"I am home, sensei!" Genos opened the door to the small apartment, stepping into the narrow hallway with his usual vigor. No response. He turned his head and inspected the area.
The air was quite warm, no doubt caused by the afternoon sun for the past few hours or so. Unsurprisingly, the familiar high-pitched buzz of a small electric fan could be heard from the living room. The cyborg's master, although completely immune to any damage extreme temperature would normally inflict on humans, found mild noon heat completely and utterly dreadful. The cyborg once suggested having an air-conditioner built into the house, but Saitama refused him. He said that succumbing to the pleasure of air-cons led to a weak mind, and not one day had gone by without the cyborg drilling this mantra into his head. The buzzing of the electric fan was a symbol of his master's mental strength and fortitude.
It had also been on sale.
Genos heard other noises trickling into the hallway, too: the faint sound of a reporter on TV, occasional ruffling of feet against futon, and, most obviously, arguing. Lots of arguing.
"Stop complaining about the story!" a shrill, female voice blared out from around the corner. "Who cares if each volume ends in a cliffhanger, huh?! It'll be finished eventually!"
"You don't know that!" the cyborg's master replied, just as loud. "There are a lot of manga that are on hiatus 'till who knows when! Ending stuff in cliffhangers makes those breaks double-bad!"
"Psh! Then find something else to do! Complaining about that small of a matter is stupid!"
"You're complaining right now!"
They seemed to have been going on long before he'd come into the house — and as such, his greeting went unheard. The cyborg had half a mind to interrupt the conversation and berate the psychic, but as he passed through the kitchen, a more pressing matter presented itself. His attention was diverted.
Inside the small cooking space, it seemed that the fridge wasn't fully closed. Many white plastic handles and green leaves peeked out from inside. That was unusual. Had a monster gotten into their apartment somehow? Some kind of leafy-legged, plastic-faced creature seemed to have entered without the two arguing heroes hearing.
Genos promptly went to inspect it. Readying his hand blasters, he opened the fridge door as quickly as possible. His plan was to catch it off-guard.
What greeted him was Saitama's conquest.
"Sensei seems to have procured an exceptional amount of vegetables and milk," the cyborg muttered to himself, wide-eyed. In his time staying at his master's apartment, Genos had never seen such a haul. "Incredible…!"
.
"How could you like that last chapter?!" Saitama said, sitting across the esper. After the bald man returned from shopping, the two sat back down on the small center table of the living room. Their bowls from earlier that morning had yet to be placed in the sink. "Other than the cliffhanger," the baldy explained, hands upturned. "There was, like, no character development!"
"Don't go waving that term around like you know what it means! It's obviously building up to the actual meat of things!" the esper said, crossing her arms. "Needing to wait doesn't make it bad, dum-dum."
"Pfbfhbt." Saitama turned around and watched TV again.
Tatsumaki picked up the manga she was reading. After the esper finished the spirally horror story, she looked around for something else to read. Rummaging through the baldy's shelves quickly informed the girl that Saitama's tastes were very… blunt. Lots of action, lots of thrills — lots and lots of boooooring. Eventually, she stuck with one about samurai from a long time ago. The art looked nice, but the characters were noticeably less… atomic than the ones she knew.
Of course, the baldy often butted in while she was reading. They'd talk (well, argue) for a few minutes before she angrily picked the book back up. After a few back-and-forths about the nuances of comics, the bald hero finally decided to give up. He figured that watching TV was a better use of his time than trying to talk to the esper.
Admittedly, the type of chatter they were making was better than their exchanges before. It wasn't much better, but she didn't look like she wanted to kill him anymore.
There were snippets of silence as Saitama flitted through channels, and that's when he heard it. There was rustling in the kitchen.
"Genos? You there?" Saitama began as he stepped towards the cooking space.
"Ah, yes!" the cyborg stood up so that his master could see him. "I am home, sensei. And it seems you have been busy while I was away."
The man tilted his head.
"You mean Tats over there?" he said with a small smile, making sure the esper couldn't hear. "Yeah, I left her alone for a bit, and it really helped her calm down. Her taste in manga sucks."
