#sun!genos

Genos buried his face into Saitama’s chest and let out a whimper. Eclipses were coming quicker and quicker as of late, and lasting longer.

Not that the moon god could complain about that, oh not at all, but with each eclipse that came, the more exhausted and sickly he looked.

The more he cried out for help.

It was agony watching Genos like this. The white dwarf that stopped by now and again (shit, what was his name again??) had warned Saitama that this was what would become of him if he kept trying to extend his star’s life for too long. He had warned Genos too, that if he kept persisting, he’d eventually reach an irreversible state that would only lead to one end:

A supernova.

Saitama begged Genos to let his star run its course, but the sun god had refused. He didn’t understand why, though, if he had just followed the dwarf’s advice, he could have lived past this and spend the last of his days free to roam the universe like he had always wanted.

“I’m sorry,” Genos whimpered, curling into Saitama’s chest. The moon god stroked his hair. His body temperature had been declining for several thousand years, but more recently Saitama had noticed a sharp increase in temperature.

“What are you apologizing for?” Saitama chuckled. “You still a ways away from…eh, I mean it’s going to be okay.”

“I just,” Genos heaved a sigh. “I don’t want to lose you. I—why couldn’t we have been able to be together?”

“We’re together right now,” Saitama hummed, running his fingers through the sun god’s hair.

“I mean, why couldn’t we have been able to be together all the time?” Genos spat. Saitama felt warm tears hit his robe. “I see the humans on Mumen’s planet living together and living out their lives together and…I want that, Saitama, I want us to have that and we can’t and it’s—it’s not fair!”

“Hey,” Saitama kissed Genos’s forehead, “you are and always will be my sunshine. And yeah, the eclipse thing was hard but…I would’ve rather known what it meant to love you so much it hurt then to have seen you and taken your presence for granted.”

“Do you think,” Genos sniffled, “Do you think if we met again in another life you would still love me?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt,” Saitama whispered. “A love like ours doesn’t die out. Not even when the star dust settles.”

** 

“FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!” Saitama screamed, sprinting through the streets of Z-city. This couldn’t be happening. This could not be happening. Mumen was getting his memories back too!? What even were these memories?!

“MUUUUUUMEEEEEEN!!!!” Saitama screamed out when he found the cyclist. Apparently the C-class hero had been enroute to find him too, but he had stopped and was clutching his head in his hands. 

“Saitama,” Mumen grunted, looking up as the other hero approached him and slowed to a stop. “Ohhhh, my head hurts so bad! What is happening!?”

“I don’t know dude, I—“ Saitama started but he lurched forward suddenly. So many visions flashed through the forefront of his mind that it felt like a hand grenade had gone off in his head. Grunting, the hero clutched his head in pain. Visions of space, of a bright light, of auroras and solar flares, of songs, their song, of—of—

Dinosaurs?

Jumping up, Saitama looked around and suddenly he was no longer in Z-city.

They were standing in the middle of a field.

“Mumen,” the hero whispered hoarsely. “Where are we.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mumen croaked. 

“Where are the people?” Saitama asked again. Where the fuck were they!?

“Saitma, I don’t—what is that?” Mumen squeaked. Saitama looked at the cyclist in confusion. There was nothing around…? 

“What is what?” Saitama barked.

Mumen lifted a shaking finger to point behind Saitama and croaked, “that.”

The hero turned back around and—well, he didn’t know why he didn’t hear a fucking dinosaur approach but there it was. A T-Rex.

A T-Rex that looked very hungry.

Oh that was not fun to look at.

“Mumen,” Saitama coughed. “What do we do?”

“Run,” Mumen paled. “RUUUUUUUUN!!!!”

**

“Why are you even trying to help me?” Genos spat through oily tears. “I don’t even know you.” 

“But that’s just the thing,” Zombieman pressed. “I know you. And I know how you get. I know how I got. Genos, I know this is hard, but I need you to remember everything that happened in your past life.”

“WHY?” Genos roared.

“Because it’ll help—“

“But it hurts so bad!”

“I know,” Zombieman said. He hovered his hand over the cyborg’s shoulder, waiting for permission to make contact. Genos couldn’t do much but sob into his own hands, so he felt a soft hand touch him as Zombieman said, “I know it hurts, it’s going to hurt like hell but you need to remember.”

“How?” Genos sobbed. He couldn’t take this anymore. The images that flashed through his field of vision came and went in a blur and his head hurt. It felt like his core had caught fire and he had half a mind to open his chest compartment to make sure he wasn’t dying.

“Just let go,” Zombieman explained. “It’s easier said than done but just let the memories flood in. I’ll talk you through it, okay?”

Genos looked at Zombieman for a long moment, sniffling. He didn’t want to trust the man, but he didn’t know if he had much of a choice.

“Okay,” he said. And with that, Genos took a deep breath, and let it all pour out. 

**

The sun god watched in awe as the satellite shrugged his robes off. The phases of the moon—his moon—decorated his back and shoulders. They were… 

He was beautiful. 

“Okay,” Saitama breathed. “I-is this alright?”

“You’re perfect,” Genos said softly. He reached a hand out and ever so gently ran his fingers down the length of Saitama’s spine. The satellite god flinched slightly, shivering, and causing Genos to retract and apologize, “I’m so sorry, Saitama, I just, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright,” Saitama breathed. “It’s so warm.”

“Pardon?” 

“You,” Saitama laughed. “Your touch is so warm.”

“Is that a good thing?” Genos asked meekly.

“Yes,” Saitama smiled, “It’s a very good thing.”

The satellite’s smile was so sweet, so pure, so beautiful that Genos lost himself in his love for Saitama that he pulled the god into an embrace, holding him tightly.

“My dear satellite,” Genos whispered, placing a kiss on the markings lining the back of Saitama’s neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

Saitama sucked in a breath, relaxing in Genos’s grasp. Heaving a sigh, Saitama whispered, “I love you so much, Genos.”

**

It took about six city blocks before Saitama and Mumen realized that there wasn’t an actual dinosaur chasing them. 

