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One week earlier…
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—So the creature that was causing all that havoc with the mosquitoes was… a mosquito woman? Who would have thought? —Fubuki remarked with bemusement, picking up her bowl of rice and elegantly helping herself to some fish.
—Good thing I wasn't there. I can't stand insects. How revolting!
Tatsumaki made an adorable grimace, scrunching her nose and clutching tightly to Saitama's shirt sleeve. It was hard not to find her endearing when she made those childlike gestures, which made him let out a satisfied smile without thinking too much about it.
—Well, I couldn't interrogate her to find out why she was attacking that way. At least I managed to recover that thing so it could be investigated —said Saitama, calmly pointing toward the glass container that sat on the desk. Inside, suspended in a preserving liquid, the mosquito woman's head was visible, eyes closed as if sleeping in an unsettling tranquility—. What I still can't believe is that she's still alive.
—She isn't conscious… —Fubuki explained, serious as she chewed and swallowed before continuing—. It's as if she were in a deep coma, unable to wake. But what's surprising is the mental wall protecting her memories. From what I've managed to extract so far, someone — or several someones — made her in a laboratory. She isn't a common kaijin like the ones we usually face. And yes… she had a mission to find someone.
—Good to know…. But will you be able to discover her identity and the location she came from…? —asked Saitama, eating another piece of fish that Fubuki offered him.
Fubuki smiled with confidence, leaning over to hug his arm playfully.
—Who do you think I am, Darling? I'm the number one heroine of Class A. Breaking that mental wall will take me barely two days.
—That's good, so I'll be able to… prove that my promotion… as commissioner… was worth it. And thank you for the bite, my dear, but you're not letting me res…
—I could do it too… and in fewer days —Tatsumaki murmured with a pout, shoving another spoonful of rice into Saitama's mouth with a hint of annoyance.
Saitama swallowed his mouthfuls quickly with some difficulty and gently stroked her head with a smile, while cleaning her smudged mouth with a napkin. She could be sweet, but she had terrible table manners.
—Don't worry about it, my dear. Maybe Fubuki is good with the mind, but remember: in raw power, you are unmatched. Something we have in common, which is why we make such a great pair.
The blush on Tatsumaki's face was immediate; she hid against Saitama's chest, concealing the smile she couldn't contain. He simply let out a calm laugh before adding:
—Ah, I also want to mention that in a week someone will be coming to visit us.
—And who is that? —asked Fubuki, raising an eyebrow.
—If I understood correctly, his name is Genos. I promised I'd hear him out since… by accident, I broke his legs. But don't worry!, he's a cyborg; his parts can be replaced, hehe.
The two sisters looked at each other in silence for a second. Then they both sighed in unison, with the quiet exasperation of people who already know the person beside them far too well.
—Well, I have no objections —replied Fubuki calmly, setting her bowl on the table—. We're moving in three weeks to the new apartment I found anyway. I won't be home that day. And you, Oneesan? What do you think?
—Neither will I… —answered Tatsumaki, with her usual affectionate smile—. I just hope that boy knows how to behave. I'm already curious to see this young man who caught my dear husband's attention.
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—I don't think he'd mind if his visitor lost an arm or a leg —she said with a calm that was more threatening than any shout—. You'll just say you fell. Won't you?
The pressure increased. My knees sank another centimeter into the ground. I heard the internal creaking of my own gears yielding under a force I couldn't counteract, and I understood with deeply uncomfortable clarity that my components were reaching their structural limit. She wasn't going to take a limb — she wanted to erase me from the face of the earth.
I assessed the situation. There was no way out. There was no valid argument. There was no available course of action that would improve my position.
I thought about the doctor. I thought about everything I hadn't yet accomplished: the revenge against the mad cyborg, the power I had pursued ever since I stopped being fully human. All of it, cut short here, at this door, because I had failed to identify in time who was standing before me.
I closed my eyes. I silently said goodbye to Dr. Stench.
—Tatsumaki, who is it? Who knocked on the door?
The pressure vanished in an instant.
My body was straightened brusquely, the dents corrected in seconds, restoring me to exactly the position I had been in before I fell. It was not delicate. It was efficient.
Saitama sensei finally appeared in the entrance, adjusting the cap of his uniform and looking as though he was getting ready for work. He looked at me for a moment with genuine surprise and a smile.
—Oh. You're the kid from the other time. What was your name again? I know it started with G…
—Genos —she cut in before I could respond.
I turned my head. Tatsumaki was looking at Saitama sensei with a smile completely different from the one three seconds ago. Open, warm, without the slightest trace of the coldness that had nearly destroyed me. The contrast was so absolute that my systems took a moment to process it as real.
—Remember his name is Genos, sweetheart. He's the young man you were expecting. Why don't we invite him in?
—Good idea. Genos, come in and sit down. I'll serve you some of the tea my wife makes, it's very good. But… can cyborgs drink tea…?
