Author's note : This chapter is the longest one in the fic, so it took me quite a while to translate it all. And damn, translating is hard. I SWEAR IT'S SO MUCH BETTER IN FRENCH.

Thank you CloudFactory for beta-reading it, and thank you all for reading! And please tell me if you notice something weird, I'm trying to improve my english… ^^

oOo

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The sunset cast dark, elongated shadows to the ground. The sound of footsteps echoed through the desert street, startling a stray cat perched on a pile of garbage. It hissed and ran away.

Genos' golden eyes peered around attentively. This area was located just at the limit between Z city and D city. It wasn't that far from their apartment. By foot, it took them only half an hour to come here.

The metal shutters of the shops were all lowered, and they didn't cross a soul on the way except for a homeless man sleeping with a piece of cardboard as a blanket.

"So this is where you've been living before you moved to Z city…" Genos stated thoughtfully as they walked near a knocked over fire hydrant spurting out a geyser of water.

Ripped off electric wires dangled in the air and belched out a shower of sparks from time to time.

"Ah, yeah…" Saitama said looking around. "Back then it was a nice area with lots of great discount stores. It was starting to deteriorate when I left, but I never thought it could become that bad. Everything's destroyed and it looks like there's no one left."

They slowed down near a collapsed building. Hands plunged in his jean's pockets, Saitama stared at the ruins with his neutral face. Was he feeling nostalgic? Bitter? Sad? Bored? Or just mildly curious? Genos had no idea.

At Saitama's wrist was hanging the plastic bag containing his torn suit, and the setting sun's shimmering colors were being reflected by his bald skull.

"Here was the public bath I used to spend a lot of time in 'cause my landlady cut off the water in my apartment whenever I was late for paying the rent. The bath's manager was fond of me after I kicked a monster out of the water, he even sometimes gave me rice and vegetables."

Genos studied the rubbles, eyes narrowed.

"The outskirts of D city suffered a lot of damage when you destroyed the meteorite." Genos explained very tactfully. "Local people probably fled from danger. It would explain why there is no one in the streets."

"Shit, that sucks." Saitama winced. "Maybe the old man took off, too."

"Did he live in this street?"

Saitama nodded and gestured towards a building not so far away. They moved forward and came to a halt in front of the store. The metal shutter was half wrecked like a car crashed into it. A sheet of paper was taped there to announce the permanent closure.

"Ah, should've guessed." Saitama let out a disappointed sigh. "Last time I saw him, he told me he wanted to retire."

Genos noticed that the roof and part of the housefront at the first floor were destroyed. A canvas sheet veiled the inside and swished in the breeze.

"There's nothing else we can do, let's go home." Saitama said turning on his heels. "We'll use an ordinary fabric to remake the cape. Come on Genos, we'll stop on the way to that fishstore that makes a special offer on octopus. We can make takoyaki for diner tonight, ok?"

"Wait, sensei."

Puzzled, Saitama stopped and looked down at the cyborg's hand resting on his shoulder.

"I feel a presence inside," Genos explained. He concentrated so hard his eyes flashed. "There's someone spying on us behind that canvas sheet upstairs."

"You think it could be a monster? Not Panic The Bothering again, I hope?"

"No, the aura is weak. Very hard to detect."

It could be a stray cat as well as an ordinary human – he would have to ask doctor Kuseno to adapt his analytical capacity of energy to beings lacking superhuman strength.

"What if it's the old man?" Saitama suggested, looking hopeful. "Maybe he stayed after all…"

"There's only one way to be sure." Genos decided, closing his fist.

He knocked three times, his metallic hand colliding with the metal shutter and shattering the silence with a deafening clattering noise.

"Hey! Anyone in there?" Saitama called out using his hands like a megaphone.

The diffuse presence was moving, coming down to the ground flood, just behind the metal shutter. But they got no answer. Genos and Saitama shared a look, and Saitama cleared his throat, knocking in turn.

"Hey, old man! You there? It's me, Saitam-"

He didn't get to end his sentence – he probably hadn't restrained his own strength enough, or maybe the metal shutter just wasn't fixed well, because it fell down and collapsed on the floor in a cloud of dust. Saitama looked down, confused.