They slowed to a halt, panting, bracing themselves on their knees.

Well this was getting weird.

“Sai—tama—“ Mumen panted. “What are we even—even doing?”

“I don’t know but I’m just glad I’m not the only one going crazy,” the hero whined.

When he caught his breath, Saitama straightened himself a little and looked around. This was just another normal day in the city, right? Nothing new or out of the ordinary. The sun was shining, birds were singing, there was probably a monster attack somewhere because Badd was jogging and—

Wait.

How did Saitama know that the kid with the metal bat was named Badd. 

Oh no.

“BAAAAAAADD!!!!!” Saitama screamed on impulse. He didn’t actually know what his plan of action was, but certainly the god of Mars had to know something—

Wait, Mars?! 

The S-class greaser yelped as Saitama collided into him, shaking him by the shoulders.

“W-what!? Hey! What the hell are you—“

“WHERE IS YOUR PLUTO BOYFRIEND!?” Saitama screamed, shaking Badd. He couldn’t remember where he knew the kid from, he just knew that he had a rover that hung around him and he was dating a planet that may have been a dwarf planet may have not been he didn’t know and frankly neither did Mumen’s humans either.

Except…they were also human. They were not gods.

Oh this was confusing.

“I—Dude, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Badd cringed. “What’er you even talking about?! Who are you!?”

“Saitama,” Mumen hissed, grabbing the hero for fun by the arm, “Let’s go.”

“You’re—oh god what was his name!?” Saitama shook his head. “Oh! Garou! Where’s Garou!? You two are always together!” 

“Yeah, when his planet is close enough to—wait,” Badd started speaking as if he knew exactly what Saitama was talking about but then froze. His eye twitched for a moment and he glared at Saitama, “What did you just do to me?” 

“I haven’t done anything I just know that I know you but I don’t and—aaaagggh where’s Genos!?”

“The cyborg?” Badd blinked several times. “I dunno, last I saw him he—was…on Mars…”

Badd shifted his gaze from Saitama to Mumen, “Where…where’s my little rover thingy?”

Mumen reared his head back, “you what?”

“The little rover that Earth had and—WHY AM I SEEING THINGS!?”

“Forget the rover, where is your Pluto Boyfriend!?” Saitama shouted, rearing his head up to the heavens in a panic.

“I don’t have a Pluto Boyfriend!” Badd shouted back. “And who even is this Garou!? Why do you care?” 

“Oh, I don’t know maybe because now you can see him every day instead of waiting for those stupid planetary cycles?” Saitama spat back. 

“But I never even met a—“ Badd started and stopped again. He had been doing that a lot. “Oh no.”

“What?”

“Ohhh nooooo,” Badd dropped his bat, his expression wide.

“What?”

“That bastard that beat me up a few weeks back,” Badd coughed. “The hero hunter.”

Saitama had no clue what Badd was talking about (or rather, he probably did but he had blocked it out of his mind like he did just about everything that didn’t involve a sale or Genos, honestly), but Mumen’s mouth fell open, looking absolutely defeated, “You’re kidding me!”

“I hope I am,” Badd blinked. He stared out into space for a moment before he shook his head furiously and coughed, “Nope. No, I don’t think I am.”

“Well,” Saitama clapped his hands together. “I hope you find him?”

“So where’s Genos?”

“What?”

“Genos? Your guy? The….holy crap was Demon Cyborg the sun?”

“Crap I need to find Genos,” Saitama smacked his hands to his head. “Mumen, we need to go!”

“Uh, okay,” the cyclist nodded. “Uh, Metal Bat, I’m really sorry for any headache or weird vision you might get.”

“What headaches?” Metal Bat asked.

“Just uh, maybe take a day to yourself,” Mumen suggested. “We’ll check in on you when Saitama gets this mess sorted out.”

“Um…okay??”

Saitama took off running and didn’t bother to respond to Badd. He could apologize later.

**

“Saitama, promise me something,” Genos whispered. It was another lazy day together. Saitama didn’t want to admit it but the heat surrounding them was absolutely sweltering. 

“Anything,” Saitama said, wiping sweat from the sun god’s brow.

“Will you find me in the next life?”

Saitama paused and thought on that. “Next life?”

“Zombieman said that,” Genos started, “that everything this solar system is made from is out of the stardust of another system. He said that it’s possible that we could be reborn in the next system that forms. If that happens, would you find me?”

“In a heartbeat, Genos,” Saitama whispered, kissing his temple. “And I will love for as long as I live in that life too.” 

**

Genos let out a scream. The pain was too overbearing and the memories—he was such a failure! How could he have done this to Saitama Sensei? To everyone?

“Let it out, Kid,” Zombieman pat Genos on the back.

“Why do I have to remember all of this?” Genos whaled. “This is all my fault! You all died because of me!”

“Such is the responsibility of a sun,” Zombieman mused. “But we’re here now, aren’t we?” 

“What does it even matter?” Genos sobbed. “Sensei probably hates me.”

“Now why would that be the case?”

“I killed him, I—“

“Genos,” Zombieman stopped him. “I’m not pushing you to remember everything to make you feel bad. Do you remember the conversation we had about star dust?” 

Genos wiped his eyes furiously, rubbing his forehead gently. “When stardust settles it can become a nebula, which then later becomes a new solar system, yes I know—“ 

“Genos, think about where we are in the universe,” Zombieman prodded. “When you look up at the stars in the sky, what do you see?”

“I see…I see the same galaxies and star systems I’ve always seen,” Genos spat back. “What’s so special about that?”

“The exact same?” Zombieman quirked a smile.

“Yes!” Genos snapped back. “Nothing has changed! What’s your point?”

“My point,” Zombieman stated, “is that this solar system, this very planet we are living on now as humans is no different than where we were in our past life.”

Genos felt his brow furrowing as he sat up a little straighter looking around. He looked up at the clouds in the sky and sucked in a breath.

Zombieman was right. 

Nothing had changed. At least from what he could remember.

“How is this possible?”