I didn't respond immediately. I stood at the threshold with my gaze fixed on an undefined point, trying to arrange the data from the last two minutes into something coherent. I had nearly been destroyed by the strongest heroine. Then I had been repaired. Then I had been invited to have tea.
It was then that I felt myself being pulled inside.
Tatsumaki had placed herself at my side without my hearing her move, and leaned slightly toward me with the same enchanting smile she gave Saitama, but with a feeling entirely different. Pure bloodlust.
—If you say a single word about what happened… I will insert each of your limbs into every opening you have. Or don't have. Is that clear?
I opened my mouth.
She had already turned away. She walked in with a light step, almost skipping, as if she had just remembered something pleasant, and sat down beside Saitama with the ease of someone who hasn't threatened anyone all day.
I stood in the entrance for exactly thirty seconds.
Then I went inside, sat at the table in my usual posture, and took the cup of tea sensei offered me. I would not bring that up again.
—Well, if I recall correctly, you told me you wanted something from me, didn't you? —said sensei, picking up a cup of tea with the same composure with which he might discuss the weather—. And I'm also glad to see you've been repaired.
At his side, Mrs. Tatsumaki was offering him a biscuit directly into his mouth, with an expression of genuine satisfaction.
—Yes… yes, sir. Since my parts are robotic, they can be replaced easily. But one thing, sensei: have you ever had any artificial parts put in?
—No, I don't use any of that.
—And that plating on your head?
—That's my skin.
—How strange. One would think you're too young to have lost your hair.
—There are people who, through genetics or some condition, lose their hair. It's not really that unusual.
—…
—What?
—Nothing, sensei… only that, for a moment, I felt you were about to scold me.
—Why would I do that for calling me bald? I work with several colleagues who were surprised when I lost my hair. There were jokes for a while. So many came and went that I stopped making the effort to respond to them. Although thinking about it now, it's been quite a while since anyone has said anything. It's curious to hear it again. Now that I think about it, it's actually kind of funny.
At that exact instant, my sensors detected a green fluctuation surrounding my cup, until one of the sides cracked with a dry snap. A warning. I had barely escaped making the same mistake twice in the same day.
—I'm glad to know that, sensei.
—Well, don't worry about it. Tell me, what did you want to say?
I looked at him directly. This was the moment.
—Well… Four years ago when I was fifteen I was a normal human with a family. Even though we were poor and very humble, we lived a happy and peaceful life, until that fateful day came. A mad cyborg lost control and attacked our town. We don't know what happened to him, perhaps…
—Wait a moment!!
Mrs. Tatsumaki raised her hand.
—What is it, sweetheart?
—I'm not sure, but I had a feeling that if you kept talking… it would be the most insufferable thing in the world! I can be a calm woman, but I will not allow you to stress my husband with an endless speech! Summarize in twenty words or fewer!
—Don't worry about it, my dear —said sensei, stroking her head tenderly. Instantly, Tatsumaki returned to showing that childlike, enchanting smile that contrasted so sharply with her irritation of moments before—. Lately I try to listen to those I face, though sometimes the stories are far too long. And I already know about the cyborg incident. One of my colleagues at the station told me about it. Just tell me your objective.
I processed his words. Reorganized. Went straight to the point.
—Alright, sensei… here is the short version. Please!, teach me to be as strong as you are. I beg you. —I bowed my head low to make my point.
Silence.
Sensei held his gaze on an undefined point for several seconds. Then he turned toward his wife. She looked back at him. No words passed between them, but something was communicated in that exchange that my sensors were unable to classify. Then sensei raised his eyes to the ceiling, as if perceiving something I couldn't detect, and brought them back to me.
—Genos, how old are you? —he asked in a measured voice.
—19 years old, sensei.
—You're so young. —he thought for a moment—. Very well. I'd like to see how you progress. I accept teaching you, but I warn you it will be demanding. Are you ready?
—Yes, sir!
I stood with determination. And then my sensors picked up something.
—Sensei, I'm detecting a presence approaching at high speed…
—Huh…?
Out of nowhere, a kaijin of intense green, with the sharp and angular build of a giant mantis, burst through the ceiling of the living room without any prior warning, sending rubble and dust raining down on everyone present. However, before it could even emit a sound, sensei had already finished with it, destroying its head. A single movement, so fast it was impossible to follow with the eye, and the creature had simply ceased to be a problem. The silence that followed was as abrupt as the monster's own appearance.
Sensei took barely an instant to fully react, and when he did, he looked down at his own fist stained with thick purplish blood, then raised his eyes toward the enormous hole left open in the ceiling, and a grimace of genuine annoyance spread slowly across his face.
—Damn it! Why on earth did they break my ceiling?
My sensors fired at that precise instant.
—Sensei, there are more outside. I'll handle them.
I leapt through the balcony.
What I found below stopped me completely.