"… Oops."

"Who are you?" barked a harsh voice coming from the back of the room. "I've got no money and there's nothing to steal in there, you're wasting your time."

They looked up to see what once was the inside of a shop, now cluttered with cardboard boxes, cement bags and iron bars. An old man with a thick moustache glared at them from behind the counter.

"Don't you have better things to do than harass a retired old man crippled with arthritis?"

"Don't you recognize me, old man?"

The man narrowed his eyes, looking wary when Saitama stepped over the collapsed metal shutter to walk towards him.

"No. I have no acquaintance with thugs."

Despite his stoic and dignified attitude, a drop of sweat rolling down his brow gave away how scared he really was.

"But it's me! I used to live around here a few years ago and I was a hero as a hobby, remember? It's me, Saitama!"

"Impossible. You are bald. Saitama-kun had hair."

Genos felt his teacher bristle with indignation at the mention of his nonexistent hair.

"S'not my fault if I lost my damn hair!" The hero burst out, obviously extremely offended. "You of all people should get it, old man! Going bald ain't fun, and you know it!"

The old man raised an eyebrow and frowned, stroking his moustache. Then, without a word, he walked around the counter and stopped right in front of Saitama. Genos blinked when he grabbed his own hair and… took it off. It was in fact a wig he used to hide his own baldness. He reached and put the mop of hair on the hero's bald skull, searching intensely his face. Genos stayed silent and Saitama frowned, looking aghast. Genos more than once tried to picture his master with hair – he did quite a lot of sketches in his notebooks – but that wig looked more like Saitama had some dead cat on top of his head. However, it was enough to convince the old man who smiled affectionately, his moustache puffing out.

"Ah, Saitama-kun. You're the only one I ever revealed my little secret to. I didn't recognize you right away, sorry. But come on, make yourself at home, I'm going to make you some tea."

Saitama smiled, looking relieved. He took off the wig, dropped it on the counter and then followed the man to the back of the shop.

"Sorry about the shutter, old man. We'll fix it later."

They walked along a corridor that led to a small kitchen.

"Bah, don't worry about it. I wanted to replace it for a proper door anyway, now that I don't run the shop anymore. Take a seat, I'll put the kettle on."

Following Saitama's lead, Genos sat down on one of the western style chairs, while the tailor poured water in a kettle.

"I never thought I'd see you again, Saitama-kun. It's a long way from Z city and there's no bus or train in this area anymore. What are you doing here?"

"Oh, actually…"

Saitama opened his bag and put his folded suit on the table.

"… it's torn and I hoped you could sew it back with the same fabric."

The old man raised high his eyebrows and put a teapot and three cracked cups in front of Genos. Then he gently took the suit, unfolded it and examined the extent of the damage.

"You haven't changed at all." he smiled fondly. "Like old times, right? So you're still playing hero?"

"Yeah, well… I'm a professional hero, now. I do exactly the same stuff but I'm paid for it."

The old man nodded approvingly.

"To manage to tear such a high quality suit, that monster you fought must have been very strong, huh?"

"Mh, yeah, he was pretty tough." Saitama admitted, scratching pensively his cheek.

The water was boiling loudly, covering the quiet buzzing sound of the fridge. Every seven seconds precisely, a drop of water dripped into the sink. A small old television was perched on the microwave.

"Good, very good." the old man mumbled, taking the kettle. "And who is that young man you came with? He's very quiet."

"That's Genos." Saitama said flatly, pointing at him with his thumb.

Genos stiffened, realizing it had been impolite to come inside that man's house without introducing himself first. It was very rude and unworthy of Saitama's official disciple. Therefore, he bowed respectfully and announced with his best honorary and modest phrases:

"I am his devoted disciple. Pleased to meet you, sir. Thank you for allowing me in your house."

Pouring the boiled water in the teapot, the tailor raised his eyebrows, looking impressed. Then he sat down beside Saitama – their bald skulls shone together under the ceiling lamp.

"Oh, you even have a disciple, huh? So you've become someone important! Like that young hero always on tv, who has tons of fans? Amai Mask. He plays the main role in a drama I like a lot. Very talented. I never miss his shows."