“You supernova’d,” Zombieman stated. “You were so concerned about saving your friends and protecting them. You didn’t want them to die, did you?” 

“Of course not,” Genos shook his head. “The last thing I ever wanted was for them to die. I wanted them to be safe.”

“And look at what you’ve done,” Zombieman said. “Your will and your love for Saitama, for everyone, lived on in your star dust and now we’re here. Don’t you think that means anything?”

For the first time in a long long time, Genos felt as if there was finally a break in the clouds and he could see clearly.

For eons, Genos spent his life alone, pining and waiting for his satellite to align so that he and Saitama could be together for mere minutes at a time. And now, not only were they both alive and well at the same time, they lived together in the same apartment. They could live out their lives they could—

This was his second chance.

This was their second chance.

“Zombieman,” Genos’s voice was thick as he spoke and he felt hot tears fall down his cheeks all over again. “Thank you.”

“Go to him, Genos,” Zombieman urged. Genos rose to his feet to begin his search for his teacher, for his satellite, for his soul mate.

He froze.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” Genos asked softly.

“Oh, he’ll remember,” Zombieman chuckled.

“But what if,” Genos felt his voice catch. “What if he doesn’t love me anymore.” 

The sun was not at all gentle in the way its light flooded Saitama’s eyes when he woke up that morning, groaning and feeling a wave of nausea strike him like a brick.

(Funny, how the sun had its way of waking him up as such…)

The hero held tightly onto the covers as he sat up, rubbing his eyes to push back the migraine that was quickly forming behind them. He glanced over at the clock, noting that it was nearly noon and Genos’s futon had already been folded back, the cyborg nowhere to be seen. Weird, for someone who had probably gotten over twelve hours of sleep the night before one would think that he would’ve felt well rested upon waking up—

Wait a minute.

Why was Saitama in his futon…?

Memories of the night before of Genos acting strange, of him passing out at the doorway flooded Saitama’s mind. Memories of eons before flooded his mind and it took all of the hero’s strength to fight back the uncontrollable wave of sobs that threatened to overtake him, gripping his heart like a fist stronger than his own.

How could he have forgotten?

“Oh fuck,” Saitama coughed, wiping his eyes as he carefully rose to his feet. Clearly unless he had a new found habit of sleepwalking he was not the one to put himself to bed the night before. Glancing down to find he was still in his clothes, Saitama wondered if Genos had come back at some intermittent point in the night and carried him to bed. He couldn’t be sure, though, because there was no trace that the cyborg had been in the apartment.

Saitama straightened, cracking his neck and back to relieve his body of the strain that passing out on the floor had caused. It wasn’t until he rolled up his futon and tucked it away into the corner that something yellow caught the corner of his eye.

Saitama turned his head to the table, examining the potted plant sitting at the center as he scooted it back to its usual place. His heart skipped a beat in his chest.

Sunflowers.

Three large flowers nested in the small pot and next to it sat a note card with Saitama’s name written on the front in Geno’s handwriting. Saitama lifted the notecard, turning it around to read the message on the other side:

Saitama Sensei, I am writing to tell you how  

I do not know what came over me last night I

I’m so sorry.

*****

Genos coughed up another sob as he ran his hands through his hair.

This was absolutely ridiculous, he had been crying on and off since the night before. He couldn’t control it. He had run back to Dr. Kuseno’s convinced that there was some malfunction, but the good doctor only told him the same thing Saitama had:

He had a concussion and needed to let himself heal.

But looking at the old man brought up one of the most painful images that surged through his mind to date racked his core:

A gentle hand, a sad smile, a wish for his happiness as the old man burned away.

“Kuseno, ple-ease!” Genos sobbed as he fell to his knees, begging for the images to go away. They felt too real, like they were actual memories of a life long, long ago. But he refused to believe.

“Genos! What’s wrong?” Kuseno begged, holding the cyborg’s shoulders as he sobbed. Unable to control his tears, his memories, his pain, Genos could only mutter out a series of apologies.

Good gods, Genos had killed the good doctor.

He’d killed all of them.

It was his fault.

“I’M SO SORRY!” Genos wailed as he was pulled further into the old man’s arms in a hug.

It had taken sedation and a loooot of coaxing to finally convince Genos that what was happening to him wasn’t actually real, but he still couldn’t shake the tears off. He forced himself to walk home but disturbingly, he found Sensei unconscious by the doorway when he returned. Panic filled him but all of his diagnostic scans indicated that his beloved teacher was okay. If anything, his heart rate and Serotonin levels were abnormally high. Had he had an anxiety attack? Based on the levels of the other hormones circulating through his body that was likely a cause.

Seeing no reason for specific medical intervention, Genos had lifted Saitama and placed him in bed before settling in his own.

He hadn’t slept that night. He couldn’t shake the horrible feeling sinking deep into his chest. When he did sleep, nightmares of an entirely different entity woke him. Nightmares of his family, yes, those still occurred. But nightmares of another life in another time. Nightmares of his own failing body, of his own sun beginning to cause him pain, of his friends dying off one by one, of having to face his soul mate, his true love, his beautiful satellite Saitama for the last time, those nightmares flooded him and woke him in a fit of tears.

By the time six in the morning rolled around, he was in complete agony all over again. Unable to take it, Genos finally got out of bed, rolled his futon, and went for a walk to clear his head.

The walk did anything but.

As if by some sign from some unspoken deity, Genos passed through a field in the park and stopped when traces of yellow caught his eye:

Sunflowers.

Genos hesitantly walked up to the small field, examining it, his core whirring uncontrollably. He stared at the flowers for a long time, trying to place their significance when suddenly, it all came crashing back to him all over again.

The first time they met.

The barren rock that comprised Saitama’s moon.

The planet Saitama’s moon circled around that was bursting with life.

The flowers that bloomed so brilliantly in the summer time, that Saitama had so freely given to Genos along with his own heart, millennia ago.

Every eclipse that felt like an eternity to wait for.

