER EXISTENCE TO FULFILL THAT SACRED TASK!'' he declared, full of passion.
''There it is!'' pointed out a cop, looking at the monster, and signaled to his colleagues to follow right behind him.
After all of them had been assembled around the loud troublemaker, he gave another signal, for them to pull out their guns.
''Hmm?!'' the monster hummed in a scornful manner.
''You are surrounded! Put your hands behind your head and kneel down on the ground!'' the head cop demanded threateningly.
Regardless, their target didn't show any signs of intimidation.
''Foolish brutes! Your tiny brains have no means to appreciate true art.'' Unfazed, the monster made an attempt to lift his arms up.
''IT'S ABOUT TO DO SOMETHING! SHOOT!'' the head cop ordered in panic.
Obeying instantly, they began a noisy festival of consecutive, sharp gunshots. As they saw it, there was no way for their target to dodge from that angle and distance — a big mistake as it was proven. As if not paying the slightest heed to the graveness of the situation the monster calmly engrossed into a dexterous pattern of evasive maneuvers, using his rollers as alternative wheels and springing around like a professional dancer.
''Such vulgarity…'' Performing a high jump, he did a spin in midair and splashed his paint all over the police force's men.
''GAAHH!'' they gasped one after another as the thick substance landed on their faces, blocking their vision and forcing them to accidentally shoot their bullets at their companions.
When the noise finally subsided, he cops' bodies were left decorating the street's dull gray like a blood-oozing, blue garland of soulless flowers of flesh.
''That will teach them a lesson to respect visionaries,'' the monster claimed while glaring at the huddle of corpses pitifully. He shifted his face toward his original route along the street, plenty of people being sighted fleeing from that location like frenzy animals. ''Now, time to continue my noble quest to turn this dump into an artistic paradise.''
He made a move to roll forth, yet was immediately interrupted by a bolt of lightning landing inches from his left roller. Irritation creeping into his facial expressions, he turned to the direction the bolt oriented from. The source of the strike appeared to be a short man wearing a protective armor-like suit, with some tubes going in and out, marked with a sign resembling a radioactive logo. On his head he was wearing a cap, goggles and a gas mask, and in his hands he was holding crossed two metallic stun rods emitting electricity of high voltage.
''How about thinking it again?'' the armored hero announced in a tough fashion. ''A-Class hero, Lightning Genji, is on the scene and ready for action!''
The monster grimaced in annoyance. ''Ugh… Another thick-headed meddler… How bothersome!'' he grunted to himself.
''This is the end of the road!'' In a swift leap forward, Lightning Genji charged against his opponent, his grip on his rods firm and his eyes burning with resolve. His duty was to ensure the citizens safety, and that was precisely what he was going to do. No matter the effort, no matter the cost.
''Why can't all these unsophisticated brutes understand the meaning of refinement?!'' the monster remarked, and mimicked the action, preparing his paint for release.
The two sides were gradually getting closer and closer, on their expressions reflected the sheer desire to overpower and incapacitate the one in front of them. Their wills were unbreakable, feeding on the importance of their respective goals. This would be a decisive battle toward each one's own limits. Who would win, no one could tell just yet.
''Seems like someone else beat me to it,'' was heard a well-known, unmotivated voice from the background.
Then, all of sudden the picture of the two about-to-clash fighters turned slightly blurry.
''Oh, well, no use crying over spilt milk.''
On the sound of a sharp 'click', everything was swallowed by absolute black. Succeeding that, looking bored as usual Saitama put down his TV's remote and proceeded to take off his half-worn hero suit. As it stood, he had tried to wear it in a rush, making it all wrinkly and overly stretched on some areas.
''It's a shame, but that level of threat wasn't anything to require your presence anyhow, Sensei,'' Genos said as he walked out of the kitchen, drying his hands with a green towel.
''Still, it could earn us enough for a visit to a family restaurant. Eating the same stuff all the time is kind of boring.''
Genos's eyes shot in severe shock. Someone could say that if he wasn't a mechanical human, he would also have started sweating around the face. ''S-Sensei… could it be that you have come to the conclusion that my cooking skills are lacking?'' he asked, filled with tension and terror. Falling to his great master's dismay; he couldn't imagine a worst-case scenario. The world could end tomorrow and he could learn to endure it, but definitely not that.
''Nah! I was just thinking to give a shot to that new place they opened in F-City and the news called a 'Gourmet Utopia'. They're making such a fuss that it must worth something at the very least, right?'' Relieved of his suit, Saitama sat down on a thin pillow on the floor, grabbing the latest volume of Young Jump. ''If only their prices weren't so off of charts… Does that owner seriously believe that there are many people, dumb enough to spend so much money on food?''
Genos refrained from giving any reply to that. More precisely, he couldn't. The single thought of presenting poor results to his master had occupied every active cell of his brain. Without realizing it, he had allowed himself to become stagnant, failing to further hone his skills toward a higher degree — even though the whole thing was merely about cooking.
''Sensei…'' he started, his voice sounding heavy and plagued in shame.
''Yeah?'' Saitama responded, tilting his head up to him.
Genos placed the tower he was holding on the short table in the middle of the room, and turned to the apartment's door. ''If you excuse me, I will have to be absent for some hours. There is a very crucial matter I need to discuss with Dr. Kuseno the sooner possible.'' His speech coming to an end, he walked closer to the exit, a dark shadow of graveness covering his eyes.
Saitama didn't quite cope with that sudden development, yet shrug it off either way with a casual, ''Okay!''
''I will see that it doesn't take too long,'' were Genos's last words before he opens the door and steps outside.
Closing it behind him, he climbed down the stairs to the first floor, adopted a runner's stance upon entering the main street, and ultimately employed his back's thrusters to help him reach maximum speed while heading toward his destination. Everything else aside, he still had remaining house chores to do when he returned back, so getting late was not an option.
Back to the apartment, Saitama had switched back to his comic, flipping its pages nonchalantly. ''Wonder what's gotten to him out the blue,'' he murmured to himself. ''Maybe he needs maintenance.''
As he was in the middle of carelessly engrossing himself into the comic's story, his body hit the alarm for a great and certainly disturbing emergency. It was the mighty call of Nature, and for all he could tell, he would be damned if he were to not 'pick up the phone.'
Tossing his magazine to the floor, he stood up, and with noticeable discomfort ran into the bathroom. What took part from that moment on was a glorious concert of anguished groans. Saitama had been called to confront an enemy that pushed him to his limits, and as a response so did he.
When the bell was finally rang, the bathroom's door opened, with the bald hero emerging outside, surrounded by an air of stinking victory. ''Phew~'' he breathed in relief. ''I should probably cut a bit on discounted eggs.''
He approached and opened a short, double-leafed drawer beside the bathroom's entrance — the space inside the restroom too narrow to fit it inside — and opened its lower shelf, wandering his eyes in search of a specific product. The grim look on his face a little later revealed that it resulted in utter failure.
''No way! We're out of toilet paper!'' He closed the drawer's leafs and lowered his eyes down to his stomach. ''Everything's all right at the moment…'' sweat ran down his forehead, ''but what if there are more of those things in there?''
Adopting his upright stance, he hurried to the place they kept the thousands of leaflets with the special offers of different supermarkets across the country.
