#yeah get it

When he opened the door to his dojo, Bang looked surprised to see Genos and Saitama standing in front him. They looked worse for wear, although Saitama was the only one to show an outward appearance of waning exhaustion.

“This is a surprise.” Bang smiled thinly. “I don’t think I’ve ever voluntarily had you two over. Saitama. Genos. What can I do for you?”

“We sorta need help,” Saitama said. “You see, we’re in a very weird situation. Somehow—”

“Sensei,” Genos burst out, interrupting Saitama. “Sorry, but I think we should explain inside.”

Saitama glanced around, suddenly aware of the glances that the residents milling around the dojo were giving him. “Good thinking, Genos. We don't want to start any weird rumors.”

“Rumors?” Bang eyed both Saitama and Genos curiously. “What have you gotten yourselves into that you need my help?” Then he noticed their hands, firmly clasped together like that of lovers.

“Ah, if this is about your relationship, I’m afraid I’m not qualified in, er, that area,” he began. “I’m sure there are many pamphlets that the Hero Association will have, if that’s what you need.”

Genos shot him a dark look.

“This is no joke! Sensei and I are in danger.” His free hand started glowing, and Saitama immediately reached over to clamp his fingers over the metal. ”Sensei, what are you doing? Silver Fang will either help us or I’ll force it—”

“Now, now, Genos,” Saitama hastened to say, giving him a quelling look. “Old man, Can we come in?”

“It’s Bang,” he corrected, glancing between them. Whatever was happening, it was clearly something that the two of them were ill equipped to handle. “If you must, please.” He motioned to the floor of his dojo. “I’ll fetch some tea while you two settle in. Excuse me.”

He disappeared. Saitama shared a look with Genos, and walked into the room, doing his best to ignore the look that Bang’s star pupil was giving them.

This is just temporary, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time. Probably.

Genos looked supremely unhappy in his position; the grip on the hand that was holding Saitama’s was limp and weak. Saitama could feel the waves of regret and disjointed anger rolling off of him like steam.

“I guess we can touch somewhere else now, huh?” Saitama suggested. He scooted over until his thigh was touching Genos’ and then ripped their hands apart. “My hand’s all sweaty. Gross.”

Genos remained silent, his brooding stretching on until Bang returned to the room, arms laden with a tray of tea.

“Here. I’m afraid you caught me when I’m nearly out of stock; I hope genmaicha is all right.”

“It’s fine. Thanks.” He was right-handed, but Saitama took his cup with his left hand, awkwardly trying to balance bending over without tearing himself from Genos’ thigh. The look that Bang was shooting him spoke volumes.

“We have a problem,” Saitama said. “A while ago, when I was walking back from my apartment, something weird happened.“

“What?” Bang asked, his eyes trained on their point of contact.

“Sensei was hurt,” Genos explained. When Bang’s eyebrows rose to his forehead, he continued: “That was what he initially thought, but in reality it was me being injured by a monster in a nearby city.”

“Somehow I was feeling his pain,” Saitama interjected. ”It was really weird.”

Genos nodded sharply, and began to tell Bang an abridged account of what had occurred between now and then; up until the moment that Saitama had discovered he wasn’t the only one that was feeling the effects of the link.

“At this point, sensei discovered that I was lying about what was really going on...”

“Why did you hide it?!” Saitama asked for the fifth time, feeling a scream bubble in the back of his throat. He swallowed against his rising anger; he hadn’t felt this frustrated in a very long time. Genos had a knack for getting to him, for better or worse. And this time he wasn’t going to stop until Genos finally told him the truth, no matter how much he pouted.

“I’m sorry,” Genos said. He was seated in front of Saitama, his head lowered in shame. “It was hardly anything, sensei. I didn’t think it pertinent to the current situation; I have failed you.”