Saitama pulled a face, and Genos knew he was thinking about all the hate mail he got every week while Amai Mask was adulated like a star.

"Er, not really, no…"

The old man smiled kindly and poured tea in the cups, one by one.

"Don't be so modest, Saitama-kun. It's an honor for me to be the official tailor of a hero, even if I'm retired now. That suit was the accomplishment of my whole career."

Genos wrapped the steaming cup between his metal fingers. The tea exhaled a distinct aroma of ordinary roasted green tea.

"Does this mean you're going to grant our humble request and sew back the suit?" the cyborg asked politely, dead serious.

Saitama sipped his tea with no care for the high temperature while the tailor thoughtfully blew on his tea to cool it down.

"Of course, I'll do it."

A childlike smile lit up Saitama's face, and Genos stared at him, his core pulsated an energy wave in his thorax.

"Thanks, old man! You're the best!"

"Unfortunately, I can't do it for the moment. Come back in a few months and I'll take care of it. As you may have noticed, I'm busy with rebuilding work."

The old man put down his cup with a sigh and smoothed down his moustache.

"You know of course that a meteorite exploded above Z city a while ago. Some heroes managed to stop it in time, but the projectiles devastated the area. The media talked about it a lot, and there's a project of a movie – I heard it'll be a romance drama. The main character will be played by Amai Mask. Anyway, my neighborhood too suffered from the damage, and my apartment was partly destroyed. I've been sleeping on the ground floor since."

Genos and Saitama shared a meaningful look, and the cyborg took a sip of tea to keep his composure. His artificial stomach's incinerator switched on to turn the liquid into energy.

"But… your insurance's gonna give you money and pay for the building work, right?" Saitama asked, looking embarrassed.

The tailor scowled and shook his head.

"No. The contract stipulates that I'm entirely covered in case of monsters attacks, thieves, murderers, wild animals, civil war, world war, bombing, alien attack, flooding, fire, storm, tsunami, plague of insects – I added this one after that invasion of mosquitoes last summer – and even living dead and ghosts, just in case. But no meteorites."

"Oh, bummer." Saitama said flatly, obviously more and more uncomfortable.

"All I managed to obtain, arguing that a meteorite could sort of be seen as an alien attack or a bombing, was for them to send me the material necessary for building work. But I didn't get any money, so I'll have to do it all by myself. That's why I won't have the time to take care of your suit right now, Saitama-kun."

Genos downed his tea in one go, and made the decision to rescue his teacher, eyes burning with determination :

"I can take care of your roof and your wall in exchange of what you will take care of Saitama-sensei's suit!"

Saitama and the tailor stared at him in exactly the same way – like they just remembered he was there – and blinked at the exact same second. The light of the lamp was reflecting on both of their bald head.

"But…" the old man hesitated. "That's hard work, son. You really think you'd be able to? It's going to take you months!"

Genos smiled confidently.

"I can do it within a day. I'm used to it. I have fixed sensei's roof and filled back the craters in his street many times. I'm quite good at it."

"I'll help him!" Saitama added with conviction. "Between the two of us, we'll finish it in two hours!"

The old man still looked hesitant. He stared at Saitama like he tried to estimate how serious they were, then he nodded.

"Alright then. If you manage to finish it all for tomorrow, the suit will be ready."

He glanced at the narrow window – it was already pitch black outside.

"But it's getting late, and the neighborhood isn't safe at this time. I'll be worried if I let you go. There are some unpleasant people wandering over at nightfall. It's too dangerous. I've got some spare futons, if you don't mind sleeping next to me. You can start working on the roof tomorrow morning while I sew back the suit, mh?"

Genos was about to point out that as professional heroes, they were more than able to defend themselves, but the tailor continued with a nostalgic smile :

"And it's been a long time since I had company for diner. Not since my wife passed away…"

He understood, seeing Saitama's pitying look, that they had no other choice than to accept.

Genos helped the tailor cook three big bowls of oyakodon while his teacher gave up trying to be useful after he accidentally broke an egg between his too powerful fingers. To indulge the old man who didn't want to miss an episode of his favorite drama, they also had to watch Amai Mask play the role of a detective with psychic powers who seduced another woman every ten minutes. Genos admitted at the end of the episode that he kind of liked it after all, and that he might watch the episode next week to see what happens. Which delighted the tailor, and made Saitama pull an annoyed face.