Without further ado, he began checking them out one by one, careful not to miss any date. ''That's it!'' he exclaimed in triumph, picking up one. It was a leaflet of a supermarket in A-City, pointing out as their discount household good of that day a high-quality toilet paper.
Time was running, and that was what he had to do as well. Grabbing his hero suit yet again, since no one knew what kind of Heaven sent chance for additional cash would pop up in his way, he wore it with a series of swift motions and stormed out of the apartment like a hurricane. He locked the door equally hasty, jumping down to the street and next starting to rip through the wind at the speed of a bullet.
Arriving at the place after some minutes of intense racing on foot, he made his way inside and fetched a basket, scanning the perimeter for Household Articles.
''Hope I'm not too late. It's already afternoon, after all,'' Saitama thought while passing by loaded shelves. ''The advertisement said that it's a refined toilet paper, whose softness surpasses even silk. Sounds like a total scum, but it would be good if we could wipe with something softer than that 'sandpaper' our own supermarket sells, nevertheless… Not that Genos would find any difference, though.''
As his steps brought him before the particular shelf hosting his most desired treasure, his nervous expression gradually forfeited its place to pure, glittering glee. Amongst the dozens of various types of toilet paper around, there were still two packs of the one he aimed for. That was his lucky day, as it appeared. Happy, he put them into his basket and made his way to the store's checkout.
His goal had been achieved successfully, yet he seemed somewhat skeptical. ''That leaflet also mentioned forty five percent down on eggs. Hmm… maybe I should buy some…'' Digestive issues or not, a special sale was a special sale. Ignoring it would go against his principles.
Halfway to the checkout and when everything seemed perfectly normal, from nowhere the building's ceiling close by gave out, masses of cement raining down on the floor together with twisted iron bars, broken lights and snapped cables. Dust spread all over the space rapidly, enveloping everything in a thick, suffocating gray cloud. Saitama casually waved his free hand to clear the atmosphere in front of him, meaninglessly as it was a given. On the other hand, the rest of the customers burst into distressed screams and escaped outside the fastest they could.
''YOU BITCH!'' resounded a furious roar from the dust cloud's center. Continuing, faintly yet still a little distinguishably, a large, bulky figure paved its path through the ocean of gray.
''Curse fate for having the great misfortune of being hunted by our group!'' a woman's charming voice echoed down from the wide hole, which had been created across the ceiling.
Saitama had heard that voice before, and not only once. If Tatsumaki's grumpy screeches were the first, distinct female voice to ever be burnt deep into his memory, the second was the conceited declarations of her younger sister; she was floating a little above the hole, clad in a turquoise aura.
''DON'T MAKE ME LAUGH!'' the entity within the cloud roared again, obviously angrier.
Shortly after, a loud buzzing sound of a bug's flapping wings covered the isolated area and the cloud dispersed, reestablishing visibility. The cause was revealed to be a menacing monster, its general features referring to a humanoid stinkbug.
On its head it possessed two long, spiked antennas and its jaws appeared to be divided to four parts — up, down, left and right — with their interior hosting two rows of sharp, curved fangs dripping saliva. It had four muscular arms, the regular four frontal legs of bugs under normal circumstances, ending at three lethal-looking claws. A closer look at its main body indicated that its shining, thick exoskeleton was hardened to the extent of a high density metal's durability. Further below, two sharp, curvy blades emerged out of its shins' flesh. Last but not least, its shelf was equipped with hundreds of tiny, sharp protrusions.
''YOU THINK THAT A PUNY HERO LIKE YOU COULD EVER OVERPOWER THE GREAT DOOM STINKBUG?!''
''Puny hero?!'' Fubuki growled, her temper rising dramatically.
That grotesque aberration of nature actually had the nerve to belittle her. It was beyond unacceptable. She was the B Class-Rank 1 hero — not one of the top ones yet in a position where she led an entire category.
Frustration growing inside her, she aimed her palms down at the insect beast. ''Pitiful barking of a loser dog…'' Her green eyes glowed with a bright light in her aura's color.
Instantly, two of the large shelves around the offender glowed similarly, floated a centimeters from the floor, and eventually crashed on him with extreme viciousness. Even so, the bug monster tore them apart, walking out of their broken pieces completely unscathed.
''Your measly gang might have been able to exterminate my minions, but don't delude yourself that I stand on the same low level as them.'' It locked its mouth to her direction, opening wide. ''FALL!'' Following a deep breath, it released a fast-spreading yellowish cloud of gas.
Fubuki considered constraining its particles and vaporizing it into thin air, yet her psychic powers weren't quite near the scale of those of her big sister, rendering it a risky gamble. Choosing the alternative solution, she maneuvered to the side, mere seconds before the gas made contact, and dove downwards inside the supermarket.
Not wasting time, her opponent fired more gas shots, her utilizing the utmost of her skill and flexibility to swerve and fly to safe zones.
''Annoying pest!'' Doom Stinkbug grumbled between continuous gas attacks.
''You shall direct that to yourself.'' Upon the latest evasive maneuver, Fubuki's eyes glowed again brightly and she aimed her palms at the beast.
An identical aura to hers enveloped the relentless attacker, and right after that he was launched into a farther wall like a missile. He crushed into its concrete, sliding next on the floor, on his right side.
However, that was only the beginning of the esper's counterattack. The glow in her eyes increasing, the ground below her opponent started quaking uncontrollably. The tiles of the floor rose up forcibly, followed promptly by pieces of broken cement and dirt. Everything began swirling around violently, trapping her opponent inside what could be described as a compressed whirlwind of construction materials. Its force and ferocity was such that it soon pulled inside it also other objects from its surroundings, as well as the ceiling's lights together with their cables.
The walls shook from the intense vibrations. Those of the shelves, which were lucky enough to not be drawn into the destructive spiral, had flipped over, flooding the floor with their scattered goods. The space had been deprived of any other type of sound, the only one dominating its grounds being the wild roar of devastation.
''That monster gang's annihilation will surely contribute to Fukuki's group's reputation. They were a Demon Level threat, nonetheless…'' Fubuki thought, wearing a satisfied grin. ''This is what you get for underestimating those above you,'' she declared in the whirlwind's direction.
Her logic indicating that the battle was already over, she lowered her arms, prompting the artificial phenomenon to cease and fade away. What was revealed inside of it wasn't what expected, though. Instead of Doom Stinkbug's torn, deformed corpse, there was absolutely nothing other than tiny pieces of the supermarket's products and everything else that happened to be caught into the technique.
''What's going on?'' Fubuki inquired.
Almost immediately, the ground below her cracked, and her opponent jumped out of it in a fierce manner. It brought its claws up and, upon reaching her height, swiped ruthlessly in an attempt to rip her body in two. Fubuki's experience thankfully was enough for her to create a psychic shield between them at the very last second, reducing the damage to only hitting her back on the floor a few meters away due to the impact.
''Ngkh!'' As it stood, she had avoided any grave injury, but the collision with the hard floor worked good as to bestow upon her a type of pain that was certain to restrict her movements.