“Well, it’s not about failing or not failing. Genos—” Saitama pinched the bridge of his nose. He could barely concentrate on anything for long with his head throbbing like an infected wound.  “Did you think you could hide it forever?” He gestured with his right hand, sweeping it between them. “This has everything to do with what’s happening!”

Saitama recalled the moment he had seen Genos crumpled against the wall, his expression shockingly vulnerable. Saitama completely abandoned thoughts of his own issues when he thought Genos was in trouble. The way that Genos looked at Saitama—like he wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and hide—had made his heart twist.

Seriously, he’d thought something was wrong! It turned out that Genos was just an idiot and a liar.

“Yes, I did.” Genos answered Saitama’s question honestly, albeit reluctantly. “Until our problem was solved, I didn’t want to burden you. This pain is nothing.”

“You keep saying that. It’s not nothing! How long has it being going on?”

“Sensei—” Genos started.

“How. Long.” Saitama grit out, grinding his teeth against the nausea that rolled over him in waves.

“I realized it soon after you found me at the grocery store,” Genos blurted, looking equally pained. His breathing was coming out in short bursts, like he was trying to hide what he was feeling. Saitama could guess what was happening. After all, his head felt similar, like a pressurized bomb. He nearly gagged, breathing through it until the worst had subsided.

Genos struggled to retain his stoic demander, but small, pained sounds kept escaping his mouth.

“Like I said, this is…nothing,” he gasped.

“The hell it is, idiot!” Saitama snapped. “Dude, we’re gonna die if this lasts any longer. Ahh, my head.” He rubbed his fingers against his temples with a muted groan. “We need to do something.”

“Proximity seems to be the key,” Dr. Kuseno piped in from his position hunched over his monitor. He sounded fairly calm in despite their situation, but his mouth was pressed into a hard line, sweat beading at his brow—he was worried, but much more apt at hiding it. “Have you two tried everything? No matter how close you get, the result is the same?”

“We used to be able to stay away from each other for at least a little bit. He went to the store and it wasn’t like this.” Saitama closed his eyes, willing the solution to come to him. It hadn’t really been noticeable until the second time, when he clamped his hands around Genos’ eyes—

“That’s it!” Saitama cried. Why hadn’t he considered it before? At Genos’ startled look, he elaborated: “We could touch. Uh, the link thing. Genos, remember? We haven’t tried it since—hey, get over here. Let’s try it.”

He was eager to have any sort of relief, even if it meant upsetting Genos’ delicate sensibilities. Genos made a face, but when he realized what Saitama was talking about, it was clear that he was willing to compromise. With that goal in mind, Saitama scrambled to get closer to Genos; once he was able to reach out, he nearly punched Genos in his haste to grab onto his arm.

When his fingers connected they froze, waiting for something to happen. A small shudder worked through Saitama as Genos’ pain rolled through him like a steamroller, endless and agonizing.

Shit, he thought. So this is what I felt back at the house. Somehow, it’s worse than mine.

He realized that Genos’ arm was bending under his fingertips, and there was a distinct pressure radiating from his own arm that was nigh on painful. Saitama instinctively tried to snatch his hand away, but Genos wrapped his fingers around his wrist and held it there.

“Sensei, I think it’s working!”

"What's happening?"Dr. Kuseno stood and moved closer, hovering behind Genos. "Is everything all right?"

For a few seconds, Saitama thought he might pass out; then, as suddenly as it had occurred, both his headache and the pain started to rapidly fade. When it was nothing more than a twinge, Saitama, collapsed into a heap, his fingers still digging into Genos’ arm.

“It’s really gone,” Saitama said softly, almost to himself. He could feel Genos’ amazement bleed through the link until it was stifled, only to be replaced by a surge of guilt.

When did my life get so weird? It seemed like the forefronts of Genos’ emotions were loud and clear, translated without any barriers. Saitama wondered what Genos was getting from him, if anything.

When he glanced over, Genos’ gaze was focused on the connection point between them. It was hard to detect the flurry of emotions that Genos worked through until he settled on guilt. Again.

