Fubuki whistled. "Boy, you weren't kidding about the backpack."
"I do not exactly need to pack light." Genos set his bag on the floor of the genkan before sitting down to unlace his Converse.
They were alone for the moment. Tatsumaki was attending her associated-mandated awards show, and King was not ready to face the inside of a girl's apartment, even if it was also the Blizzard Group headquarters.
The Blizzard Group was still recovering.
"What do you even have in there?" she asked, genuinely curious. Most men were afraid to be seen with a handbag.
"Mostly notebooks and toes."
"...toes?"
"I go through a lot of toes."
"Then you should probably wear less hipster shoes."
"You're right," said Genos, in what would have been a normal voice if it wasn't so synthesized that it sounded like a pop song from the '90s. "I go through a lot of those too."
"Genos…" Fubuki put her hand on his shoulder. She had to stoop a little bit, because he was still sitting in the genkan, curling in on himself like some sort of mecha prawn, and straightening his hipster shoes by infinitesimal amounts.
"You really think he'll be a dick about it?" she asked.
Genos frowned. "Please do not compare sensei to the male genitalia."
"I mean, he kind of looks like-"
"Sensei would not be cruel." Genos frowned some more. "At least, not intentionally."
"How can you be so sure he hasn't caught feelings for you too?"
"I am sure," said Genos, with all the certainty of someone explaining the Earth was flat.
"There's something we need to tell you," said Tatsumaki.
Fubuki had sprung her from the awards show early, but Tats didn't seem to mind. Especially not after they picked up King. Fubuki liked to think she had the people skills for every occasion, but she wasn't certain this one would involve either people or skills.
It did involve an unseemly amount of physical exertion. The Blizzard Group driver had left them about a hundred meters out, when the wreckage got too rough for his sedan.
"If this is about how you two are dating now I already noticed," said Saitama. He took another bite of his banana. "You're not subtle."
"How did you notice that, but not-
"Hey, can this wait? I think someone stole Genos' spare toes."
"No one stole his toes," said Fubuki. "Genos is staying somewhere else for a while, pending your approval of his return."
"What? Is this about the hair plug thing again? He's so dramatic. I really don't care if-"
"It's not about the hair plug thing," said Tatsumaki, a little too gleefully.
Saitama took another bite. "Well what is it then?"
"Genos is in love with you."
He dropped the banana.
"I believe he goes into a little more detail in this letter." Fubuki raised the letter in question, scissored between two fingers. "Which he asked me to assure you was under twenty words."
"I'm honestly impressed you know that many," said Tatsumaki.
Saitama took the letter in his newly-freed hand and unfolded it.
Fubuki didn't know what it said, because she was a lady, but it had only taken Genos about ten minutes to write. Based on the number of notebooks in his backpack, which was only unimpressive when compared to the number of toes, Fubuki had expected a few hours of peace before having to play Cupid, or at least as far as the cyborg was concerned, Hermes.
"Saitama?" said King.
It was taking Saitama a lot longer to read the letter than it had taken Genos to write it.
"Are you okay?"
I'm sorry, Saitama.
The name scared him more than the apology.
Genos was always apologizing.
He may have gone along with whatever scam these two cooked up- King was probably going along with it as well- but Saitama could tell his core wasn't in it.
For someone with apparently no fear of losing, Genos was awfully fucking defeatist.
Genos had been to Dr. Kuseno's lab so many times that he longer needed his internal GPS to find it. This would be his last visit, for some time, at any rate.
He just had to stock up on toes.
Genos was leaving, as he had always planned to, eventually.
At least now he knew his sensei would not be alone. It had been a serious concern. Genos had been pulling his not-insignificant weight around the apartment for some time now, so it was not too conceited to believe that his absence would be missed, at least in the most practical of terms.
He hoped Fubuki was better at chores than she appeared.