For its part, the opposing side had no intention of giving her any time to recover in any way. Impatient, he employed his buffed legs and pounced at her to correct his previous failure. Though partly incapable of straining her spine and muscles so soon, Fubuki raised her palms and made sure to freeze him in midair. As response to that, he opened his jaws widely, like earlier, and released another small barrage of his gas shots. That attack's effects were still unknown; nevertheless, Fubuki wasn't so willing to found out firsthand. Before they touched her, she broke her control on its body and quickly rolled over to the side as many times as it required to escape the gas's spreading radius.
''Where do you think you're going?'' Doom Stinkbug barked. Grabbing the edgy part of a broken shelf, he threw it at her with much ferocity.
Flying past her, it landed and crushed in the course of her path, forcing her to reflexively stop. Her senses instantly alerted her of massive bloodlust approaching from behind. Turning around, she witnessed the frenzy monster ready to slice her with his right shin's blade. Under normal circumstances, she could prevent him using her powers, but the gap separating them was too small to provide her the necessary time to activate them. The situation was seriously bad, the esper heroine understanding full well that only a miracle could save her at that critical moment.
And a miracle it was, indeed. Inches before the heavy blade falls on her, slashing her body in the middle, a piece of a broken tilt was launched onto the frenzy beast's right cheek, striking with enough force that the momentum forced him to bend sideways and crash on the ground beside him like a boulder.
Taking advantage of that 'blessing from the Heavens', Fubuki raised her head up and extended one of her palms toward some of the snapped cables hanging down from the opened hole in the ceiling and the other toward a huddle of packed, bottled water dispensers. The latter were promptly levitated in the air and flew above the buffed insect mass, while the cables were pulled near the floor beneath it. The setting ready, she clenched the fingers of the palm directed to the water containers, causing them to burst, letting all their water flow down on the vicious existence. The same time, the cables' torn ends landed on the pool created by the masses of water. The end result was the expected.
''GWAA!'' Doom Stinkbug howled, his body overwhelmed by spasms and raging sparks running wild across its every cell.
He squirmed uncontrollably and grazed the floor to withstand the burning suffering; the electricity was roasting him from the inside out. Gradually, his shell and flesh quickly adopted a scorched brown and creased dreadfully. The entire scene was truly as if inside of a horror movie.
Pushing herself to get up, Fubuki walked closer to her defeated prey. ''I told you: don't underestimate one who stands on a higher level.'' Her voice came out forced, the pain behind her holding strong, yet not failing to deliver clearly her 'winner's arrogance.'
Doom Stinkbug turned his head to face her. ''Ghk… Don't… Nkk… make me… Ugh… laugh…'' As a desperate attempt to turn the tables, he raised two of his claws and stabbed them into his gut.
His innards pierced violently, the holes on his flesh gushed out a thick gas of yellowish color, similar to the one he had shot from its mouth but in massive quantities. Not even a minute later, the whole space of the supermarket was filled with probably the most intense and suffocating stink someone could ever have the incredibly misfortune to smell.
''Cuh!'' Fubuki coughed, steadily losing her balance and going numb. Her head was in such a daze that her vision had become as blurry as if she was looking through water. ''What is this… Cuh… What did you do?!''
''If… I'm to go down… you will come with me…'' His teeth tightly clenched, the half-burnt beast pulled himself up with utmost effort, the various parts around his body dying out, and prepared his free claws — the ones inside its body kept intact as to prevent excessive bleeding — to rip the cocky woman who beat it to shreds.
Fubuki was more than resolved to counter it, yet her condition made it impossible. Her mind was so muddled that she felt herself slowly losing consciousness due to lack of clean air. To that point, this was the greatest predicament she had ever found herself in.
''I can't…'' she trailed off as her eyelids were steadily descending over her eyes. ''I can't lose here so pathetically…'' The image of her big sister flashed into her thoughts. She looked as scornful and bossy as ever. ''I can't lose to you again…'' Succumbing to dizziness, her eyes were shut completely and she flopped on the floor, helpless before her impendent demise.
For his part, her upcoming executor dragged his feet close to her, targeting Fubuki's head with his claws. ''See you…Gnk… B-Class hero…'' Impatience and huge fury boiling inside him, he fired them at her in the most brutal fashion possible. That woman had ridiculed him, tarnished his pride as a fighter, and she had to pay for it.
Regardless, like eggs and toilet paper, miracles seemed to be too on a special sale that day. While the deadly claws approached their defenseless victim, foreboding a cruel outcome and many tears of overly sorrowful followers, their advance was surprisingly cut off by the interference of a series of cracking sounds.
Its natural instincts alerting him for grave danger, one unmatched by anyone else he had sensed in his entire life, Doom Stinkbug put his attack on hold to check out what it was; the vibes his was getting were absurdly intimidating. What he witnessed ultimately was a bald guy in a silly outfit paving his way through broken tiles and fallen rocks from the ceiling. He had clasped a clothespin on his nose, his mouth tightly pursed, containing inside enough air to puff his cheeks like small balloons. With his right hand he was holding a basket with two three-roll packs of toilet paper and with his left a medium-sized notebook, most likely taken from the checkout.
An irritated groan escaped the bug monster's jaws. ''First a cocky wench… and now a clown…''
Ignoring totally the comment about his appearance — he was hearing it quite often — Saitama treaded closer, stopping only when he was right next to it. His expression absent as always, he lifted the paper to a height the killer monstrosity could see its contest.
Haven't anyone taught you not to fart in public?
Taken aback to the max, the bug monster wide eyed, bits of his charcoaled eyelids raining down before his golden bug eyes. ''Who the hell… are you…?''
Saitama left the paper slide down, revealing another behind it.
B-Class Rank 7 hero, Saitama.
The whole situation was idiotic, maybe beyond that. That guy was just playing around.
''If you don't… want to… get hurt… scram… vermin… You can't…save… this woman…''
The second paper followed its predecessor on the floor, bringing to light a third one.
I'm here to buy toilet paper.
That was the drop that spilled the glass.
Infuriated, Doom Stinkbug turned to face him with his whole burnt body. ''You bastard… What's with… having all the answers… to what I'm saying…?'' it growled threateningly.
As the third paper slid down alike, it presented the answer as clearly as the sky.
Villains' lines aren't so innovative. Is there a school teaching these cliché stuff?
His patience piercing through the roof its reason, Doom Stinkbug dismissed the unbearable pain his body was undergoing and pounced onto Saitama. He would take care of the esper woman, no doubt about that, but not before wiping that smartass of a farceur from the face of earth.
Naturally, that kind of charge was nothing for Cape Boldy's god-like speed. Merely a side step and he was out of the danger zone faster than a blink.
Unfortunate as it was, though, his basket's goods weren't of the same caliber. During his lightning-speed sidestep, the force of the motion's momentum worked well as to remove them from their place, leading them in front of Doom Stinkbug's claws. It went without saying: they were reduced to tiny traces of their former selves.
''You… slick annoyance…!'' Doom Stinkbug growled, enraged beyond enraged.
Instantly, it shifted his attention to where it sensed Saitama halting. He was staring devastated at the remnants of his destroyed household product. Someone could say that he was about to cry, from what his watery eyes indicated.
Devastated and inconsolable, he walked to the resting place of his lost dream of smoother wiping. His chest felt tight and his mind was occupied with grim thoughts like buying a similar product at its full price or one cheaper of a significantly lower quality. Even passing by the creature responsible, he had no remaining psychological reserves to pay any heed.