The cyborg fell to his knees, sobbing all over again, uncontrollably blots of oil running down his cheeks as he picked three of the smaller blooms, trimmed their stems down and potted them. He tried to attach a note to it for his teacher, he wanted to apologize for his erratic behavior as of late, apologize for all of the lost time, apologize for letting go and losing every thing they had worked and built their relationship for, but so many memories were running through his head that he couldn’t seem to make out which was truth and which was just the product of his head trauma.

Or if everything was true. Good gods, he almost hoped that wasn’t the case.

Unable to discern his own cognitive thoughts from the unnerving array of emotions that assaulted him, Genos just crossed out everything he attempted to say and left two simple words:

“I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t face his Sensei. Thank the universe that Saitama was still asleep when Genos returned and he was able to silently set the pot and the note on the table before retreating once again.

And now, here he was, in the middle of nowhere, sitting on the steps of an old abandoned home, sobbing uncontrollably because he didn’t know what to do.

Logically, he should have been resting. Logically, he should have written everything off as head trauma that could be sorted out when he was in the right state of mind.

But the reality of it was that he just couldn’t push the weight off of his shoulders. It was crushing him and he was all alone.

Suns deserved to be alone. All the did was kill those they grew close to anyway.

*****

Dinner had passed and Genos was still nowhere to be found. Saitama had been sitting at the table, anxious and unable to sit still all day.

He kept telling himself that everything was fine, that Genos was just being Genos and needed some time to himself.

But the logical part of his mind was also reminding him that Genos had a concussion and should not be wandering around on his own to begin with.

What was left of his emotional center, however, forced Saitama to stay put until his sorted out his own thoughts and memories that were currently crushing him.

This was a mess, Saitama thought as he rested his head in his hands. What was he even doing? There was no freaking way that these weird illusions of Genos standing on the sun (with a great tan and phenomenal legs, if he said so himself) and sending him auroras and…kissing him were real! There was no way!

Saitama smacked his cheeks, deciding that he better go out and look for the cyborg when he heard his cellphone ring. Great, who the hell would need to talk to him now of all times?

Rolling his eyes, Saitama answered the phone: “Yeah?”

“Saitama!” Mumen cried out, panting. He sounded…distraught.

“What’s up?”

“Saitama what did you do to me?” Mumen asked, causing the hero’s heart to leap in his chest.

“Uh…what did I do?” Saitama asked. He didn’t recall intentionally hurting the cyclist. After all, Mumen was one of his closest friends—

“Those images you were telling me about yesterday,” Mumen coughed. Was he crying? “Of-of the moon and the sun and—and of Earth. Saitama, what’s happening to me? Why were we running away from giant centipedes?’

“Woa, woa, slow down,” Saitama pressed. “What’s happening?”

“I had a dream last night,” Mumen said. “About Earth. Except it wasn’t our earth. Well…it was but it was different. There were no monsters and we weren’t—we weren’t human.”

“Oh no,” Saitama felt his face pale. Oh shit. This could not be happening.

“Saitama what’s happening to me?”

“Hold on, Dude,” Saitama said. “Just, hang tight, I’ll be right there!”

****

Saitama looked timidly up at the sun god, trying to hide the soft glow in his cheeks. He hugged himself and coughed, “So uh…they’re named after you, did you know that?”

Genos stared down at the bouquet in his arms, feeling tears well up in his eyes.

“Mumen has plenty of those and…whenever I’m missing you he sends me some, then the wait gets a little less painful. Because they remind me of you…hum…it’s not like they’re nearly as beautiful as you! I mean, you’re truly beautiful…uh…”

Saitama had always been a god of very few words, and he looked visibly uncomfortable expressing exactly what was on his mind. He fidgeted awkwardly and turned away to clear his throat. A smile spread across Genos’s cheeks and an overwhelming swell of emotions filled his heart with a joy he never thought he could know.

Apparently, his raw emotions were visible because he almost immediately received a tongue lashing: “Oi! Would you stop it with that face?! It’s hard enough to tell you my feelings and you aren’t making it any easier!”

Unable to contain his pure, unadulterated glee, Genos pulled the moon god into an embrace, placing a gentle kiss on the cheeks.  

“I’m sorry, I’m just so happy…”

*****

Genos felt himself wilting underneath the weight of his memories. Even the happy ones were slowly eating away at him.

He was sorry, so so sorry.

“I’m so sorry, Saitama,” Genos whimpered, tucking his head further in between his knees. This was unbearable, so much so that the cyborg hadn’t even heard his proximity alarms go off. But he did register someone tap his foot.

“What do you want!?” Genos spat as he jerked his head up, pausing dead in his tracks when he locked eyes onto Zombieman.

He felt his eyebrow furrow. Class S, Rank 8 and Genos had had exactly two interactions with him to date: the first being the S-class meeting they had both attended and the second being the all-expense paid spa trip as thanks for stopping the aliens that attacked City A which nearly ended in disaster. And even then, their communication had been minimal, so what was another S-Class hero doing here—?

No.

Not just S-Class.

The White Dwarf.

Genos felt himself straighten slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion as to how he felt he knew the former god so well, aside from the memories that flashed (more gently this time) through his mind.

“You remember me?” Zombieman asked gruffly. Genos couldn’t bring himself to say a word, he was at such a loss. Instead, a few gruff noises escaped his throat unintentionally, leaving the hero to heave a sigh and sit down beside Genos. “Yeah, it sucks when they first come back, doesn’t it? I brought a bottle of sake if you needed. To take the edge off.”

“I-I don’t drink,” Genos said hoarsely. “And how did you know…?”

“I saw your satellite sprinting around town like a mad man with Mumen asking about bees and sunflowers and screaming something about you being missing in action,” Zombieman explained nonchalantly. “He ran up to me because I looked familiar and was speaking faster than he could make his words intelligible. I had seen him on the news before and he’s never been that…expressive.”

“What do you even want from me?” Genos spat.

Some days, Saitama wondered why he ever bothered getting his hopes up when it came to fighting monsters.

Other days, Saitama wondered why in the living hell he would let his disciple run off to fight by himself when he was overzealous.