Genos hadn't spend such a… family-like evening in a very long time. A nostalgic feeling choked him when they laid down their three futons next to each other on the ground floor. They didn't have a lot of space between the cement bags, the counter and the metal shutter Saitama fixed back. Lying down in the dark under the blanket – he never got rid of this habit – Genos didn't set on his sleep mode right away. He stayed still and awake for a long moment. His golden eyes shone in the dark like a cat's, and the fans in his chest hummed quietly to regulate his temperature. With a muffled rustling, he turned his head just enough to watch the two men asleep next to him.

A hint of a smile floated on his artificial lips when he gazed at Saitama. His forearms folded under the pillow his face was buried on, his teacher was breathing with his mouth open and eyelashes shivering on his cheeks. A small puddle of saliva was beginning to grow on the pillowcase just beneath his mouth. Saitama was wearing a too large t-shirt their host lent him as a pajama. A bit further, the tailor was snoring and mumbling on his sleep.

Distant memories emerged, painful and nearly faded. His father had been a snorer too and Genos slept in his parents' room until he was ten. It was a familiar sound. Soothing.

Memories from that time were those of an ordinary human. They were blurry, without hard drives and savings like he was using today to store everything and increase his brain's activity. He realized he couldn't remember his parents' face or voice anymore, at least not precisely.

Genos swallowed back as best as he could a rush of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, and activated his sleep mode. His eyes switched off and his eyelids closed. His head was still turned toward Saitama, the nostalgic expression remaining on his synthetic face.

He didn't know precisely what woke him up but when the cyborg suddenly opened his eyes, it was still pitch black and his internal clock showed 03:22. He sat up sharply, the golden items in his eyes analyzing the empty space in the futon next to him. The tailor was still there, snoring loudly with his moustache fluttering with each breath but Saitama-sensei was gone. Did he go to the toilet? Usually he slept soundly and never left his bed at night to relieve himself, except that one time when they ate some not very fresh gyôzas – the promotion was a bit too appealing not to hide something – and sensei had to get up and lock himself in the WC for an hour because of his indigestion.

Genos pushed back his blanket and stood up as quietly as he could, focusing his energy sensors. He relaxed once he located his teacher's aura upstairs. He was barefoot and the metal clanked on the ground with each step, so it was unlikely Saitama wouldn't hear him climbing up the stairs. Nevertheless, when the cyborg arrived on the first floor and saw him from behind, sitting down with his legs hanging down the empty space of the destroyed wall, Saitama didn't stir nor acknowledge his presence. He had pushed back the canvas sheet, and it rustled softly at each gust of wind, like wings.

Wearing his boxer shorts and borrowed t-shirt, Saitama was gazing at the night full of stars, with a faraway but intense expression.

Genos silently sat down by his side, so close that their shoulders and hips touched. Then at last Saitama looked down from the sky and glanced placidly at him.

"Ah, I woke you up? Sorry."

Their legs were hanging a few meters above the pavement. The street was empty apart from a few stray cats chasing rats. Saitama was slowly swinging his legs, and their bare feet brushed – Genos suppressed a shiver that shot up his metal spine, artificial nerves transmitting the sensation to the brain. He shook his head.

"No. My sleep mode was completed." he lied. "But you, sensei, why are you awake? You only slept four hours, that's not even half your usual required amount of sleep."

Genos knew it because he kept detailed statistics of Saitama's sleep hours every night. Saitama looked back at the starry vault. There was no functional street lamp in this area, and if Genos didn't have his night vision on he would have trouble distinguishing his facial features.

"The old man was snoring too loud, I couldn't sleep." he explained calmly.

Genos frowned, thinking hard.

"Sensei needs to sleep. Do you want me to bring your futon up here? It would be quieter."

"Nah, it's too cold without walls and roof, it'd be like sleeping outside."

"I can keep you warm, Saitama-sensei!"

Proving his point, the cyborg increased drastically his general temperature, making his body glow between the metal plates.