''How dare you… ignore me…?!'' the Doom Stinkbug barked, and went for a fatal scrape into his skull.
Not caring in the least, Saitama raised his right fist and punched up, his sight unfaltering from the pieces of his lost bliss. Seconds later the head, limbs, shell and innards of the villainous being were seen scattered and stuck across the entire surrounding area. Truth to be told, had that taken place earlier, it would have spared the store from a whole lot damages and Fubuki from plenty unnecessary effort and pain. Although, the supermarket's state aside, the bald hero was well aware of that he wouldn't hear the end of her complaints if he were to jump in and steal her spotlight.
Silent and disheartened, he knelt over the remnants of brutally torn paper. He lowered his right hand and picked one up, bringing it at eye level. The poor things, they were so remarkably fluffy. They had all the future in front of them to offer great services and soothing relief. But everything was over now. They had reached the end of the roll before even the first pull.
As he melancholically placed the piece of paper down, together with the rest, Saitama left out a heavy sigh. Life would keep moving on and so should he. Confronting Nature's next assault 'unarmed' would be too reckless, anyhow. He had to supply himself with other 'weapons', whatever quality those would have been.
Resolved to leave the past behind, he stood up. Then, his gaze shifted to the unconscious Fubuki. He had tried many times to put some sense into that stuck-up head of hers, yet she still continued acting according to her obsession with gaining fame. 'One of these days, she was gonna get it for good,' he considered as he was approaching the spot she had collapsed.
The entire scenery was an empty black. Above, below, right, left; there was not a single evidence of life or activity anywhere. It was nothing but an ocean of lonesome, infinite darkness.
''Where am I? Where is this place?'' Fubuki questioned, lashing her eyes around, restless.
She had never been at that place before — if anyone could actually call a void 'a place.' It gave the impression she was floating in nothingness.
''This doesn't make sense!'' she hissed.
That moment, she heard a ferocious growl coming from her left. She turned there immediately, discovering Doom Stinkbug walking to her direction threateningly.
She scowled. ''You…'' Without delay, she moved to aim her palms at him, yet her whole body suddenly fell numb. ''Eh?!''
A few inches away from her position, the hideous killer pulled back his four arms, targeting her with his claws ready to skewer her.
''No… This isn't right…'' Fubuki struggled to awaken her body, but it was utterly futile; it showed no response to her brain's commands. On the other hand, the deadly claws had reached above her head and looked about to strike any second. ''Damn it! Why?! If only I could move!''
''If you could move, then what?!'' asked her a female, bratty-sounding voice from further above. Simultaneously, the triads of sharp spears appeared to halt as though they froze up.
Adjusting her sight past the claws, within the gap separating them, Fubuki noticed none other than the short yet intimidating figure of her big sister.
''Nee-chan…'' she muttered, lost.
Tatsumaki fired at her a judgmental stare. ''What do you suppose you could do if you had the ability to move?'' She pointed her right index finger down sternly. ''NOTHING! THAT YOU WOULD DO!'' she declared, causing Fubuki to flinch and shot her eyes wide in severe shock. ''I told you many times not to overestimate yourself and learn your limits! But it seems I was wasting my time on an immature, little girl, who can't even come in terms with her own weaknesses.''
''You're wrong, Nee-chan!'' Fubuki retorted stressfully. ''You may think that I'm still the same as I was before, but I have changed! I trained hard and obtained enough power to back up my standings! You might hold the title of the 'second strongest', but sooner or later you'll find us behind you! My group and I will someday reach the height you fly and make the world acknowledge us as a force equivalent with S-Class heroes!''
''This seems so pointless, after all,'' echoed a man's voice from Fubuki's right.
Switching her attention to its source, this time she witnessed her three most loyal subordinates: Eyelashes, Mountain Ape and Lily. The one, who talked, was apparently Eyelashes.
''Yeah. Fubuki-sama's goal is admirable but impossible,'' Mountain Ape commented in a despondent tone.
''I wish she accomplished it, I really do…'' Lily started, ''…yet there's no chance for a group of weak heroes that need to gather together to fight like us to even catch up to the ones with genuine skills like those at the top.''
It was one shock after another. The monster that had managed to counter all her tactics continued pursuing her and she was unable to defend herself; her sister degraded her as if Fubuki was a total failure; and for the end, her own people admitted blatantly that the entire purpose of their team up was going nowhere. It was a true living nightmare.
''Guys, what are you saying?'' she asked. ''You can't be serious! How many hurdles we overcame together, to give up now? How many times we faced the public's indifference, while holding back our tears of disappointment? Are you saying that you forgot all that?! You forgot our dreams?! Who we are and who we will become?!''
Anguish: that was the word that described best the esper's inner psychology upon those absurd developments. She didn't want to believe what was happening — no, more accurately, she completely rejected it.
''You're such an embarrassment for a sibling,'' Tatsumaki stated coldly.
''Stop…'' responded Fubuki with a faint whisper.
''Maybe this was a bad idea from the start,'' Eyelashes claimed in exasperation.
''Stop, I said…'' The whisper was steadily getting louder.
''Wonder if my old boss will accept me back in his business if I quit being a hero,'' Mountain Ape pondered, perplexed.
''Can't you hear me…?'' And even louder, steadily ascending to a scream.
''I like Fubuki-sama, and I would like to be at her side for as long as I can, but I don't know if it's possible if she stays fixated on the same fantasy,'' Lily confessed, wandering her sight left and right in confusion.
''SHUT UP ALREADY!'' Fubuki burst eventually, hitting the boundary of her tolerance. The pain those words inflicted on her was beyond any possible physical wound.
It was that moment, as she had hit the lowest of the lowest of her morale, that Doom Stinkbug's claws resumed their course and ultimately advanced into her top. They pierced her like butter, splattering her innards and blood everywhere.
''NO!'' Fubuki cried out, jolting her eyelids open, her upper body jerking forward in a sitting position.
The scenery around her seemed to have changed into that of a plain room, her lying on a regular-sized bed next to a window.
She panted and shivered, tenser than ever. Cold sweat ran down her forehead and her heart beat so wildly she felt it as an alternative earthquake occurring inside her.
When she finally found the strength to regain her control and breathe normally, her tension was replaced with nervousness. Surveying her surroundings better, she couldn't distinguish anything familiar. In whose room she was and how had she ended up there? Wondering about it, she sensed a foreign fabric stuck underneath her clothes. Addressing her powers, her eyes glowed, with the object slipping out of her coat's collar to reveal that it was a large pain relieving patch, probably the reason her back wasn't bothering her as much as before. Who applied to her, though? The mystery grew bigger.
''Ah, snap! I was killed again!'' a male voice came from outside. It was a rather familiar voice for all she could tell.
Getting off the bed, Fubuki wore a pair of plain flip-floppers, her feet being bare and her heel boots nowhere to be seen, and proceeded to meet the owner. Not much later, she found him sitting on a pillow with his legs crossed, playing a video game.
''If I could just level up a few times, these mutant guards wouldn't be such a drag.'' He was clearly quite bad at it. ''What's the point of making it so hard?! Are those companies happy to know they're wrecking their customer's nerves?!''