"I meant the sale, sensei," Genos corrected him. "I see you have acquired an exceptional amount even without the esper's help — the most I have seen so far! It seemed an optimal gain, but after some arrangement, there still seems to be more room in the refrigerator."
"Yeah, I managed to buy everything I could carry," the bald man said. "I'm surprised you fixed the stuff up so well."
The cyborg looked down, frustrated. "Had I been there, I would have been able to help you carry more and fill the refrigerator completely. My apologies, sensei!"
"Don't worry about it," Saitama said, scratching his stomach. "Hey, how about we make snacks after you're done with that?"
Genos nodded vehemently. "Yes, sensei!"
The cyborg saluted as his master walked back into the living room.
.
The bald man passed by the reading esper and went back to watch TV. He clicked carelessly through the channels, boredly switching from ad-filled show to ad-filled show. For a while, a cactus documentary caught his eye, but the commentary was a little too sharp for his tastes.
The remote tipped and tapped as Saitama continued to be unimpressed. Little snippets of shows popped up like a slideshow: an anime about some hero school, another documentary — this time about octopi, some cartoon about cockroaches, news about Tatsumaki, a knife-selling channel, basketball—
Wait.
Those knives were on sale.
The bald man quickly clicked back to the previous channel, waiting to see how much money he'd save if he called their number on the phone.
"Oi, baldy!" a certain green-haired esper flicked his shiny head. "I heard my name on the TV! Go back!"
Saitama rubbed the back of his head numbly.
"I thought you were reading," he said, not looking away from the TV. There! If he called now, he would save a few hundred yen! 8-7001-565—
The remote glowed green, and the screen cut to the news.
"… Tornado of Terror seems to have been found by the S-Class heroes! Her location is currently undisclosed, but—"
"NOOO!" the bald man clicked back to the previous channel, but the number was gone. Defeated, he clicked back to the news. "Ugh…"
The newscaster continued. "… The Association will send further details about the matter as soon as they can, but rest assured, Tatsumaki will be able to do hero work again. Our Ranked 2 hero will continue protecting the world!"
Tatsumaki nodded slowly. Everything seemed to be going decently. All that she needed to do was wait until she had recovered and everything would go back to normal. She'd leave the cramped little apartment and have the Association provide her with accomodations until she had new housing.
The remote glowed green, and the knife show returned.
.
Genos stepped out of the kitchen, rolling his robotic shoulders.
"Sensei, about the snacks you mentioned… what exactly will we be making?"
The bald man turned his head.
"Oh. Uhh, eggs again, I guess?"
"When are we not having eggs?" Tatsumaki interjected.
"When we run out…?" the baldy replied. "Hey, what's with that look on your face!? You want some candies or something? That's unhealthy, you know."
The green-haired girl frowned. "Stop answering your own rhetoricals! I'm saying that eating eggs all day until you don't have any is stupid!"
"There's no other actual food in the fridge," Saitama shrugged. "So you're just gonna have to deal with it."
"Are there no restaurants anywhere nearby?" asked the esper.
"Sure, but if you can't tell, this household is kind of into not wasting money," the baldy said. "And as far as I can tell, you don't have a wallet."
"Ugh," the esper rolled her eyes and went back to reading her manga.
Saitama went to make eggs with his disciple.
.
"Sensei," Genos said, whisking eggs with mechanical precision. "You seem to be bothered by Tornado."
"Kinda," Saitama replied.
"She seems able to move around without assistance anymore," the cyborg continued. "Why not just ask her to leave?"
Saitama heated a pan in silence, the slow sizzling of the oil wafted in his ears. His disciple's question didn't go unheard, but he didn't quite know what his answer would be.
If he was being completely honest, the company wasn't really nice. Tatsumaki was loud, grumpy, and stubborn as hell. She kept refusing his help, liked being left alone, and insisted that she was fine even though she wasn't. Why was he putting up with her?
Was it because she always had that worried look on her face when she thought no one was looking? Was it because arguing was better than doing nothing? Was it because he felt sorry for the girl?
No. Not really. Whatever the reason was, it wasn't that simple. It was there — a shadow of another shadow at the back of his mind — but frankly, he couldn't be bothered to find out what it was.
