Liminality was a lynchpin of the horror manga Saitama liked to devour, but his disciple's eyes were the second most beautiful thing he had ever seen, after a coupon for 95% off Kobe beef.

Genos had irises like eighteen carat gold set against pitch black sclera. Only his pupils were the proper color. They even dilated like normal pupils, sometimes growing so wide that only a ring of gold was visible. Saitama never expected it to disappear entirely.

"Are you bleeding?" he asked in slightly more urgent tones than normal. "From your eyes?"

"No," said Genos. "It's oil. I am a cyborg, sensei."

"Oh," said Saitama. "That's still bad right?"

"What?"

"Leaking oil."

Genos cocked his head to one side, which made him look like the lovechild of Hachi and that little girl from Ringu. Saitama felt his own face soften. It didn't have far to go.

"Not as bad as leaking blood," Genos said eventually.

"Doesn't it mean you're brok- Ah, shit. You're leaking more."

"It is normal, sensei. I cry oil."

Genos tried to wipe the tears away with his sleeve only to apparently recall that he did not have sleeves. He looked like he was about to start leaking again, so Saitama grabbed a towel from the kitchen.

He handed it to Genos, who accepted it with only a couple of apologies.

"So what's wrong? It's supposed to be twenty words, not twenty questions. Oh, but you can use as many words as you like."

"I do not know the right ones." Genos frowned. "I am simply… sad that Saitama-sensei is sad."

Saitama had not considered that possibility. He was still considering it several minutes later when Genos started waving a metal hand in front of his face.

Before he could think any better of it, Saitama used the hand to gently leverage Genos into his arms.

The cyborg went even stiffer than usual. "S- Sensei?"

"What?" Saitama had always hated blushing, but it was with a special and fiery passion since he lost his hair.

"...Aren't I heavy?" asked Genos, a little muffled.

"Oh," Saitama pulled back a bit. "Oof?"

When Genos laughed, his eyes lit up. Saitama decided to send Dr. Kuseno a discount gift basket as soon as he got the secret lab's address.


"Okay," said Fubuki. "So we're done here, right? Now you can kiss, and make up, and start planning the wedding. I'm free in June, but only for one and a half days."

"Wait, what?"

"Don't expect me to help you with the planning. I feel like Genos would be a whole Bridezilla situation."

"I- I don't- I'm not-"

"Oh, dear," Fubuki realized. "We have more work cut out for us than I thought. You poor, sweet summer child. You actually believe it."

Saitama took a step forward, accidentally smushing his own banana. He didn't blink, even though he must have noticed. He was wearing Crocs.

"Believe what?"

"That you're not into dudes."

"Huh? I'm not wh-" Saitama gave a little shrug. "Whatever. I've never really been into anyone."

"Well, he's into you," said Tatsumaki. She had been levitating ever since they entered Z-City, in an apparent attempt to avoid touching anything. "He seemed pretty sure you were going to ghost him though. Like maybe literally."

"Don't be dramatic, Tats." Fubuki threw the banana peel at her, although of course Tatsumaki blocked it. "He does think you're going to kick him out though."

"You aren't," said King. "Are you?"

"That's none of your business," snapped Saitama, and King wilted until Tatsumaki patted him on the head. Maybe there was another reason she kept levitating.

"Well, we made it our business," she said.

"I need to talk to him," Saitama muttered, running a hand through nothing. "He's at his doc's, right?

"Who?" asked King.

"That guy from the hot pot riot- I mean party," said Fubuki. She turned back to Saitama. "I'll tell you where he is if you answer my question."

"I said it's none of your-"

"Not about your feelings," she said. "Ew. I want to know why he goes through so many toes."

Before he could answer, Fubuki's phone rang. Rinbu Revolution. That was Lily, who knew better than to call when she was with her sister unless it was an emergency. Not that Fubuki would reprimand Lily. She was just more liable to be crabby.

"What is it?"

"Demon Cyborg left. He took his um… backpack? I don't think he's coming back. I'm sorry, I tried to stop him, but he um..."

Fubuki's lips thinned, in spite of her hundred-dollar lip plumper. "What did he do this time Lily? If he gassed you again, I swear-"

"He glued my feet to the genkan."

Fubuki cracked up.

"It's not funny, Bu! Those were my favorite Yamamotos!"

She caught her breath. "I'm sorry, Lily. At least getting glue trapped by Demon Cyborg is a decent party story. Thanks for letting me know. I might be late tonight."

Lily hung up, grumbling something about expensing new shoes.

"Well, Loverbot was at my apartment," Fubuki announced, sliding the phone back into her cleavage, "but apparently that is a thing of the past."

"He'll have to go to his doc's eventually, right?" asked Saitama.

"Isn't that supposed to be some sort of secret lab?" she asked pointedly. Information about S-Class heroes was still information about S-Class heroes.

"Somehow I think we'll manage," scoffed Tatsumaki. "We are S-Class heroes. Oh, and Fubuki."

Fubuki flipped her off.

"I know where it is," said Saitama. "We had to go after the whole Monster Union thing. Ah, shit, I forgot about the gift basket! All I have right now are cup noodles and bananas. Fruit. That's practically classy, right?"

"Not if it's only bananas," said Fubuki. "That is the opposite of classy."

Saitama ducked out of sight before reappearing with several bunches of bananas bundled up in a white cloth. He slung it over his back, like some sort of colorblind Santa Claus, before disappearing into the night. One moment, he was standing in his own doorway, completely blocked by heroes. Then Fubuki literally blinked, and King was several feet away.

"Did he push you?" asked Tatsumaki, sounding some sort of cross between furious and confused.

"No," King assured her. "He picked me up. He was very gentle."

Fubuki used the distraction to sneak Tatsumaki's phone from her garter belt. It was time to call for reinforcements.