''Ghm!'' a dry cough sounded behind him.
Notified of the other presence, he pushed the Pause button and turned around, seeing Fubuki peering down at him with a stiff look demanding explanations.
''Hey, you're finally up!'' he greeted her with a small smile as if there was no particular issue with this situation.
Fubuki frowned. ''Why am I here? What happened back at that supermarket?''
''That stinky monster you were fighting farted and you passed out,'' he replied bluntly.
''Don't joke around with me!'' Fubuki snapped at him, gritting her teeth. ''That monster was my target! My group was tracing its gang's activities for weeks! It was my responsibility to take it down!''
''Well, you certainly didn't look the part while it was about to turn you into mincemeat.''
''Where is it now? Has it escaped?''
''No. It's most likely still there… until the cleaners finish their job, at least. The place was a total mess when we left.''
''We?!''
''Yeah. Who would be such an asshole as to ditch an unconscious woman on the floor of a mangled building? Not to mention that your sister would keep nagging me forever... The thing is that I don't really remember where your base is, and I don't know your phone number to call your men, so I took you to the nearest hospital in case you had any meddlesome injuries. In the end, it was a moderate muscle strain on your back. After that, I carried you to my apartment since the hospital was low on beds and they needed the one you were put on.''
Fubuki crossed her arms over her chest. ''Every hero's personal information, their contact numbers included, are registered in the Hero Association's database. You could have asked them for our base's phone number.''
A droplet of sweat flowed down Saitama's face, sign of uneasiness. He had absolutely no idea about that. It would have been wise to pay more attention whenever Genos was talking to him about their employees' agency, he concluded.
''Either way,'' Fubuki started, and faced the apartment's exit, ''thanks, if nothing else.'' She walked toward the door, where she spotted her boots.
''Are you sure you can go back in your condition?'' Saitama asked, curious.
Fubuki halted in her tracks. Her body was enveloped by her turquoise aura, causing the edges of her hair to flatter. Her muscles twitched once and next the glow faded out. From what Saitama could tell, her slightly sloughing posture seemed fixed.
''Physical injuries of that level aren't anything to worry for people with our abilities,'' she stated upon a brief tilt of her head back to him. Continuing, she returned her focus forward, resuming her course outwards.
Midway, though, she was confronted by something that could easily be deemed as one of the most embarrassing moments of her life; her stomach cried out the least fitting growl for a lady. She could address to a mirror, to verify it, yet the heat she felt around her cheeks sufficed as to notify her that her face was beet red with shame.
''Looks like you're hungry,'' Saitama pointed out. ''You've been sleeping for four hours straight and it's past noon, so it's not any surprise, I guess.'' He stood up, moving to the kitchen. ''Mind to stay and grab a bite before you leave? I was gonna prepare something for me, sooner or later. Genos went out and he's gotten late.''
His offer wasn't bad as whole and it was a fact that Fubuki was rather hungry, as he had mentioned, however, it came to her as awkward. Her relationship with the bald man had gotten better compared to their initial meeting, and there were occasions she had visited during gatherings with other heroes — mainly King and one-two times Bang, to convince Saitama join his dojo — but it was the first time she was all alone with him. He wasn't anyone suspicious or dangerous to worry about, of course; nevertheless, his company brought her a kind of discomfort. It made her more self-conscious.
''What do you say?''
Should she respond 'yes' or 'no', Fubuki couldn't quite decide. She had set herself on not relying on anyone else than her men. In addition, she didn't want him to think that she would be in his debt. If only that insisting rumbling inside her belly were to cease, she would have resolved that matter on the spot.
''Fubuki…?''
But it didn't. Rather, it was becoming stronger with each passing second. Whatever conflict was taking place in her head, her body had already reached an answer and it didn't seem so willing to go back on it.
''Very well, I will,'' she replied ultimately, doing her best to suppress her blush of embarrassment, which had become more vibrant the instant she spoke. She would prefer to die than present such an image to a man known for his irony as Saitama. It would be like begging him to tease her.
''Got it!'' Standing up, Saitama turned the game console off and headed to the kitchen. ''Is white rice and fried shrimps fine with you?'' he suggested before entering the room.
''Yes.''
His objective clear, he nodded in verification and moved farther inside. Back in the living room, Fubuki settled in on one of the cushions around the table in front of the TV. She was aware of the bald hero's exceptional skills in combat, but his efficiency in cooking was a complete mystery.
Several minutes later, Saitama made his appearance again from the kitchen's interior holding a wide tray. On it were placed two pairs of chopsticks, two bowls of rice, two plates of fried shrimps, two filled soy sauce dishes and two glasses of water. It wasn't anything too extravagant, more like too plain, yet Fubuki couldn't express any dissatisfaction. She was a guest; she couldn't insensitively whine about any lack of luxuries.
And there was no reason to, from what it was proven. ''This is… delicious!'' she remarked, astounded, after tasting both the rice and the shrimps.
''Genos handles most of the cooking — and other stuff, actually — since he moved in, but I have learnt a few things while I was living alone,'' Saitama replied, occupied with his own meal. ''Watching cooking shows to kill time can be quite useful sometimes.''
Fubuki would never admit it in the open, but she was impressed. She had dined at some very fancy restaurants during her life, tasting food of high quality, and yet that particularly simple and common supper Saitama had prepared for them granted her great fulfillment. Whatever were his means of perfecting his cooking skills, he had undoubtedly succeeded to a major degree.
''It still sounds somewhat absurd that an S-Class is so content with following a B-Class. I don't remember anything similar happening in the past.''
''Well, it was his own decision, and I couldn't deny him forever. Having someone else giving you a hand with housework helps a lot anyway… not to mention chipping in considering the rent.''
Fubuki's gaze shifted to the apartment's entrance. ''You mentioned that he went out. Was there a call for a major monster threat?''
''Not quite. He suddenly thought that he had to visit the scientist responsible for his robotic body, and set off, saying that he wouldn't be late.''
''Didn't he tell you why? He claimed you're his master.''
''Nope, but I guess it has something to do with maintenance. Maybe he's also installing some new weapons. He's too fixated on power-ups for his own good.''
Hearing the last statement, Fubuki's expression turned thoughtful. Genos already owned a place within the ranks of the strongest heroes. Despite that, he hadn't abandoned his quest for improvement and attaining higher forms of power. If superior warriors like him kept advancing further, ascending even higher than their current state, surpassing their previous limitations, she would never be able to reach the ladder of their league. She poured all her being into honing her dexterities, yet that didn't seem to be enough. If the mightiest of the mightiest put two times the effort to become better, she had to put three or four. Otherwise, she would remain another brief mention on some unpopular newspaper.
The funny irony was that what troubled her to such an unbearable extent was a mere misunderstanding. Genos never revealed his actual reason for going to his savior's lab, and that in its turn led the poor esper into a maze of mistaken speculations and distress. Not in her wildest dreams she would ever consider that the purpose of the machine man's absence was upgrading his cooking manual.
''Are you alright?'' Saitama inquired, skeptical, noticing that she had stopped her eating to dive into deep anguish.
''Yes…'' Fubuki replied, but not quite convincingly. Everything from her facial expressions to her voice declared that she was the least alright.
''Doesn't look like that to me.''
