"Let's get one thing st- uh, correct," said King. "We weren't trying to out you. We're really sorry if we did, Demon C- uh, Genos."

"If you did, we would not be having this conversation," said Genos. He would most likely be packing his bags. Well, bag.

The King Engine increased in tempo, and Genos realized he had accidentally threatened someone again.

He sighed, the sound lost in the rush of hot air from his vents. The Starbucks in T-City was doing a seasonal special on Hokkaido-Style Corn Cream Frappuccinos, but with all the steam Genos put out, he was basically drinking corn soup. With chocolate sauce.

"Saitama-sensei had behaved normally enough this morning. I do not believe he noticed… whatever it is you were attempting to accomplish."

For a moment that morning, when Genos was instructed to abandon his low bow, he had prepared himself for the worst: Saitama-sensei was rejecting, not only the disciple's sign of deference to his sensei, but the disciple itself.

"We were trying to help you out," said King. "I think."

"You and Baldy need all the help you can get," added Tatsumaki. "It's not like either of you have any dating experience."

"Of course I do not have any dating experience," said Genos, "but I have watched television."

"Oh," said King.

"Sensei only watches anime, so he doesn't know any better." Genos lowered his voice and his head. "I did not intend to initiate anything. I did not initiate most of it, except for the head patting, and that is very hard to resist. I would never take advantage of Saitama-sensei. I only do what he is comfortable with, but if you tell him, he will never be comfortable around me again. He said it has gotten better lately. The emptiness. I believe it is depression. For his sake, if not mine. Please do not tell him."

A silence followed his disjointed speech, which no one seemed inclined to break. Genos sucked up some corn soup and waited. Eventually Tatsumaki obliged.

"You cured his depression and you still don't think you've got a shot?"

"There is no cure for depression," Genos said sternly. "All I can provide is my companionship and whatever help my sensei will allow. You were right: He has no one else. That is not the same as wanting no one else."

"Either way, you two are pretty close, right?" asked Fubuki, waving a hand. Her manicure was starting to chip. "Even if he didn't reciprocate, it's not like Saitama would kick you out."

"I would have to leave the country at the very least."

"What? Why?"

"The temptation to spy on him would be too great."

Fubuki tapped out, literally tapping the table and putting her head in her hands. Tatsumaki kicked King under the table, which would have been more surreptitious if he hadn't yelped.

"What if he likes you back?"

"That is not possible. Sensei is above such things. He is certainly above me."

"You don't know that." King looked distressed, scars wrinkled from his furrowed brow, reminding Genos of the Monster logo more than ever.

Genos played the audio clip he had recorded from his first cooperative battle with Saitama-sensei. Tatsumaki's head whipped around like she was looking for the source, but even that could not bring a smile to his face today.

He played it again.

"I'm not into dudes."

"I recorded this when Saitama-sensei was propositioned by an illegally-enhanced gorilla," said Genos, eliminating the threat on instinct when Tatsumaki did a spit take. The smell of roasted corn filled their immediate area.

"No fire in the Starbucks," recited the barista manning the drinks counter, and Genos apologized. Again.

"It sounds like there were a lot of reasons for him to say that," said Tatsumaki.

"I do not believe sensei is homophobic," said Genos, "but that is not the same as being comfortable with homosexuality, especially not when you are the target of it. If he ever looked at me the way he looks at Puri Puri Prisoner... I could not bear it."

Genos knew he was a teenager, and one with a tendency towards dramatics, even by the standards of that demographic, but he also knew his limits better than most.

"Uh, yeah, there are also a lot of reasons for him to look at Prisoner like that," said Tatsumaki.

Genos only shook his head, as if unwilling to argue with her even though that was one of his favorite pastimes.

"Please do not tell him," he said again.

"Okay," said Fubuki, finally raising her head, "Okay, but hear me out: What if we told him?"

"Did you not-"

"No, but like, for you."

Tatsumaki let out an unladylike little snort. "What is this? Grade school?"

"Haven't we interfered enough?" asked King.

"Hear me out. What if we told Saitama how you feel and how you're too chickenshit to tell him yourself. That way, you wouldn't have to see his reaction, and we could tell you whether or not it's safe to go home. I mean, he's gonna' figure it out eventually. Better to rip off the Band-Aid, right?"

"I would not know," said Genos.

"Do you really want to keep sitting on that time bomb?"

Genos had not thought of it that way. Certainly, his master was uninterested to the point of inobservance in matters of the metaphorical heart, but he was not unintelligent. If others were already interfering, it would only be a matter of time before this secret was no longer a secret.

Much like KFC's eleven original herbs and spices. They had added a twelfth, but it went viral, in more ways than one.

Coke's secret formula was no longer secret. The Big Mac's Special Sauce was no longer special. It was the Too Much Information Age. Not even the Illuminati could keep a secret anymore. Genos had incinerated some of them just last week.

"It would be necessary to pack my things in advance," he said eventually.

Fubuki waved a hand. "Fine. How much can you have? Weren't you some vengeful nomad thing before you before your sensei domesticated you?"

"I carried all my things on my back."

"So you can just shove them in my closet for an afternoon."

"I think you are underestimating the size of my backpack."

"I think you're underestimating the size of my closet," she countered. "You'll need somewhere to stay anyway, right? Saitama strikes me as a slow thinker."

"You would allow me to stay with you?" asked Genos.

Dr. Kuseno did not know of the… situation. It would be better not to involve him. He might decide to make Genos capable of blushing after all, and that had been a hard-won battle.

"What are friends for?"

"Friends?"

"You don't think we're doing this for fun do you?" asked Fubuki.

Tatsumaki raised her hand. "I am."

"...Very well," Genos agreed, even though it went against his common sense and probably some of his coding.

"That settles that," she said. "Now we can shop."

"We're really going shopping?" asked King. "There's a new game I want to buy. Uh, but it's a dating sim. I don't know if that would be very considerate of me, uh, considering-."

"It can only help," said Fubuki, standing up and handing their garbage to King, most likely because she knew Genos would incinerate it. Again. "First, we're finding a hairdresser. All this steam is giving Genos an afro, and I doubt his sensei is into that."

"He did not seem to approve last time," Genos agreed. "Although I do not know if it was due to aesthetic distaste or resentment."

"Last- Forget it. This time, you're getting an undercut."

"You are going to punch me? I would advise against it. You would damage your manicure further. Probably your phalanges as well."

"Oh, thanks for reminding me. King, you want a manicure too? The massages can be great for… repetitive-motion stress." She grinned.

"Do I have to make small talk?" he asked, King Engine picking up speed.

"Is that why your hair's so long? Don't worry, the nail techs are all foreign. They only speak English."

"Okay," he said, but the King Engine was still thundering along, and Genos didn't know why until he added, "Tatsumaki, you're coming too, right?"

If they started making out, Genos was going to self-destruct.