“Sensei—“

“You don’t have to say it,” Saitama said.  He felt a sudden wave of soul-sucking exhaustion wash over him and closed his eyes, wondering which of them—what with their shared emotions—was feeling it the most. “We’re here now and there’s nothing we can do about it. You can feel sorry later.” He scrubbed his fingers over his eyes until they stung. “Man, I wanna sleep.”

“Sensei, I’ll fix this,” Genos said, as if he hadn’t spoken. He gazed at Saitama, determination filling the space between them. “I will do anything to make it happen. I promise.”

“Mm,” Saitama hummed. Now that he was lying down, it was almost impossible to keep his eyes open. He was so tired. The warm blanket of sleep was claiming him faster than he thought possible. 

“You do that. Good luck, Genos.”

Just before Saitama started drifting off, he thought he felt something suspiciously warm curl and squeeze around his fingers.

After that, Saitama was out. Apparently Genos had carried him to the upper floor, and after a quick test, discovered they had to remain contact.

Saitama realized that himself later. When he’d woken up, he was on a strange bed tangled in Genos limbs; which, in retrospect, wasn’t as awkward as he would have expected. Waking up surrounded by another person’s warmth was odd, sure, but they normally slept pretty close together. Sometimes, he’d wake up halfway onto Genos’ futon. This wasn’t that different.

At least, that’s what Saitama told himself.

When he extracted himself from the embrace, he was surprised that there was a good deal of heat radiating from Genos’ body. After thinking it through, he came to the conclusion that Genos must had turned up his heat output while they slept—a consideration that Saitama appreciated, but didn’t think was necessary. He was sweating.

Genos is always so worried about me, he thought, staring at Genos’ sleeping face. I would have thought that was creepy a long time ago.

Pushing that concern aside, he made as if to get off the bed, but after there was no longer a point of contact between them, his headache came rushing back with a punishing force.

He was clinging to Genos in seconds, his hands pressed against the warm metal on his shoulder. Genos twitched, but didn’t wake, for which Saitama was grateful. He needed a few seconds to get used to the idea that they were going to have to perpetually stay this like until they figured out what the hell was going on.

When Genos finally woke up, Saitama was wondering how he was going to break it to him that he really had to pee.

“So, sensei suggested that we find someone who was in the Hero Association, who would have a lot of experience with strange events. Naturally, we thought of you. So, we came here,” Genos concluded. In his retelling, he omitted most of what occurred, including waking up together. Saitama’s ears started to burn when he was reminded of the feeling of waking up in Genos’ arms; frankly, it was embarrassing.

"I see," Bang said, staring at them, his gaze considering. "I see."

Saitama took it as a good sign. He felt Genos’ echoing hope through the link. The more they touched, the weirder it felt. He could distinguish between their separate emotions better now, but it didn’t make it any less startling for Saitama, who wasn’t used to such a jarring experience.

“You have thought of something,” Genos observed, leaning forward. His fingers resting primly over his knees curled into fists.

“Hmm.” Bang rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Your story reminds me of something in particular, but—well, it might not be what you're looking for.”

“What? Tell us,” Genos urged. Saitama nodded, moving his fingers until they curled around the crook of Genos’ elbow. The contact between them was helpful for the effects of the link, but Saitama suspected that barrier of clothing was making it worse, because it felt much better to have direct contact. He decided that Genos’ elbow was a safe bet because every time their hands brushed, something in Saitama’s stomach fluttered uncomfortably.

“Years ago there was a case of something similar, but I remember so little—”

“Please. Anything will help.” Genos bowed his head in a rare show of respect, his emotions swirling. Guilt, hope, desperation. Saitama restrained himself from patting Genos on the back. Being privy to Genos’ emotions felt invasive, and Saitama tried to focus on what Bang was saying.