''You're overthinking it.''
''Am I?''
Putting down her chopsticks, Fubuki slithered backwards and stood up, her eyes shrouded with a shadow of discouragement. ''Thanks for the meal. It was one of the tastiest I've had till now.'' She switched to the exit, indicating her leave.
''You're welcome,'' Saitama said, and picked his glass up to wash his mouth off some rice. After a sip, he removed the glass a little farther from his lips, still holding it near his head, and his brows creased into a grave frown. ''Say… if it's about gaining strength to raise your reputation again, you should seriously drop this madness before it results in anything awful.''
''What?!'' Fubuki jolted, returning her attention back to him.
Saitama casually took another sip of water and responded, ''If you really are a hero, focus more on improving for the sake of the people you have to protect than to compete with your noisy sister. And that means not to try biting more than you can chew, just to look good. You can help others plenty even without being some snotty, overpowered brat.''
Fubuki's teeth started gritting roughly, frustration growing inside her. ''There you go again…'' was heard a repressed growl.
''Huh?'' Saitama raised an eyebrow, lost.
A dense aura to her powers' color enveloped Fubuki's body, causing it to float inches above the floor. The same time, the furniture across the room levitated similarly, rising to her floating height.
Becoming witness to all that, Saitama wide eyed in panic. ''Hey! What's the deal?!'' It had been long; still, he hadn't forgotten the havoc she had created because of her unjustified tantrum. And hell, the worst was that this time she was inside his house. ''Okay… How about we calm down a bit, eh, Fubuki? There's no need for needless brawls and most of all damages, right?'' he appealed to her, making appeasing gestures. Putting up with the procedure of replacing everything she would break was certain to be as troublesome as unpleasant.
''Shut up!'' Fubuki snapped at him. ''You're doing the same exact thing every time we cross paths, scolding me like I'm some little kid! You and my big sister, both may feel too secure and confident because of your insane powers, but it's not like that for everyone! You have never experienced the pain, the dread of knowing that you don't have the recognition you long for because no matter what you do will never enough! The grief of realizing you are only one of the insignificant 'shadows' looming around the bright 'suns' everyone worship!''
Saitama's look switched to its serious appearance. ''No one's insignificant in this world! Be it a hero, the owner of some grand company, or a plain salary man, none of them worth more or less than the other! You've stuck that stupid idea in your head only because of your jealousy for your sister's glory. Fame isn't everything, though, and especially when it comes to heroes! Heroes' first priority is defending those who can't by themselves! Showing off to create a popular image isn't a hero's business… It's for idols and politicians!''
''So what?! Should I be happy with only being a name in a list?! Someone destined to always observe the ones relishing the bliss of monopolizing the public's cheers from the sidelines?! I CAN'T!''
The aura surrounding Fubuki got thicker, bestowing tremors upon the atmosphere across the space. The windows clattered and a small gust began forming inside the living room, making all the levitated objects spin around.
''This is bad… very bad…! She's pissed for real,'' Saitama thought to himself, worried about his apartment's safety.
What he ought to do under these circumstances, though? Persist on his efforts to quell her anger or utilize his own power to restrain her? The first option seemed relatively meaningless, as she had gone past the point of talking it out. Concerning the second, it definitely was the best choice to produce results, but he didn't feel so comfortable with submitting women using force — taken that they weren't any dangerous monsters, anyway. He was in a stalemate.
Then, with the edge of his right eye he witnessed his floating, swirling TV grazing the wall with one of its corners. The answer to his bind had been delivered and pretty clearly. Principles were important, but tolerating a dull life without TV was bound to be a real torture of boredom.
In a decisive leap forward, he bolted himself in front of Fubuki, determined to give an end to that unreasonable outburst. Robbing her of the time to react, he grabbed both her wrists and pressed his weight on her, pushing her down on the wooden surface.
''Mnk… LET GO OFF ME!'' Fubuki barked in a furious tone, squirming violently.
''Can't do that... Genos might be an S-Class, but his monthly income won't be enough to cover all the stuff you'll break,'' Saitama claimed as if he had no obligations to the apartment's condition, in spite of the fact that he was the original tenant.
''Release me or else…''
''Only if you calm down.''
Her temper ascending to maximum heights, Fubuki unleashed onto him a psychic wave, powerful enough to shake the apartment from the very bricks holding it together. A few cracks spread here and there across the walls and every window around shattered to pieces. Regardless, Saitama was absolutely unaffected, his grip on her wrists remaining as strong as ever.
''Does she even realize she's in another person's house?'' Saitama questioned to himself, taking small glances around them. ''At this rate, she's gonna demolish the entire apartment complex…''
He hurriedly employed every capability of his mind to devise a sufficient method, as to prevent her from messing his place further than she already had. Unfortunately, it wasn't such an easy task.
''I think there was a particular solution for cases like this,'' he considered, remembering the standard cliché of someone slapping another, who had lost control of their actions. ''Maybe that would work…'' reflexively, his memory replayed the conclusion of the fight with the Mosquito Girl, ''or maybe not.'' Endangering to accidentally pulverize Fubuki's head didn't seem like a preferable outcome.
He squeezed his mentality to produce an idea that would put an end to that absurdity, hitting every time a wall of 'blank.'
''Think, think, think… What else they do during these situations…''
He pressed his brain harder, almost painfully. He needed a means to affect a woman so much she would lose concentration.
''Wait… That it!'' he exclaimed internally, stating the end of his tough mental quest. Before his eyes flashed a scene from a romantic movie he was forced to watch a night there wasn't any better on the other channels. ''Kind of extreme, but it's either that or searching for a new apartment... And I'm surely not in the mood for going around and asking prices.''
His head entered a descending course toward the wriggling esper.
''Eh?! What are you doing?'' she asked him, half-confused and half-wary.
She would have said more, yet, before she had the chance, Saitama closed his eyes and sealed her lips with his. Using his tongue, he breached through the gates of her mouth and confined hers in a twister of wild lashes.
''Serious Series: Serious French Kiss!''
Fubuki's eyelids couldn't have stretched more than they already had, making it look like they would rip the skin beside her eyes. No man had done what Saitama was doing at the moment. Should someone recklessly attempt it, he would see firsthand the true face of 'Hell.' A Hell so merciless and cold even demons would feel chills up their spines. Saitama was most likely the only one to go for it without a single care or trace of fear.
Shortly after, the tensed aura cladding her gradually faded out, allowing the flying furniture land on the floor, while her burning cheeks were dyed in a vivid blush. At first, she wanted to crush Saitama to pieces for sexually assaulting her, but as the kiss continued she started experiencing a kind of satisfaction and euphoria completely unknown to her. It was as though her mouth was being electrified, sending immeasurable tingling sensations all over her body. Adding to that, for the first time in her entire life, she was before a phenomenon she had only heard about: she was wet.
''Okay, this looks enough,'' Saitama panted, breaking off their kiss to pull his head up, his sight still covered. ''Sorry, but you didn't leave me much of a—'' he started, lifting his eyelids to discover Fubuki staring him about to burst due to immense embarrassment, ''Um?! What's up?''
''You… mindless idiot…'' Fubuki whimpered, upset, appearing to struggling as to hold in her tears. ''That was my… first kiss!''
