Saitama can’t believe what he’s hearing right now. Straightening back up, he lets his gaze fall onto the pile of scrap metal and gears that is the cyborg he just saved. He’s leaking oil and creaking in his attempt to get back up, but his expression is serious and focused dead on the naked man in front of him.
“What?” Saitama sticks a finger in his ear, maybe there’s some mosquito guts in there, clogging up his hearing.
“Marry me!” The blonde cyborg repeats, grunting as he struggles to pull himself forward. “I’ve spent the past 4 years pursuing strength like yours. I’ve fallen for you at first punch!” Saitama realizes he definitely heard him right after all, blush stinging his cheeks.
“Sorry I… I’m not into dudes.” He panics, coming up with an excuse to turn the stranger down immediately. He racks his brain for something he can say to cut the weird tension. He’s never even been asked out, much less proposed to. “Are you… even going to be ok?”
“I am a cyborg,” he says, reaching his one remaining arm into his pants pocket to retrieve an ancient looking flip phone. “I can be completely repaired by my doctor as long as my brain remains intact.” Saitama sighs in relief as the subject seems to have changed. He really wants to go home and put some clothes on. Put this all behind him. Get some take out, watch a movie.
The cyborg makes a phone call while Saitama uncomfortably idles close by, not sure if he should leave with the poor guy in such disrepair. “Thank you for your assistance,” he finally says, sharply snapping the phone closed and putting it back in his pocket. “My doctor is sending the drones to recover my pieces and help me return to the lab.”
“Oh… that’s good. Well I’ll be off then…” Saitama spins around in the direction of his apartment but hears him continue talking.
“Please consider me!” Saitama’s face heats back up again instantly at this strangers boldness. He turns around to look once again at the mangled cyborg, dragging his hand down his face.
“I don’t even know your name… I can’t marry someone I don’t even know.” This was apparently the wrong thing to say, because the cracked and battered face of the man on the ground brightens with excitement.
“My name is Genos! Are you saying that if we get to know each other, I have a chance?” The brightness in Genos’ happy expression is blinding to Saitama, making his gut wrench with guilt at the idea of upsetting him.
“That’s not what I was-” Saitama starts.
“Let me prove my strength to you! We’ll have a sparring match soon… tell me your name!”
Saitama swallows around the dry lump in his throat and for a moment, considers just running away. Time seems to stand still. What is probably a few moments feels like hours as he tries to decide what to do. When his voice finally cracks out, it surprises even himself.