Genos handed him the bowl in silence. Its whisked contents were bubbleless, and the consistency was absolutely perfect. The cyborg assumed that his question had gone unheard. It wasn't that important of a matter, anyway.
"I'm letting her stay until she's fully recovered," Saitama blurted, taking the contents and pouring it carefully on the pan. "That's it, I guess."
"Hmm," the cyborg looked at his master. The bald man's expression was almost completely the same, but his eyebrows seemed to be furrowed; they were just a few millimeters lower than usual.
Genos made a mental note to regularly check on his master's mental wellbeing until the esper left.
Saitama talked a little with Genos about the best way to cook the eggs, followed his disciple's recommendations, and after a few minutes…
"Eggs are ready!" Saitama called out. They looked appetizing — more so than his previous work. It had been around a week since the baldy had asked Genos to teach him how to make eggs properly. It didn't turn out too well in the beginning, but the cyborg's efforts had finally paid off. It seemed the student had finally been able to teach the master something.
"Excellent work, sensei!" he said, a small smile gracing his features. His master gave him a thumbs-up.
"Yay…" the green-haired esper was much less enthusiastic.
It wasn't as if she didn't like eggs, though.
.
.
"Heh, heh."
The old man chuckled as he watched a familiar Association member climb the many hundred steps up to his dojo. It was always a joy watching the corporate, business types doing things they weren't used to. The workers usually reached the top stripped of the… 'unique attitude' that graced many people of their standing, which was why he was thankful of his imposing entranceway.
They could honestly use the cardio, too.
"Huff… huff…" the worker took burdened breaths, holding his knees to keep himself standing.
As if the events during the past two days weren't enough, what with a city's destruction, the angry threats from the esper that supposedly saved it, the outburst of Sitch during his report, and just about everything else, he had to walk up a thousand godforsaken steps, too?! His bespectacled colleague wasn't even assigned to Z-City, either! The world was turning completely crazy!
As the previously-nervous-but-now-mostly-aggravated man went to knock on the dojo, the thin sliding door opened. It seemed the hero he was looking for had already expected him. With all the noise he'd made walking up, he wasn't at all surprised.
"Ah, you made it," Silverfang smiled under his moustache. "What can I do for you, young man?"
"S-Sir… haahh… Silverfang," the man held up a hand, trying to catch his breath. "Huff… ahem! We have found Tatsumaki! She is safe, and has informed the Association as such!"
Bang's eyebrows rose. To the worker, it was a little gesture of relief. He had seen a few of the old man's rare interactions with the esper, and it seemed he was one of the only heroes she respected. Undoubtedly, Bang felt the same — and would be thankful to hear that his esteemed colleague was safe.
Of course, reality was different; the gears turned quite differently in the martial artist's head. There were only so many ways that the Association could have gotten that information, the hero knew. And there was only one outcome that made sense with what he'd seen of the esper the day before.
She was with a certain bald man in Z-City.
"My, what great news!" Bang said wholeheartedly. He patted the worker's back, nudging him away just the tiniest bit. If his suspicions were true, then it was in his best interests to check up on them as soon as possible. If those two got into an argument… well…
Despite the growth it could bring upon the two heroes, Bang wasn't sure if it was a good idea to bring the two together.
"Er… that's not the only reason I came, sir," the man said. "There's also, uhh, this."
He rummaged around a little bag he'd toted all the way up to the dojo, bringing out an envelope from inside. Bang received it and promptly inspected it. It was a little creased from the man's journey up the mountain, but still presentable.
"Hmm," Bang opened it.
"It's an invitation, sir," the man explained in summary. "As a thank you from the Association, and a celebration of Tatsumaki's… safe return. A ticket and address have been provided in the envelope."
"How thoughtful," the Rank 3 hero nodded in appreciation. He could really use a little relaxation after everything that happened yesterday. It had been too long since the martial artist had taken a well-deserved break.
"I'll be going then, Sir Silverfang," the man said, interrupting Bang's musing.
"Mmm, so soon?" the old man raised an eyebrow. "And after all that effort?"
The nervous worker looked away awkwardly.
"Well, it's quite important, sir," he said. "You're not the only hero in Z-City, after all."