Most days, Genos was the top of his class. He was level-headed, calculating, studious, and could fight even when he lost a limb. Or two.

And then the idiot would let his guard down.

And then the idiot would get hurt (well…worse than usual).

When the two had reached the sight of the monster attack, the cyborg took one scan of the surroundings and determined that he must be the one to fight the massive lizard for training purposes. And at first, Saitama hadn’t thought anything of it. The cyborg launched into battle as usual, canons ablaze, and he took the monster head-on, managing to deal a serious injury within his first attack.

That was about as far as Genos got before everything went to shit.

See, what neither hero had accounted for was that the large spines on the lizard’s back could unfold into wings. Before Genos could launch the canons in his shoulders to get airborne, the lizard redirected itself and smashed Genos into a building. At first, Saitama wasn’t fazed too terribly much, recounting the number of times the cyborg had been driven through buildings and highways and any other large structure.

When the cyborg was slow to stagger back to the surface, holding his head in his hand as the lights of his vents and canons flickered dangerously, Saitama realized he made a very poor judgment call.

“G-Genos!?” Saitama called out, leaping closer to the scene. Genos responded by glancing up at the older hero for a moment. His arm was torn clean off at the shoulder joint leaving some wires exposed, his clothes were in pieces, and some of his face plating had broken off around the eye socket, but he otherwise seemed okay.

“Sensei, I have this under control!” Genos called back, looking uncharacteristically irritated. Not entirely convinced, Saitama watched as Genos swung a punch at the lizard, clearly missing as the monster dodged effortlessly.

Yeah, no, something was definitely wrong.

Without thinking, Saitama charged towards the lizard and dealt a single punch, blowing the monster to bloody pieces.

“Well, that takes care of that,” Saitama muttered, shaking his hand out before the monster’s bodily fluids could seep into the fabric of his gloves. “Yo, Genos? You okay?”

Saitama found Genos hunched forward for a brief moment before the cyborg straightened himself and took a few wobbly steps towards his teacher, his expression serious as ever.

“Yes, Sensei!” the cyborg announced. “Forgive me, I let me guard down yet again.”

“It’s alright, dude,” Saitama grinned as he broke out into several chuckles, “I gotta say though, your aim on those punches suck!”

Genos raised a brow, his expression darkening, “What?”

Saitama broke out into a small fit of laughter, clapping his disciple on the shoulder, “We’ll work on your swings next time we fight. Though I thought your aim was usually pretty good!”

“There is nothing wrong with my aim!”

Saitama stilled, giving Genos a very quizzical look.

Genos talking back to Saitama like this…it wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t like Saitama cared, he knew sooner or later Genos would figure out that he was following a complete dunce that had nothing to offer, but the expression he was giving Saitama…

“Genos, are you okay?” Saitama asked. The cyborg jumped to alertness, seemingly coming back to his senses. The small jolt in his body proved to be too much movement, though, apparently, as Genos teetered over to the side for a minute, took a couple steps to catch himself, and ducked his head forward to hold it in his hands, groaning.

“Forgive me, Sensei, I do not know what came over me,” Genos apologized, trying (and failing) to hide his stagger in a bow. Saitama rolled his eyes and pushed against Genos’s shoulder to stand him upright, but the cyborg started teetering again and his scrunched up expression told Saitama that something was definitely up.

“I didn’t ask for an apology I asked if you were alright,” Saitama snapped. “Is everything okay?”

Genos blinked several times, his eyes squinting as he stared at Saitama.

Saitama knew that Genos didn’t have any blood circulating through his body, but as impossible as it sounded, the hero could have sworn he saw color train from the cyborg’s cheeks.

“I feel…” Genos started, his eyebrows knitting together. He pitched forward slightly before catching himself. His gaze shifted up to the sky, caught a glimpse of the moon, and he flashed the faintest of smile before the cringe returned and he admitted, “I don’t feel good…”

Most things didn’t affect Saitama anymore, and he was starting to come to terms with the fact that Genos’s well-being did not count as one of those things. The hero’s heart all but leapt out of his chest as the cyborg fell over, crashing into Saitama’s arms at the last second. Frantic, Saitama lowered Genos gently, trying to shake the cyborg back to alertness.

“Genos!” Saitama shouted, tapping the cyborg’s cheek slightly. His good eye fell close and the red beam in his busted socket flickered unnaturally. Trying to inspect the cyborg he brushed his bangs out of his face, his fingers brushing over a small dimple in the front of the cyborg’s skull.

Drawing his hand back quickly, Saitama yelped. Looking around in a panic knowing that anyone else would be more qualified to handle the situation than him, Saitama saw no one nearby and he cursed under his breath.

Shit, it wasn’t like Saitama could rush Genos to the doctor, the guy was a loose canon—literally! He needed to go to a special doctor or something to get repaired he—

Wait a minute.

Saitama pulled Genos into his chest and lifted him just enough to reach into his back pocket to grab a cell phone. Saitama flipped it open and haphazardly scrolled through Genos’s contacts trying to find the name of the doctor that took care of him.

What was his name again? Steam? Cranberry? Konbu?

Kuseno! Dr. Kuseno! Saitama found the name and dialed the number before holding it up to his ear.

The phone didn’t sound more than two rings before an old man picked up the phone shouting, “Where is Genos?”

“Is this Dr. Kuseno?” Saitama asked, fighting desperately to sound calm. “Genos is with me but he passed out, I think he hit his head!”

“My diagnostic program alerted me that his core went into emergency shut down,” the doctor explained. Saitama didn’t quite know what that meant, but he sure as hell did know it wasn’t good when the man added, “His brain is losing oxygen you need to get him to my lab within the next ten minutes or the damage will be irreversible.”

“Shit,” Saitama spat, “Where even are you?”

The doctor sent coordinates to Genos’s phone and Saitama scooped the unconscious cyborg into his arms and broke out into a full sprint. By some stroke of miracle, the lab was in the same city, but Saitama still felt like he was cutting it close when he busted through the doors of the cybernetics lab at the eight minute mark, nurses at the ready.