“All right, but it’s an old story. Years ago, when the Hero Association was founded, there were rumors.” Bang looked between them sipped his tea. “Citizens were claiming to feel immense pain, even though they were in perfect health.”

Bang paused and took another slow sip of his tea.

Saitama could feel how much Genos was restraining himself from interrupting and asking more questions.

“Those affected spoke of feeling wounded while doing daily tasks; yet these wounds yielded no blood, and no mark. At first the Hero Association thought that it was just that—a rumor—but instances of similar cases were reported across multiple cities.” Bang waved his hand to and fro as he listed them. “Pain, headaches, nausea; very similar to yours.”

“Really?!” Genos asked, raising his fist in triumph. “That must be it! Who did this? How did they remove the effects?”

“Well, that’s what I’m getting to.” Bang stroked his mustache and nodded to Genos. “You two live together, so your situation is different. It’s interesting to note that this phenomenon did not discriminate. Old or young, male or female, it didn’t matter. What struck the Hero Association as odd at the time was that there was one common element between every case.”

“What was it?”

Bang looked uneasy as he regarded the two of them, lines of worry wrinkling his aged face.

“Every single one of them died.”

Saitama felt the color drain from his face. Fear rocketed through him, and he couldn’t tell if was Genos’ or his own.

“That’s all you have?” Saitama heard himself ask.

“I will never let that happen!” Genos declared heatedly. “There must be something else! Silver Fang, tell us again, and be more specific. Leave no detail to our imagination.”

“I’m afraid I’ve told you all I know.” Bang folded his hands, shaking his head. “The investigation never went anywhere. I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“It’s fine. There must be a reason,” Saitama said, chewing on his lower lip. Although being up against something that was a challenge was interesting, he really, really didn’t want to die, “so we’ll think of something.”

Looking to his right for confirmation, Saitama noticed that Genos had gone silent, his eyes unfocused. He remembered that Genos had mentioned having a database of information stored in his system—kind of like a computer.

Does he get WiFi in there?

"What is Genos doing?" Bang asked.

"Checking his brain," Saitama replied, "I think."

"Hmm." Bang studied Genos for a few seconds before turning to Saitama. “While he's busy, Saitama, why don’t you tell me a little more about this ‘link’. You said that it occurred without warning. Are you sure there’s nothing that would have led to these circumstances?”

“I don’t think so,” Saitama trailed off, pursing his lips in thought. “I even went back to check where it happened, but I couldn't sense a thing. All I found was a stupid flyer.”

“What about?” Bang asked, for the sake of conversation.

“If I remember correctly..." Saitama tapped his chin with his finger. "It said that they could help people find their soulmate. It's weird, right? Do people really buy into that kind of thing?”

“What?” Recognition sparked in Bang’s eyes. “Wait, what was the name?”

“I don’t remember.” Saitama’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know something, old man?”

“I didn’t think about it until now,” Bang said carefully. “During the investigation I told you about, there was an organization that said they knew about these occurrences and called it ‘the fate of destiny’. Through a special service, they claimed they could find these people, these ‘soulmates’. But,” Bang’s lips worked silently for a moment, “that’s where it becomes rather strange. When the fuss died down, they, too, disappeared. That was years ago. And you said you came by this poster? How peculiar.”

“Really?” Saitama blinked. “Dude, I kinda wish I’d kept it now.”

“Nothing!” Genos suddenly hissed to his right, lifting his head. “I couldn’t find anything in my searches. The cases you spoke of were documented,” he nodded to Bang, “but little was said. What could have happened?”

“Maybe we could check out that flyer thing,” Saitama suggested. “Do they have a website?”

“Website?” Genos blinked. "Flyer?"

Bang brought him up to speed, and they watched as Genos' eyes grew wider.

“I see,” Genos said. “A flyer advertising soulmates? Although your suggestion is logical, I doubt that the website would still be operating, sensei. They would have to pay for the domain.”