"You're talking about Genos, I presume?"
"Er, yes! Him, and, uhh," he fumbled inside his bag, bringing out three envelopes. "Some guy named 'Saitama?'"
"He was with us during the meeting. I believe he participated in the fight against the aliens," Bang said thoughtfully. He noted the other envelope — the worker hadn't revealed who it was for. "Say…"
The martial artist trailed off.
"Uhh, say… what, sir?" the worker gulped.
"Why don't you leave the envelopes to me, young man?" the hero smiled. "I'd love for an excuse to meet up with a few colleagues."
"I-I'm afraid the contents of each individual envelope is highly confidenti—"
Bang put an arm around the nervous man. It was iron-hard, full of scars, and tight. It scared the living daylights out of the tired worker.
"C'mon, what's so important that the Rank 3 hero can't know about?" the martial artist said lightheartedly. He ignored the sweat pooling around his guest's neck. "You can trust me."
"Ah— umm— w-well, I…"
"Trust me," Bang repeated.
The worker from the esteemed Hero Association had witnessed the destruction of a city. He had been on the tail end of Tatsumaki's threats. He had been able to walk up to the dojo with a thousand steps.
Silverfang's friendly smile somehow felt worse than all those combined.
.
.
"See? It's not all that bad," Saitama said to a puffed-cheeked Tatsumaki. The small table was empty, and Genos had taken the dishes to the sink. The sun had sunk lower into the sky, and the room was lit in golden-hour light.
"Geh," she let out her breath. "It'll get bad soon enough."
"Yeah, yeah," the bald man scooted around to watch the TV. "You finished it, either way."
.
Knock, knock, knock.
Saitama sighed and stood up to get the door. He waved a dripping-gloved Genos back to wash the dishes.
"Don't open the door fully!" Tatsumaki said. She'd found a hiding spot around the corner of the hallway.
"Yeah, sure," Saitama raised an eyebrow. "That's how people always answer the door."
The baldy opened the door just a little.
"Unless you're selling knives," the baldy said, peeking through the small gap. "I'm not buying."
"Young Saitama!" To the baldy's surprise, a familiar martial-artist greeted him. "Care to let me in?"
"Ah! Hey, Bang." Saitama gestured for him to come inside. Tatsumaki probably wouldn't mind. "Don't be too long, though."
"Of course, of course. I just came to check in on… ahh." The man paused, seeing the little green-haired girl peep from across the hall. "It seems Tatsumaki is here, then."
The girl stepped out of her hiding place. "Silverfang?! Who told you I was here?"
"You don't need to worry yourself," he said, putting up a hand. "I've come with good news, actually."
He held out three envelopes for Saitama to take. The baldy opened the one addressed to him.
"Funny, really," Bang said, walking to the esper. "An Association worker passed by to tell me that you were fine, and—"
The girl interrupted him. "What?! The Association told you where I was? Who else knows?!"
"Just me," Bang said reassuringly. Needless to say, Tatsumaki wasn't reassured. She knew how people acted when she was about to get angry — they lied. Always.
The esper's mind flooded with thoughts. Had those two idiots from that morning told on her? Did Sitch reveal her situation to the heroes? Did they know her location?! They must have, for Bang to have found them!
"Ugh!" Tatsumaki felt a vein throb in her temple. She knew she couldn't have trusted the two fools who'd come to her hiding place. If she hadn't answered, then she would have had time to recover and come to the place herself! What had they said; who had they told?
Did Fubuki find out?
"Who. Else. Knows?" the esper glowed green, her bandages falling to the ground. The tightly-knotted headband that Saitama tied unfurled and tore into pieces. The ground began to shake.
Bang's eyes widened. He'd seen Tatsumaki annoyed — he thought he'd seen Tatsumaki angry.
But the look on her face wasn't normal. Her eyes were filled with fire.
"Believe me, the information was highly confidential," he said, reaching for the girl's shoulder. She swerved violently away and began walking to the door. "I, hey— Tatsumaki, where are you going?!"
She turned around, the floor cracking under her power.
"I'm gonna find those two snitches. And twist them."
"What?! Tatsumaki, you can't—"
"This is none of your business."
