The black-haired Lady diverted her eyes towards the window behind her father's head, thinking of all the memories that included her sister. Even if Tatsumaki was older than her, her behaviour expressed her utmost dislike for society – which Fubuki understood completely, living a life that was already planned by one's parents was difficult. And their family was not the only one that was concerned about that matter. The pressure of fitting perfectly into the upper-class deprived them of their freedom and choices. All those aspects had forced Fubuki's generation to rebel against the set rules, proper behaviour and rich society.

Illegal duels were their way of expressing their protest, although Fubuki was certain that there was more to it than she had been told. As time passed, the competitions had taken a quite different dimension: more people joined and new rules were made. Although she had never participate in those duels, Fubuki was tempted to enter the competitions with her group – she was certain that her sister had somehow taken part in it.

"Ascertain your attendance this evening," her father suddenly spoke, sweeping Fubuki away from her thoughts.

"O-Of course," she responded nervously, not that the assembly this evening was something new for her – but the mere idea that a certain bald man would be present, caused her stomach to feel more nervous than before. "Unbelievable."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Oh . . . nothing of importance." The black-haired heaved a sigh as her father did not questioned the matter any longer – even if his expression demonstrated that he was aware of her odd behaviour. Yesterday, everything had been fine until that man had entered her life. At first she had been rather irritated by his manners and oblivious way of handling things, and as hours passed, she could feel her heart beating faster by thinking of him. She could not explain the oddity of this circumstance, but the way he had looked at her after saving her was all it took for her to be swooned. "I will return to my room," the now flustered woman informed her father before dashing out of the dining room.

"This household is becoming crazy," he muttered as a reply, looking at the newspaper and wondering why his daughter was a blushing mess whenever her eyes involuntary glanced towards the damaged wall of their mansion. He knew that she could not have destroyed it – no human was capable of damaging it. Some repairs would take place during midday, he had engaged to best of mechanics to fix the hole. If the attending guests were to see it, it would be a disaster.

"A masquerade ball?"

"Yes." Genos saw the twitching in Saitama's left eye.

"Again . . . A masquerade ball . . ."

"Yes," the blonde teenager replied again, knowing exactly what his master wanted to discuss. It was not the mere information of attending a ball where one needed to dress oneself in disguise – which was the highlight for this event during this era of mechanical fascination – but the fact that Genos had bought Saitama a costume. Well it was rather an accessory that would function perfectly as a costume.

"And the first thing you thought about when hearing the word masquerade, was this?" Saitama lifted his hand, displaying the one item that somehow upset him more than Genos had anticipated.

"Yes."

No more words were exchanged as the youngster left the main room to dress himself up. After having done their training – which included a set of 100 push-ups and sit-ups, 100 squats and run of ten kilometres – the time to prepare themselves for the event was running short.

"Fine . . . If that is needed to receive free food," Saitama murmured.

The speeding train transported several people that were attending the same event as Saitama and his disciple; their masks and accessories were made of golden material. Some had included their goggles, clockworks and top hats. Costumes such as hunters, scientists and pirates were the most popular ones – including Genos' outfit who was dressed as a soldier with a long coat, his mechanical arms replaced the long sleeves and boots warming his feet. Although his face did not show it, Saitama was certain that his disciple liked his costume; the details he had sewed into his outfit were beautiful. Every detail had been made with love while Saitama was stuck with one particularly item that apparently changed his entire look: A wig. It was a short black one and the moment he had seen himself in the mirror, Saitama appeared as his older self, when his hair had still grown on his head. Genos had decided to add some goggles to Saitama's outfit, just as a stylish pocket watch. And all Saitama cared for was supper; although some of the looks people were throwing at him during the train ride were not the same he usually received. Women were winking at them, giving both of the men interested and flirtatious looks. Genos was a little embarrassed by the situation – but tried to ignore it nonetheless – while Saitama did not fully understand why they were doing it: if it was because his baldness was hidden and they considered him more attractive, then he could not support such thinking. Judging people from their appearance was something he did not care for. Superficial people were not considered his friends, because they did not see the real beauty in a person.

"We will arrive shortly."

Upon hearing Genos' voice, Saitama only grunted before looking out of the window again. Even if he liked to fight, Saitama preferred to be left alone this evening. He would much rather eat than being demanded to partake in a duel by an arrogant gentleman. Due to this incidence, he had destroyed a wall. An expensive wall. If the housekeeper and landlord would find out about it, Saitama knew that he would be in serious trouble. Paying a great amount of money for a block of stones was not his plan of enjoying an evening. Only as his thoughts focussed on the hysterical black-haired woman he had saved the night before, did his heart jump out of his chest. She had seen him hitting the wall . . . And she was the daughter of the landlord.

"Oh God no," he suddenly sighed, his expression contorted.

"Sensei?" Genos asked his friend, seeing horror written all over his face.

"I hope she will not recognise me." That was uttered in a whispering tone, and for the first time, Saitama was glad that Genos had insisted on disguising themselves. If everyone was wearing different costumes, then she should have problems detecting him among the crowd. The thought of why she should even look for him was on his mind; certainly she would not care for reporting him, would she? Sweat caressed his forehead at the thought that she could blackmail him for that destroyed wall – he would be doomed.

Minutes afterwards, the train stopped, opening its doors and Saitama was glad to finally leave the loud vehicle. Streams of people walked towards the mansion where the event would take place. This time the space of the ball was expended: the gardens and yard were decorated with seats, tables, buffets while small air ships completed the scene.

"They surely know how to impress people," Genos commented in awe, his eyes fixated on the decors, while Saitama silently agreed – even if he was more focussed on finding food, he was still wary of Lady Fubuki; hopefully she would not force him to pay for the repairs.

[A/N: Writing this while watching UEFA Euro is kind of exhausting, looking between two different screens with the intention of not missing any scores :'D (At least Germany and Belgium won, I wanted Ireland to succeed as well, but yeah :O)]

Reply at Reviews:

Pearlshipper4evar: Thank you :). I wanted to include Garou, but I am not cerain about (same goes for Boros), I will see where the storyline is going :) but there will definitely be some fights :3

553Colinm: Thx :)