Saitama set the cyborg down on the gurney waiting for them and wheeled the away without a second glance. He tried to follow them, but one of the nurses stopped them at a large set of swinging doors.

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is the operating room, Dr. Kuseno will be out soon as soon as he takes care of your partner."

Saitama was rendered speechless at that, and was left to stand alone staring at the entrance to the OR in complete confusion.

Partner…?

******

Occasionally the sun would go out of site for a few days, leaving the moon god in darkness. The instances that happened were lonely, he had to admit, but in their system’s older age, the moon god didn’t mind so much. With the darkness always came a promise of a new light, a new solar flare, a new excitement to see the love of his life again

On the rotation that the sun came back into view, the moon god chuckled to himself as he stirred from a nap, his skin being tickled by the sun’s rays. I stood up and adjusted his robes, expecting some sort of phantom image of his love to appear at any moment. Along with auroras and solar flares the couple had figured out over the years how to project their images for more direct conversation when the sun and moon lined up just right. But when the moon god turned to face the sun, he jumped in a mix between surprise and concern.

They couldn’t have been out of view from each other for that long, but the sun definitely seemed….bigger.

And redder.

The moon god rubbed his eyes and blinked a few more times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. That changed couldn’t have happened that quickly, the moon god noted, the progression must’ve been occurring over a long period of time, he was just now noticing it.

Or he was imagining things.

Out of his own selfish desire to preserve his life, he hoped he was imagining things.

But, nevertheless, within moments the sun god’s image flickered in front of the moon, handsome as always. But he looked…tired. His normally tan skin seemed drained of color and his bright golden eyes appeared to lose their glow. To anyone else the moon was sure the change was too miniscule to notice. But this was his sunshine they were talking about; the moon could notice such changes from light-years away.

“Hey, Sunshine,” the moon god greeted; the sun rays that warmed his cheeks brought a huge smile to his face.

The sun smiled and said, “Hello my dear, I hope the darkness wasn’t too lonely while I was away.”

“It was no worse than usual…are you feeling okay?”

The sun jumped in surprise, giving the satellite a quizzical look, “yes. Why?”

“You just seem…tired,” the moon god decided on saying. He really didn’t want to bring up the fact that the star had literally expanded to a red engorged version of itself in just a few hundred cycles. The sun god may have been able to pretend he felt alright, but there was no denying the shift in his domain.

“I am a little tired,” the sun god admitted, shrugging, “The days are long when I cannot see you.”

“The days are constructed and measured by how quickly we can revolve around you, my love,” the moon god rolled his eyes. The bright red mass behind them kept catching the satellite’s eye, however, and he couldn’t resist but to peak behind Genos.  

(Genos…yes, the beautiful god Genos. The god who could have given his heart to anyone, and here he was on this barren satellite giving his love to the lonely deity Saitama. What stars aligned to smile upon their soul bond, he wondered?)

Of course, as poetic as his hindsight may have been, Saitama had never been one for tact, despite the eons the couple had spent together.

“Are you sure, Sunshine?” Saitama felt his eyebrow quirk, “You’re looking kinda…big.”

Genos stiffened beside the satellite god, his face immediately fixing to a scowl. Saitama peaked up and glanced at his lover and felt heat radiating off the mere image of the sun god.

Or was it coming from the image?

Oh, Saitama fucked up.

“I’m…what?” the sun god snarled, shooting a glare at the moon.

“I—“ Saitama threw his hands up in defense, “Oh come on, Babe, I didn’t mean it like that—“

Genos didn’t give Saitama a chance to finish but instead his image flickered and disappeared and the moon god watched as the star across the horizon drew in all gases and flares that usually danced around the surface on their own accord.

Saitama leaned forward, squinting, waiting for some movement to come from the sun but…nothing. The star just stilled, and remained unusually quiet.

“Yeah,” the moon god sighed, placing his hands on his hips, “I fucked up.”

*************

It was over an hour before an old man with a mushroom cap for hair came through the doors, walking straight towards Saitama.

“I take it you are the young man who has set a rather reckless goal for Genos?” the doctor interrogated. Saitama jumped, feeling his lungs collapse on him.

Well, he had to admit that if Genos was going to be naïve about how stupid it was to follow him around, someone needed to at least straighten the kid out.

“Yeah,” Saitama scratched the back of his head, mind drifting back to the last several months he had spent living under the same roof as Genos, getting to know Genos, growing to admire the sincerity and kindness that came from every thing the cyborg said and did (even if it was said with a bitter string of curses and harsh judgment of the other members of the Hero Association). The hero heaved a sigh, “Listen, Doc, I’ve been meaning to tell him to lay off the goal. He’s a strong kid and—“

“Nevermind that,” the doctor waved Saitama off, dismissing the subject. He smiled kindly at the hero, though Saitama still felt himself withering under the stare in the old man’s gray eyes.

Oh come on, Saitama was Genos’s teacher not his boyfriend!

…Right?

“How is Genos?” Saitama asked, bracing himself for the worst, “Is he—is he okay?”

Kuseno sighed and nodded his head, “He will be alright. He dealt a serious blow to the head. His skull was cracked and dented slightly, but that is an easy repair. What had me concerned is his concussion. It’s not as serious as I initially thought, thankfully, but he will need to stay at the lab overnight for observation. And once he is home, it will likely take eight to ten days for him to fully recover, maybe even longer. In that time he is not to be doing any strenuous activity and he is not to be reading or staring at electronic screens. Does that make sense?”

Saitama, surprisingly enough, found himself listening intently to everything the good doctor said without drifting off in thought once. He was relieve that the cyborg was okay—beyond relieved—and he quickly realized that the last thing he ever wanted was to see the cyborg get hurt even worse because of him.

“I’ll hide his notebooks when we get home, then,” Saitama nodded. The doctor’s smile widened and the hero immediately felt the sting of judgment lifted from his shoulders (if only slightly).

“Very good, I will call you when he is ready to be picked up then,” the doctor said as he turned to leave. Saitama rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment and swallowed his pride before the doctor was out of sight.