Bang felt a massive weight around him, gripping his body like a straightjacket. He couldn't move.
Genos, who was about to intervene, was promptly brought to his knees by psychic energy. The floor cracked further beneath his weight.
"Stay here until I've talked to Sitch," Tatsumaki said, eerily quiet. "If you so much as step one foot outside of this apartment… I'll know."
The esper blasted the door open with psychic power.
And felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Oi, stop with the psychic business." Saitama said, unaffected by the gravity increase. "You're ruining my house."
"Stay out of this!" the girl said. "Or I'll—"
"You know, if you let Bang finish what he was saying," Saitama said, ironically not letting the esper finish what she was saying. "You might not have come to your own conclusions."
Saitama held out a piece of paper from the envelope Bang had given him.
.
The reason Bang had come to the little apartment was mostly out of apprehension. He had a feeling that the two stubborn heroes would have a difficult time getting along, and that any argument would cause quite a bit of commotion for a lot of people.
From their interactions in the Association and beside the ruins of the ship, they didn't seem to be able to last too long talking to each other. Saitama seemed quite fine with it, but that was when he had the option of ignoring the girl. Living with Tatsumaki was a different matter altogether, and that fact worried Bang as soon as he left the ruins of A-City just the day before. The two felt like a ticking time bomb, and Bang just knew they needed a little more guidance to iron out their differences enough to work together and hopefully not explode. But his being there seemed to almost have caused it. As soon as he felt the psychic gravity push down on him, he realized he'd made a mistake.
Seeing the esper taking the note and reading it, the tired old martial artist realized that they didn't need his help, after all.
.
"What's the point of this?" Tatsumaki smacked Saitama's forehead with the paper. "How is this supposed to calm me down?!"
"It's an invitation," Saitama said. "Sent by the Association."
"So?"
"It was addressed to us."
Tatsumaki rolled her eyes. "Stop acting all smart! Spit it out!"
"That's how Bang knew where we were, duh. The address is right here."
He was about to show his proof, but their address wasn't there.
"Wait, no, that's not right…" Saitama said, looking confused. The esper tapped her foot as the baldy muttered to himself. Was he just lying to stall for time? "I know I saw it somewhere…
"Ah! Here it is!" the baldy put the paper down and showed the psychic a torn envelope with the name 'Saitama' written on it. "It was on the envelope! Bang could have just gotten the envelopes from that Association member he was talking to and found us from there! See? Nobody told on you, and more importantly, no need to break the floor."
Tatsumaki turned to Silverfang.
"Is that true?" she asked him. The hero nodded slowly.
"Just about," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Then everything is fine," Tatsumaki said, breathing her own relief-filled sigh. She closed the door and walked back into the hallway.
The esper dropped to the floor, exhausted.
She promptly fell asleep.
.
"Sorry for all the trouble I've caused," said Bang. "I'll handle the costs for the floor. And the doorway."
"I'm counting on it," Saitama replied, nodding. "Next time you visit, maybe don't bring good news, okay?"
The old martial artist chuckled as he opened the door. He paused for a moment, then turned back around to face the baldy.
"By the way, how did you know I actually did all that?" Bang asked. As far as he knew, Saitama wasn't the perceptive type. Was he mistaken about that, too?
"Anything for my floor," the baldy replied. "Anything."
Oh.
"Well— ehrm, I'll be off then," Bang patted the bald man's shoulder. "I'll see you soon."
The door shut quietly.
"Sensei," Genos asked while the two walked back into the living room. "Do you not think it is unwise to keep the esper here? If she has another outburst, it might not only be the floor that is damaged."
"She's had it rough, Genos," Saitama said. "And besides, there's no way she wouldn't be relaxed after reading the Association's invitation."
The cyborg frowned.
"Wouldn't a public celebration be more stressful, sensei?"
"Who said anything about a public celebration?" Saitama said, picking up the paper he dropped a while ago.
.
"We're going to a hot spring!"
.
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I'm so, so sorry for taking this long to update! I have no excuses — turns out I'm just really lazy sometimes. Also… writing's kinda hard. Please stay tuned for the next one, though! It'll be hot. And springy. Get it? Heh.
.
I need sleep.