That reaction was enough to give birth to torrents of guilt inside Saitama. It wasn't like it was on purpose, she technically pushed him beyond the boundaries of restrain with her attitude, but that in its turn didn't excuse what he had done. As much of a tough fighter Fubuki made herself appear to others, she didn't cease being a pure maiden.
''Yeah, it was my mistake, but who in their right mind goes ballistic inside another person's house just because they don't like facing their issues?'' His gaze averted sideways. ''And to be fair, that was my first kiss too.'' His experience in battle might have been vast, yet his experience with the other sex was as much as Fubuki's.
''I've calmed down now, so can you please get off me?'' she requested in modesty.
''Oh, all right!'' Loosening his steel clutch around her wrists, Saitama let himself flop backwards on his rear, in a sitting position.
Fubuki followed with propping her weight on her elbows and next adopting the same posture. If it felt uncomfortable being close to him before, now it was unbearable, not so due to hatred but mostly inner restlessness. What he claimed about her unsightly behavior in a foreign residence had a solid base, thus she had no right to condemn him for resorting to whatever solution he could think of to protect his home.
''You have my apologies,'' she said. ''When I get back to my group's headquarters, I'll make sure to send you a check with enough money to compensate for the damages I caused.''
''That would be really helpful,'' was Saitama's relieved response.
''But know that you're partly to blame for what happened!''
''I?! Why?!'' Saitama's face made a perplexed grimace.
Fubuki casted her gaze diagonally down to the floor. ''Don't play dumb. Other than my big sister, you're the sole person to disturb my feelings to such an extent. You're just a 'nobody', and yet your words have enough strength to stab me right in the heart and throw me into disarray... I never even ask you to advise me as to how to be a proper hero.''
''True, but continuing to waste your life by chasing after your sister's image is simply sad and in all honesty, unnecessary. Pouring more energy into saving citizens would be handier.''
''You never stop, do you?''
''I'm simply saying that you shouldn't strive to live as 'your sister' — No, seriously! Who would want to be so nerve-wracking?! — Live as 'yourself.''
''And what merit will that have? My big sister is loved and worshipped by many as the second mightiest hero, while I'm merely another one of those mid-ranked, who are summoned mainly for medium level threats. Neither the society, nor the Hero Association think too much of me and my group.''
''So what?! Does that prevent you from doing your job or something?'' Getting a glimpse of a glister below her eyes that put him into suspicion, Saitama moved closer to Fubuki and reached his right hand to make her face him directly. As he had correctly guessed, she was welling up tears. ''Plus, even if most of those blockheads out there don't hold you so high, you still have your subordinates, don't you? They wouldn't swarm around you if they didn't find you a worthy leader.'' His sight wandered left and right, uneasily. ''And if I had to say, I definitely prefer you over that loud brat of a sister of yours. You can be quite stubborn but also fun to hang out with when you let yourself relax.''
The final blow, that last statement was the blow for Fubuki's stressed feelings. Saitama's bold speeches about a hero's qualities and values had that strange power to never miss giving her psychology a good shake, but that last one surpassed them all. He was concerned about her, maybe in a blunt and brazen way, but he did so and it was a fact. On the other hand, she did nothing more than mocking him about his sloppy life or searching for underhanded methods to recruit him because of his extraordinary abilities.
''I'm not pressing you or anything,'' he said, pulling his hand away from her face and leaning backwards, supporting his upper body on his palms. ''How you will spend your life is your own choice. Still, it would be smart to reconsider some stuff from my perspective. There are surely better things to do than—'' not even allowing him to finish his sentence, Fubuki suddenly pounced on him, forcing him down on his back with her on top. ''What the heck?!'' he whined, not so much because of feeling pain but rather getting assaulted from nowhere. ''What's gotten into you, Fubu—'' denying him another full sentence, the esper cut him short for a second time. The difference from the previous one was that what she used wasn't an abrupt leap, but a deep kiss.
She slipped her tongue into his mouth and engrossed into a payback session for his own 'intrusion' not long ago. Naturally, she couldn't raise it to the respective level he did, but it didn't matter. She wanted to do it, and she would do it the best she could, regardless of the possibly flawed result.
For Saitama's part, he had been left totally dumbstruck. Why would Fubuki do that? It wasn't like he didn't enjoy it, he was being kissed by one of the most attractive women he had ever met, yet it felt illogical. He knew the reason he kissed her, but what was hers?
When they finally separated, connected momentarily by a dissolving, thin thread of saliva, she peered down at him with a face redder than the reddest red. Her breath came out heavy and her skin was dripping multiple drops of sweat.
Saitama could only blink at that. ''Err… Don't get me wrong, it was great… but what was that all about?'' he asked, adopting his standard, absent expression.
''Responsibility…'' Fubuki claimed, out of breath.
''Responsibility?''
''Exactly! Responsibility for every time you threw my heart into turmoil as well as for stealing one of my most precious experiences.''
Saitama mused over those words for a little in his head. There could be only one interpretation.
''So… in other words… could it be that you want us to do it?'' he inquired straightly, leading the very essence of delicacy right into a bottomless cliff.
Fubuki's powers activated for just a moment, pulling and smashing an empty plate of those which hosted the shrimps on the top of his head. It wasn't anything to hurt him; nevertheless, a sufficient method as to notify him of his mistake.
''You have no sense of tact, do you!'' Fubuki commented, and promptly leant in for another kiss. She had made her decision, and it wasn't like she got to know his peculiar character yesterday.
''Saitama-san! Are you there?! What on earth were that noise and those tremors?!'' a man's voice resounded that moment from outside the apartment's door, forcing Fubuki to cut off her downward course midway.
''Who is that?'' she asked, tilting her head to the door.
''My landlord,'' Saitama responded bluntly. Helping Fubuki get off him in a gentle manner, he stood up. ''With all that fuss, it's no wonder he came.'' He headed to the voice's source. ''I'll find an excuse to send him away… Be right back!''
He treaded to the door and opened it partly, revealing behind a short middle-aged man. He had thin, gray hair, brown eyes and minimum hints of wrinkles around his eyes. His constitution was slim and not what someone could well describe as taut — more like flaccid.
He was wearing a marine shirt and white pants, held together with a brown belt, and on his feet two old, black flip-floppers.
''Can I help with anything, Ishida-san?'' Saitama asked through the gap of his slightly opened door.
The landlord frowned. ''Your tenant's contract states it clearly, Saitama-san: 'any kind of activities that may bother the rest of the residents of the apartment complex are strictly prohibited.''
''Yeah, but…. You see… There's a good reason behind it.''
''Such as?!'' The man's expression showed blatantly that he didn't hold much trust in the bald hero's words. Saitama wasn't any regular tenant, nonetheless.
''It was that… you know… one of Genos's spare parts,'' Saitama claimed, throwing out the first thing that popped out into his mind.
''Demon Cyborg Genos-san's?!'' the landlord remarked, his look loosening up.
''Yeah. Genos apparently forgot to check it for possible malfunctions, and it suddenly went out of control. I'll remember to tell him to upgrade his memory processor when he returns from a job he's gone to.''
''Does that mean your apartment has suffered damages?''
''Not many.''
''Would you like me to come in and assist you in tidying up? Genos-san will probably appreciate it a lot if you accepted a hand in handling all the meddlesome housework.''