"Ooooh," Saitama breathed, looking impressed and delighted. He put his hands near Genos' chest to warm them up. "So handy! With a blanket on top, you'd make a perfect kotatsu!"

"Good! I'm going to fetch your futon, your pillow and your blanket!"

When he tried to stand up, Saitama held him back by grabbing his wrist. The cyborg offered no resistance, knowing that his grip could accidentally rip his arm off again.

"No need to," Saitama said flatly, shrugging. "M'not sleepy anymore. Stay, you'll keep me company."

Genos relaxed and sat down properly. The quiet humming of his fans regulated his body temperature so the heat wouldn't become uncomfortable for Saitama. The light Genos emitted was reflected in glowing colors on his teacher's skull.

A few minutes went by in a peaceful silence while Genos stared at his teacher's profile out of the corner of his eye. Saitama seemed absorbed in his own thoughts and the contemplation of the stars. But just when he was about to break the silence and ask him a question about his past – he'd never get tired of Saitama's stories about the time before they met – the hero spoke first, in a soft and low voice :

"After I defeated the alien boss, I understood something…"

The cyborg turned his head to stare more intensely at his teacher. Saitama wasn't looking at him, he kept staring at the night sky with a distant sadness in his eyes.

"… I know for sure now that I'll never feel the exaltation of a real fight again."

Genos opened his eyes wide, his pupils contracting dramatically. Was sensei… was he confiding in him? Speechless, he watched him breathe a heavy sigh. Saitama's legs stopped swinging, and he brought his bare feet back on the edge. Chin rested on his knees, he still was avoiding his disciple's piercing stare.

"You know what he said to me, that alien? He searched the whole universe to find a worthy opponent to equal his strength. But all he managed to do was to distract me for a while. I didn't get out of breath, and I wasn't even in danger for one second."

"That's why you said you were disappointed…" Genos ventured, frowning. "That fight wasn't worthy of you. I understand."

"No, Genos. You don't."

Saitama finally turned his head to look at Genos square in the eye – and the void the cyborg saw in here was heartwrenching.

"If that guy was the most powerful in the universe, and I kicked his ass easily… it means there's no one left anywhere strong enough to challenge me."

"Sensei…"

With a bitter smile, Saitama looked away, the night wind making his shirt ripple against his chest.

"To be honest, I kinda suspected as much. It's been a while since I've felt anything facing a monster and I get more and more bored during fights. But I dunno, I was still hoping that someday, maybe, a monster would show up and be strong enough to take my punches and make me feel something. Even just a little bit. It's been a year since I lost forever the only thing that gave my life a meaning at a time when even the idea of dying seemed less boring than living. I lost my reason for living and didn't even realize it. Or rather I refused to admit it until that fight against Boros. If I had known it wouldn't last forever, I'd have savored every second of my first fights. If I had known I'd become too strong, I wouldn't have trained so hard. And now, when I think that I'll never again… Hey, Genos?! No, wait, don't cry!"

With a panicked face, Saitama looked around – in vain – for something to wipe off the dark oiled tears flowing from the cyborg's eyes.

"I'm so sorry, sensei," Genos said in a choked sob, his head lowered. "I didn't realize how much you're suffering…"

"Don't say nonsense. I should be the one apologizing. I wouldn't have said anything if I had known you'd get so upset about it."

Saitama used his bare hands to try and wipe the stream of tears. The warm touch made Genos shiver and he cried even harder. Those too powerful hands that could destroy the strongest monsters in the universe with only one punch softly caressed his artificial cheeks. The black oil soiled his teacher's fingers and dripped down his wrists, his arms, his elbows.

"I'm sorry, sensei. You'll get dirty because of me."

"For an armed to the teeth avenger cyborg, you're way too sensitive, you know…" Saitama sighed with a hint of a smile. "Stop crying and forget about it, okay?"

Genos nodded weakly and tried to hold back his tears until he looked composed enough to reassure his teacher. Relieved, Saitama patted his back with a joke to lighten the mood.

But Genos had no intention to forget.

As they chatted more happily under the canvas sheet billowing in the wind until dawn chased away the dark, Genos made himself a promise.

To give Saitama back a reason for living would now be his priority mission.