“It’s worth a try,” Bang supplied. “I have a computer upstairs. Let’s see if I can remember the name.”

Bang led them to his upper floor and into a room with an old computer. Saitama felt Genos' displeasure, but he remained silent as Bang booted it up.

"Here. Will this do, Genos?"

"Yes." Genos nodded and sat down, resting his fingers over the keys as the desktop came into view. Once they wrangled the browser into opening, Genos tried a few random names, but nothing hit the mark. To his left, Bang was rifling through a cabinet of files in an attempt to find something that would trigger his memory.

Meanwhile, Saitama was unsuccessfully trying to remember the flyer.

"It was glittery, I think. Soulmates, soulmates," he muttered, "what would you name a group that helps you find your soulmate?"

"Soul searching?" Genos tried. "Soul match?"

"No, no. Ah, I don't remember!"

"Did it have the word soul in it? Maybe it was suggestive. Something like, finding destiny?"

Saitama shook his head. "No, I don't think so—"

"That's it!" Bang exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet. "Soul Finder! I remember now how the name struck me. Genos, search 'Soul Finder'."

"Okay. We will see if it works." Genos immediately went to work, fingers flying over the keyboard. They waited for a tense moment as the browser loaded his request. The first link led to the correct website, presumably, and Genos clicked on it.

“What—? It’s really here.”

Genos’ fingers stilled over the keyboard as the page loaded. To his shock, the website was still running. The front page of the website displayed a few different couples hugging each other, expressions of bliss on their faces.

“It really is! ‘Soul Finder: Find your soulmate today,’” Saitama read slowly, leaning over Genos’ shoulder. His hand was resting inches from the crook of Genos’ neck, and he had to tamp down the urge to brush his thumb against the soft skin of his nape. He was getting used to touching Genos, which was starting to weird him out.

A lot of things are changing, Saitama thought. Things between us are different now. I don't know how I feel about it.

“It appears that someone has kept the site running. But for what purpose?” Genos clicked on different links, reading the text for any relevant information before moving on. Mostly it was about the ways in which the company could start the process to finding someone’s ‘soulmate’, but nothing jumped out at either of them.

“There, Genos.” Bang pointed to a small square of text that read “sign-up here”.

Genos followed a link that loaded a page that included a file for the signup form. After downloading and opening it, his eyebrows rose. The information they required was incredibly specific, going on for pages and pages.

“Why is there an insistence on so much detail? Look,” said Genos. Saitama obeyed and leaned closer. Genos’ hair brushed his cheek when he turned his head. “It asks about the current living situation, but not only that, the questions include things that cause anxiety, hopes, successes, failures… the list goes on.”

“What an odd request,” said Bang. “To find your soulmate would require specific information, but this seems strange.”

“Mm. That’s weird,” Saitama agreed. “What do you think they were trying to do?” Tired of hunching over one arm, he leaned back and gave himself enough room to rest his elbows on Genos’ shoulders. Consequently, it was the perfect position to rest his chin on Genos’ head, so that was what he did.

Beneath him Genos went very still.

“I—I do not know,” Genos stammered. “It is possible that it's a hoax: by tracking down someone that matches a specific set of information, they could call them soulmates and be done with it. What do you think, sensei?”

Saitama shrugged, and when he remembered Genos couldn’t see it, waved a thumbs up in front of his face.

“It’s worth a try. Can we contact them?” Saitama pointed to the corner of the screen. “What’s that number?”

Without another word, Genos reached into his pocket for his phone and dialed the number. Then he put it to his ear and waited, but within seconds his phone informed him that the number was no longer in use.

“Tch.” Genos jammed his phone in his pocket. “It goes nowhere. It was probably once their company phone line. What should we do?”

“I dunno,” Saitama trailed off, studying the page. “Why don’t we find someone who made the website. Can you find that out, Genos?”

Genos was silent for a moment. Then, Saitama felt him nod.