''Erm… No!''
The case taken care of, Saitama slammed the door closed. That ass-licker of an old man was trying to get on Genos's good side since the moment he moved in. On the contrary, he was a total headache when Saitama was living there alone.
''He's such a handful,'' he huffed, exasperated, and turned around.
Instantly, he mentally slapped himself so strongly that his slap to Mosquito Girl seemed like a tender love tap. Across from him, farther into the living room, Fubuki had stripped off her coat and was currently standing to stare at him in only her black laced lingerie. It was his first time looking at a half-naked woman in real-time, and he certainly was glad she was someone as gorgeous as her.
''Feeling hot?'' he asked goofily, unable in his daze to muster a cleverer comment. The torrent of his blood had gradually started changing course toward his lower half.
''I only thought that we shouldn't waste our given time,'' Fubuki said cutely, fidgeting in extreme embarrassment. ''We can't predict when Demon Cyborg will come back, and it would be utterly shameful to be discovered in any obscene state.''
''You've got point.'' The bald hero raised his right index finger up. ''Can I have a moment?'' Like another lightning, he disappeared in a brief flash of speed.
He reappeared the next second in his bedroom, starting to desperately fumble the contents inside the drawers of his nightstand.
''It was somewhere in here, I'm sure of it!'' He flipped over the various small objects, mixing them up to a sloppy mess — not quite the best way to find what he aimed for. ''It's definitely here! I remember tossing it in one of the drawers some years ago!''
Eventually, through much effort, he managed to get a quick glimpse of what he was looking for at the very back of the bottom drawer.
''Bingo!'' he exclaimed internally, in much enthusiasm, and pulled out of the drawer a small box of vibrant blue color. It was a box containing condoms.
''Is everything all right?'' Fubuki inquired, puzzled, upon stepping into the space.
''Perfect!'' Saitama declared, brimming shining glee.
Adopting his normal, upright stance, he moved to Fubuki's place and lifted her up in arms, bridal style.
''Whoa! Hold on a sec—'' she squeaked, taken aback.
''This is a special occasion, right?'' Saitama pointed out as he peered down at her beautiful, surprised emerald eyes, wearing a smile full of tenderness. ''It wouldn't feel right if you were to consider it a bad memory.''
Proceeding to his bed, he laid her down the smoother he could, leaving her blinking in severe perplexity before his gentleman's attitude. She could swear from their previous encounters that this one aspect she would never witness from him.
''Comfortable?'' he asked her in consideration. The response he got was a positive nod.
His smile widening, he lowered his face into hers, locking their lips in a sweet kiss.
Hours passed by and as day surrendered its place to the night, the belated cyborg finally made his appearance back to the apartment, plunged in remorse. Dr. Kuseno was attending an important meeting when he arrived at his lab, so he had to wait patiently for him to finish his business before informing him of his request.
Concerning him, Saitama didn't present any notable displease. If anything, he was too tired to burden himself with trivial stuff like Genos's delay. Fubuki had lent him some help by restoring the cracked walls back to normal with her powers, the closer possible, but the cleaning up part was solely his own. After what they had done in his bedroom, he didn't felt so content with imposing on her more work — even though everything was actually was her own fault.
''Sensei, I earnestly hope you forgive me for my miscalculation. Had I known about Doctor's busy schedule, I would have never committed such a disgraceful blunder,'' Genos clarified in an apologetic tone. He was in the living room together with Saitama, dusting off the furniture around.
''Like with the previous eleven times, 'it's fine!'' the latter responded carelessly, watching a comedy series on their TV.
''Even so, it was unsightly of me to leave your side and let you combat all the monsters that attacked our residence by yourself.''
''Don't bother. They weren't anything to make a fuss about.''
''Of course! I'm full aware that your capabilities surpass the boundaries of common logic, Sensei. Regardless, I could prove myself to be of some use by seeing to the following chores, at the very least.''
''Nah~ it's good if I'm doing something for the house from time to time. It breaks the monotony.''
''If that's your opinion, Sensei, I have no right to disagree.'' Confirming with his robotic vision that there wasn't left a speck of dust anywhere, Genos moved to enter the kitchen. ''To show my sincere repentance, I'm planning to serve the best feast you have ever tasted, Sensei. My list of recipes from around the world has been increased tenfold, so at the moment I hold the means to cook whatever difficult or complex dish you might crave for.''
''Sounds nice! I'll leave the choice to you, then.'' A stressful thought crossed Saitama's mind on that statement and he turned to Genos's place, owning a grim look. ''But nothing with eggs… Okay?''
''Yes, Sensei!'' Genos agreed obediently, in a respectful manner.
Without wasting another second, the cyborg resumed his course into the kitchen. He took the cooking equipment he required, and providing himself with the necessary ingredients from the shelves, the drawers and the fridge, he rushed into assembling a dish that could send his Sensei to a heaven of flavors.
''I almost failed as Sensei's disciple,'' Genos considered as he was stirring some ingredients in a large bowl. ''I must be very careful it never happens again in the future. Sensei is a man of exceptional caliber and compassion; I can't betray his expectations of me with continuous mistakes.'' He ceased his activity to stare at his master's sluggish figure in the living room. ''He even went to such lengths as to device a ridiculously flawed excuse, to conceal the fact that he conducted sexual intercourse with a female while I was absent…''
His memory replayed a short scene where he went to take out the garbage and his sensors of smell detected the essence of semen. Scanning the bag with is x-ray vision, he discovered among everything some creased tissues and below them a box of condoms.
''He's at an age his hormone's level is especially high, and yet he made me the great favor of complying with my selfish request to live here, forfeiting many opportunities to copulate. The least I can do is to make sure he doesn't come to regret it.'' Returning back to his stirring job, he grabbed and added a few spices in the mix. ''It rises the question, though: what woman would master choose to share an experience of that sort?''
One and a half month later, the headquarters of the Fubuki Group found itself flooding with countless upset voices of overly panicked people.
''How is Fubuki-sama?'' asked Eyelashes, out of breath, addressing his question to Mountain ape. Apparently, he had dashed to the scene like a madman.
They two them stood in the front line of the entire huddle of Fubuki's henchmen, outside their base's restrooms.
''I can't tell with absolute certainty. She's shut herself in there for an hour now, and the only one permitted to accompany her was Lily,'' the muscular man replied, sweating bullets in anxiety.
''What happened?''
''She came in the kitchen while I was preparing everyone's breakfast and asked for fried eggs with bacon, avocados and melon and when I served them to her, she suddenly groaned as about to vomit, covered her mouth, and ran off into the restroom… Do you think she's gotten sick?''
A troubled frown creased on Eyelashes's forehead. His comrade's hints seemed to have led him into a solid yet also grave conclusion. ''I wouldn't describe it as 'sick', but her condition is probably one requesting for immediate measures.''
''Immediate measures?! Like what?''
Eyelashes crossed his arms over his chest. ''First off, we'll have to give an urgent call to Tatsumaki-san.''
A/N: And that's the end of Part I.
Next time, prepare for more fluffiness, drama, extreme action and most of all, an important meeting bound to change Saitama's entire life from its foundations.
*Chap 2 is a lemon extra.
See you!