“Wait! Actually…” Saitama gazed at the floor, the wall, anything but Dr. Kuseno. He couldn’t believe he was asking this, “Actually, could I stay here overnight too? With Genos?”

The doctor’s expression was unreadable at first, his gaze scanning and observing Saitama intently. But then he broke out into a soft chuckle and said, “Of course my boy, right this way!”

Genos was laying on a table, looking good as new. Saitama approached the table and sat down on a chair, clasping hold of the cyborg’s hand. Genos stirred from what looked to be a nap and the cyborg’s golden eyes flickered to life, their scanners turning on for a long moment while Genos registered his surroundings.

“S-Sensei?” Genos asked, his brow furrowing. The poor kid looked so tired. He was clearly not feeling well.

“Hey,” Saitama grinned, “Heard you took a hard blow to your noggin.”

Genos heaved a sigh and looked away, “Forgive me, Sensei, I did not pay enough attention to—“

“Dude, it’s okay,” Saitama squeezed Genos’s hand in reassurance, “You just scared me is all. I’m glad you’re okay.”

Genos stared at Saitama for a long moment then, examining Saitama with an intensity that made the hero wonder if his disciple’s scanners could reach into your very soul. But his scanners were not on and the more Genos looked the more confused he appeared to be. But slowly, a smile spread along those synthetic cheeks.

“Thank you, Sensei,” Genos said softly. “That means a lot.”

********************

“MUUUUMEEEEEEEEEEEEN!!!!” Saitama screamed sprinting at full throttle towards Gaia’s deity.

Or rather, Earth, as the inhabitants called it. Mumen looked up in surprise from the field he was tending to. A flutter of bees surrounded him, a few breaking away to great Saitama with a lazy buzz.

“Everything okay?” Mumen asked.

“NO! EVERYTHING IS BAD! EVERYTHING IS REAL BAD!” Saitama declared. Mumen recoiled at the other god’s panicked shrieks, only growing more confused.

“Saitama! Calm down! What happened?”

“Ohhhh, Mumen I fucked up,” Saitama danced nervously in the place that he stood, fists bunching up around his robes. “I fucked up real bad.”

“What did you do?”  

“I need you to send an aurora for me!”

“What? We’ll need to go up to the arctic circle for that—“

“Then do it!”  

“O-okay!” Mumen jumped. He waved goodbye to his bee friends that each found a flower to tuck themselves into for a nap and in moments the two gods had projected themselves to their usual spot. “Okay, what do you need me to say?”

Saitama fought down a blush and coughed, “Tell him I love him and there is a bouquet of sunflowers here waiting for him.”

“Aww,” Mumen grinned as Saitama tried to look at anything but the god of Earth. “But Saitama, why so suddenly--?”

A loud rumbling noise that sounded vaguely like a thunderclap sounded in the distance, though judging by the pitch and the vibrations it caused, both gods knew that such a sound could only be heard by them.  

Them and every other deity in this system.

The two deities looked up and saw the blood orange horizon decorated by a solar flare.  

Wow Saitama fucked up.

“Saitama,” Mumen gasped, “What did you DO!?”  

“JUST SEND THE DAMN AURORA!”  

Even his tears sparkled with starlight…

Of course, that was to be expected, considering that he was the literal god of the sun. Even so, the moon god had never once seen his lover cry. Tears were more of Gaia’s thing (poor thing’s planet was covered in water and clouds and the condensation was enough to make his head spin, and with the masses of life that filled his planet, Gaia had at least one emotional breakdown that Moon had to console him for each day), and though it was true, the sun god had been known to waver in emotional strength, especially as those long long days between eclipses seemed to grow longer still, never once had he shed a tear.  

And now here he was, at the end of his life, sobbing for what could have been, what shouldn’t be. And the moon god had no clue how to console his partner.

“I—It’s okay, we understand—“

“How is this okay!?” the sun god wailed. Sudden outbursts such as this had become much more frequent in his last hundred years, and the moon god knew why. It was natural for stars to burn themselves out. Their gods grew exhausted, giving and giving all that they had to give and then some, sacrificing so much just so that other planets, other gods, other forms of life could have a chance at finding happiness in the small window of time they were granted. But as all the gods knew, as a star burnt out, so did the lives that they provided for. Some gods withered away and died, others tried to push themselves, caving under the guilt in knowing that their life’s end would affect so much more than themselves. Some gods tried to prolong their life, tried so hard to hold on that in the end, they merely just gave everything away, expanding into nothingness and burning everyone and everything in its solar system.  

As much as it pained the moon god to see his lover suffer so, he actually—in a strange way—preferred this ending.

“You did all that you could,” the moon god tried to console the sun. He reached forward and wiped a few golden, star-dusted tear from the sun god’s cheek. “We knew that one day your star would burn out. We all knew that. It’s a heavy burden to bare and—“

“What burden?” The sun god protested, “Your blood will be on my hands! Everyone’s blood will be!”

“And yet for so many millennia you existed alone,” the moon leveled, “And during that time alone you gave us reason to exist in the first place. And then you befriended us, all of us. Most stars don’t do that.”  

“Perhaps it would have been easier to be alone,” the sun sniffled before doubling forward, his energy fading quickly. The two drew closer and the moon sighed, he would have to fix this quickly, and while the sun god would last a little longer than he would, he didn’t want his lover’s last moments alone to be riddled with guilt. “It wouldn’t be as painful to endure this.”

“Knowing you, you would have been in pain just the same,” the moon forced a smile, trying not to show that he too was getting choked up (how could he not be sad? The thing he looked most forward to in his long years of existence was each eclipse, each solstice when the beautiful sun was within reach for the two to have a few hours, a few moments together, alone, in the sanctity of his home, would soon be gone just the same!). “But had that been the case, you would have been suffering alone, and I wouldn’t have fallen in love.”  