“None of the names are listed, but with my laptop at home it might be possible to find a name with a more complete search. We should return.”

“I guess.” Saitama leaned away from Genos and scratched the back of his head. “This is so annoying. By the way, what should we have for dinner? It’s cold, so maybe a hot pot?”

“We can buy ingredients on the way back,” Genos agreed. “Do you have coupons with you?”

Saitama nodded proudly. “I never leave the house without ‘em!”

“You are truly a master of sales. I should have thought to bring some.” There was a pang of frustration from Genos before it faded. With a start, Saitama realized he hadn’t felt anything from him in a while. Furthermore, the emotions that he had once described as a ‘torrent’ was now barely a trickle. Saitama was aware of the bond, but it took concentration to really feel it.

“Let’s go,” Saitama said, pulling himself away from Genos. He kept his hand on the curve of his shoulder. “Bang, do you have extra coupons?”

Bang, who had been silent for most of the exchange, shook his head, wearing a peculiar smile. “I don’t. If you two discover the cause of this, do let me know. I’m curious to know the end of this story.”

“Got it,” said Satiama. “Ready, Genos?”

Genos nodded sharply.

“At once, sensei!”  

The walk home was awkward.

Saitama first tried wrapping his arm around Genos’ shoulder, or hooking their arms together, but there wasn’t a way to walk for long without it feeling physically uncomfortable, so it fell to holding hands.

It wouldn’t have been such a big deal if Genos wasn't high profile hero. Not only that, but he was named “Cyborg Prince” for a reason; Genos was incredibly popular.

As they walked, people started to notice them. They garnered mostly startled looks, and not long after they were hurrying through the city, cell phone cameras started off at random intervals. Saitama wished they had chosen to call a cab, and tried to ignore his surrounds. Thankfully, most of the people noticed Genos first and would fall into innocent pointing and giggling, but those that were observant enough to recognize both of the heros were far more hostile. Saitama, practically a villain in the association, was not nearly as popular. At one point, somebody spat at his feet.

“I'm not popular like you,” Saitama commented, “so this is pretty much what I expected.”

“I will incinerate anyone else who dares to look at you without the respect you deserve,” Genos replied seriously.

After that, the only reason that nobody approached them was because Genos wore a very dark expression on his face, daring anyone to even try to remark on their relationship. Saitama could feel his rage bubbling under his skin, but it felt muted—like Saitama was looking at it through a window.

“Well," he patted Genos' shoulder, "I don’t really care one way or another. It’ll blow over, right?”

“I certainly hope so.” Genos frowned, eyeing the random passerby, and squeezed Saitama’s hand. Saitama opened his mouth to comment on this, but then rationalized that Gnos probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Plus, it didn’t really bother him as much as it should have, so he decided not to mention it.

They bought ingredients from the grocery store, argued with the cashier about the expiration date on one of the sales, and when they were finished, Saitama practically dragged Genos back to the apartment. He wanted to eat, sleep, and find out what triggered their bond: not necessarily in that order.

When they crossed the threshhold, the first thing Saitama did was drag Genos into the main room and sit them both in front of the table, groceries be damned.

"Ahh," he sighed, "I missed home. What about you, Genos?"

"It is good to be back." Genos pressed his foot against Saitama's leg and released his hand so he could sort through the groceries, setting aside what they would need for the hotpot. "We can also now conduct a more thorough search for our mystery agent."

"Mm, but first—" Saitama slapped his hand on the table and leaned forward, "—hot pot! I'll cut the vegetables if you prepare the broth. Deal?"

"Deal," Genos replied, sounding pleased.  They stood and moved into the kitchen, awkwardly trying to work around each other without losing contact. More than once they accidentally released each other at the same time and bore the brunt of what they were holding at bay. Even seconds of it was enough to make Saitama feel nausea. Once they developed a rhythm it became easier, and Saitama pushed his worries aside for another time.

I'll leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's me, he thought, forcing his knife through the leek.

After a while, their transitions became almost seamless. Genos would use Saitama's hand as a lifeline when he moved about the kitchen, and Saitama gave him the same treatment. For once, he was relieved he didn't have a lot of space.

When he was finished chopping the vegetables, Genos took the pot to the table one-handed while Saitama reached over and plugged in the burner. Then he neatly gathered and fashioned the ingredients into the pot.

"Okay! I haven't had hot pot on a while. What about you, Genos? Did you eat it a lot when you were a kid?"

"Sometimes," Genos replied, but didn't elaborate any further. "I prefer oil-based dishes now. I would add some here if it wouldn't harm you, sensei."

"Weirdo," Saitama teased, then he remembered that he hadn't watched the news in a while. He reached for the remote and turned on the television to see what the situation was in the outside world, his curiosity mounting. As usual, monsters were attacking, and it didn't seem like it was getting better any time soon.

"Hey, Genos," Saitama said as something occurred to him. "What about the Hero Association? I'm surprised they haven't called you in for anything."

"Ah, about that." Genos looked down. “I turned my phone on silent in case there were any calls. As it stands, I can’t do hero work.”

“I...see. That makes sense.” Saitama poked at one of the hunks of meat, his concern for their situation continuously hovering at the back of his mind. “Are you worried? About us. I mean, what if we can’t figure it out?”

“We will,” Genos said. His confidence was meant to mask how the anxiety that Saitama could feel thrumming between them. Saitama wasn't stupid enough to mention it, so he said nothing in reply, and focused on their meal until they were finished.

“Dude, are you almost done? I’m bored.”

“Almost, sensei. I have conducted a few separate searches, and there are a variety of names. Narrowing them to a smaller pool will take some time.”

Waiting sucks, Saitama thought. They’d been sitting like this for at least an hour, the remnants of their hot pot sitting in the sink, unwashed. While Genos had worked on his computer, Saitama laid on his stomach and swapped between watching the weather channel and the news. To keep in contact with Genos, his feet rested in his lap. They were toasty from Genos’ heat.

“This is taking forever. What kind of searches are you doing?” As admirable as their goal was, the pressure of Genos’ typing was starting to get annoying; it was like something was pecking constantly at his fingers. Or something. The shared feelings were hard to describe.

“Don't be impatient, sensei,” Genos reminded him. “I have isolated a few names that seem promising. I will check the addresses to see if they match and then we can visit these people.”

As he said this Genos was already marking down names and typing them into the search engine. Saitama watched as he copied the photos that were available from a simple search and pasted them into a document with the correlating name.

That’s dedication. He’s really amazing, isn’t he. Saitama sat up and crawled over so he could watch what he was doing, leaning his chin on Genos shoulder. When Genos had narrowed it down to small list of names and faces, Saitama asked, “What are the names?”

While he pointed to the appropriate photo, Genos started to mechanically listed them off. When he named someone further down the line, Saitama stopped him, staring at the accompanying photo.

“Wait. I think I remember her. Where have I seen that face…? Ah!” He stood up, nearly forgetting that he needed to remain in contact with Genos. “That woman! I remember her from the flyer. She was dressed in a suit and had a strange look on her face, but that was definitely her.”

“The flyer you found in the street? Really?” Genos stood with him, excitement bleeding between their bond. “That’s amazing, sensei! We should find her immediately!”

Saitama nodded to Genos' document. “Where does she live?”

Genos bent over his computer and quickly conducted a search. After a tense minute, he lifted his head and looked at Saitama. His eyes were wide and muted triumph coursed through the bond.

“Rina lives in...City G. We can make it tonight if we hurry, but a good night’s sleep is necessary to stay alert, so I suggest we leave in the morning.”

“Nah, let's sleep. I'm actually kinda tired.”

"Of course. Shall we sleep now? That way we can get an early start."