At that, the sun god looked up, his bright golden eyes encased within black sclera glistened. Oh, how he loved that look his sun god gave him. A look of awe and wonder, of passion and adoration. It was a look the moon seldom saw during their early days, and the first time he saw it, the first time he saw the mental barriers come down and suddenly the moon wasn’t looking at an all-powerful star that was the reason he existed and would be the reason he would cease to exist, but instead he was looking at an innocent being just as young and awe-inspired as he was.

That look melted into sorrow once more as gravity pulled them ever closer, and he sun god whimpered, “I am so sorry. I pushed myself too far, if I had just withered away when I felt my star burning out, your death wouldn’t be nearly so painful.”  

“Are you kidding? And have you die alone and far from me,” the moon scoffed. Their entities were so close now that neither would be able to pull away from each other. It was getting a little difficult to breathe. “I always told myself, in times of loneliness, what I thought to be the best thing about being bonded to the sun.”  

As sweltering heat began to encase his entire form, the sun let out one more sob but dared to ask, “And what was that?”

The moon chuckled, feeling his last moments approach. He wrapped his arms tightly around the sun god and rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. “I always thought, that the best part about being bonded to the sun was the fact that, no matter how far away we were from each other, no matter what happened I would be able to die holding you in my arms.”

At that, the sun practically melted, pulling the moon into a tight embrace as the two allowed themselves to cry. Mournful for all the time they spent away from each other, but grateful for the love that they shared.  

They were certain, that a love as strong was theirs could only manifest once in a star-cycle.  

“Until the next life, my sun…”

The alarm, though placed firmly next to Saitama’s ear, seemed so distant that he could have slept straight through it had his self-proclaimed disciple not woken him up.

“…Sensei!”

“HUH! Wha--!?” Saitama sat up quickly, accidentally smacking the cyborg square in the forehead as he looked around, disoriented, drool hanging loosely from his chin.

He was in his apartment.

Next to Genos, a cyborg.

Saitama reached forward and turned off his alarm; it was 9:00. Today was Big Sale Day at the supermarket.

The sun peeked through the open window, dancing with the curtains.

The sun.

Saitama blinked several times, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It was a normal Saturday morning, nothing out of the ordinary save for that dream and the fact that his alarm didn’t wake him up.

(That dream that felt so real it was almost like a memory…)

So why did everything feel so weird?

“Sensei?” Genos’s voice pierced through Saitama’s thoughts, causing the hero to jump. He stared into the cyborg’s golden eyes for a long, long moment.

…his bright golden eyes encased in black sclera, glistening with his own sunlight…

Saitama shook the thought out of his head and coughed, “Y-yeah, Genos?”

“I’m very sorry if I startled you,” the cyborg bowed, still maintaining his seiza. “But you seemed to be in distress, and you had mentioned that you wanted to make it to the supermarket before the sale began at 10:00, so I thought it appropriate to wake you.”

“O-oh,” Saitama shrugged. He figured as much but, “Thanks, Genos.”

The hero rose to his feet and trudged to the bathroom without a word. He was really struggling to shake that dream from his head.

Was it really a dream?

It had to have been. Saitama found himself standing on the moon (and he knew it had to have been the moon because he had definitely been there) but instead of looking out at the earth and the vast expanse of space, he was staring directly at an engorged sun, bright red as if ready to turn into a full supernova. And in front of that…well, the crying man certainly looked a lot like Genos, draped in beautiful sunlit robes, his hair tied back in a headband and his overall stature painted him to look like some kind of warrior.

But Genos was a cyborg, and the sun was definitely not on the brink of explosion.

“Is everything alright, Sensei?” Genos asked.

“Huh?” Saitama grunted, “Oh, yeah. I just had a really weird dream is all.”

“A dream?” the cyborg’s voice sounded surprised. “What about?”

“Well, I was on the moon again,” Saitama started, fumbling with his toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom. “And I think you were there, but you looked like some kind of—“

Saitama paused as he looked into the mirror.

Were those…did he…?

Why were there tattoos on his head?

“Sensei? Is everything alright?”

“Oi, did you take some permanent marker or some shit and put it on my head?” Saitama spat, leaning towards the mirror. He tentatively reached a hand up and patted the dark circle closest to his brow. And then the crescent above that circle. And the slimmer crescent above that and…

“God damn, what kind of prank is this?”

The thick clunking of Genos’s feet notified Saitama that the cyborg was in a small sprint much before he rushed through the door of the bathroom.

“What do you mean, Sensei!? I assure you that I did not draw on—Sensei.”

Genos’s voice had lowered.

Saitama now found himself staring at a very irritated looking cyborg.

“What?”

“What are you talking about?”

Now it was Saitama’s turn to let his frustration kick up a notch.

“I’m talking about these big ass circles drawn all over my head!” Saitama snapped, jabbing a finger at his forehead.

Genos stilled, his face blank in confusion.

Saitama raised an eyebrow, wondering why Genos looked so confused. Was it not Genos that did this? Had some freak show with a vendetta against Saitama snuck in just to do this? Was he still in the apartment? Why stop with some sharpie circles?

His train of thought was cut off, however, when Genos took three steps forward and encased Saitama’s head in his metal hands, rotating the hero’s neck to scan every square inch of his skull.

“Oi! What are you doing?” Saitama snapped, swatting Genos away. The cyborg, in turn, just looked sternly at his teacher

“There are no markings on you, Sensei,” was all he said.

“What are you talking about?” Saitama was boiling by this point. He glanced in the mirror and noted that, yes, there were in fact markings all over his head (and under his eyes too!? Oh come on!) “They’re all over me!”

“Sensei, I don’t see anything,” Genos shrugged, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I—!” Saitama started, but realized quickly that the more he argued his case, the more crazy he was going to sound and the more concerned he would make Genos. Giving in, the hero scratched the back of his head, “Let’s just get ready so we can catch the sale.”

Genos stiffened, squaring his shoulders, though his face seemed to light up slightly, “Yes!”

And with that, the cyborg about-faced and exited the bathroom, leaving Saitama to finish his morning routine in silence.

Yet still, every time Saitama even so much as glanced into the mirror, he saw a man with black tattoos looking back at him. It looked enough like his own reflection to confuse Saitama.