The street was unrecognizable. Bodies of destroyed creatures in every direction: split apart, reduced to fragments, some turned into smoldering stains on the asphalt. The level of destruction was systematic and absolute — not the result of a fight but of an annihilation.
Only one remained standing. A cyborg gorilla of considerable build, kneeling with its forehead against the pavement, trembling under the weight of a foot pressing its head down. Before it, sensei held his wife with one arm, and both of them looked at it with an expression that needed no explanation.
—You destroyed my ceiling. Did no one ever teach you manners? —said sensei.
Mrs. Tatsumaki said nothing. Her eyes were gleaming and some of her energy was manifesting around her — perhaps she had been the one to eliminate most of them.
—I'm sorry! Please, don't kill me like you killed my colleagues! Or like the Beast King! I beg you! —the gorilla sobbed.
—That's what you get for making me angry and ruining our home. Be grateful I was gentle and merciful with you, dear. —replied Tatsumaki with a serene smile, hiding her face behind sensei's shoulder.
At that instant my sensors registered what was happening behind that back.
Her expression was completely different. The smile had vanished, replaced by a grimace that had nothing serene about it, while her telekinesis continued working in silence: crushing remains, compressing bones, dismantling what was left of the intruders, ensuring that not one survived. A mutant tiger, too badly injured to fight but desperately trying to crawl away, was dismembered without her turning her head or sensei noticing.
I filed that data too. It was important.
—Sensei! —I approached quickly.
—You arrive at a good moment —he said with his usual expression, releasing his wife, who floated gently in place—. Get ready. We're going directly to the House of Evolution.
He leapt back into the apartment before I could respond.
—Huh?!... Right now?!
—Don't be surprised, metal boy —Mrs. Tatsumaki cut in, frowning—. We already had the information days ago. We obtained it directly from the mosquito woman's mind. I have no intention of sitting through another two-hour narration about the life of the leader of that pile of scrap.
She kicked the gorilla. The gorilla squealed with utter humiliation.
—But how was that possible? —I asked, still astonished.
—We Espers are superior in everything that concerns the mind! A brain as mediocre as that could never be a match for our intellect.
—So it was you who obtained the information, Mrs. Tatsumaki?
She crossed her arms and looked away.
—I'm not answering that —she murmured, in a tone that was stubbornly childlike for someone who had just finished describing their own intellectual superiority.
I decided not to press further.
—Anyway —she continued, turning toward the gorilla—. I left you alive for a reason: while we're gone, you repair the ceiling. If you don't do it properly… I hope you're fond of the idea of your head becoming a charming flowerpot for my cactus. Is that clear?
The gorilla drove its forehead into the ground. The rubble beneath its body vibrated with its nod.
At that moment sensei reappeared with his police uniform already tidied. In one hand he carried a glass jar. Inside, the mosquito woman's head, with eyes wide open and a smile that seemed distinctly uncomfortable about the situation.
—Alright… let's go.
—You see, Master Saitama, my information was correct. You shouldn't have left me in the bathtub alone, in silence, bathed in vinegar —said the Mosquito Girl's head in a trembling voice.
—Don't play innocent. You tried to give false information more than once. Besides, you made my wife angry, and that's on you for calling her a presumptuous arrogant cow. And I don't want monsters prowling around the apartment on a daily basis. That's why you're coming home with us.
Mrs. Tatsumaki recovered her pleasant expression almost immediately, though her cheeks puffed up for just an instant before she smoothed it over.
—My dear… do you really intend to carry that thing around for the entire trip? —she asked in a sweet voice, though the irritation in her gaze didn't fully disappear.
—Of course. She's already subdued, she'll guide us well. And besides, Genos will carry her. Won't you?
—Yes, sir!
I took hold of the jar with both hands. For a moment she looked at me, and I, driven by the resentment bottled up after our battle, gave her a mocking smile, reminding her of her sorry state. She looked back at me with fury.
—Well… —said sensei, lifting his wife into his arms with absolute nonchalance—. Let's go. Tomorrow there's a special day at the supermarket.
Mrs. Tatsumaki's blush was immediate. She hid her face against his shoulder and broke into a childlike smile.
He launched from the ground with a clean leap and moved at high speed in the direction of the House of Evolution. I followed close behind, straining to keep up.
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—Are you truly certain about this? Can it really be wise to welcome someone like that here? —asked one of the clones of Dr. Genus, "leader of the House of Evolution," in a trembling voice, standing before the main entrance to the base.
—Don't worry —replied Genus through the communicator, in a solemn tone—. This facility is secure. I have personally improved every trap. I thought two years of improvements would be enough to match his level, but I was wrong. He emerged from nowhere with a colossal power — a debut impossible to ignore. I'm surprised the media and the Heroes Association haven't given him the attention he deserves. He is a specimen I must study and capture before those idiots react. That is why we will prepare a welcoming environment for him to consider joining us. And if he turns out to be dangerous… you will release my creation. It was designed to not stop until its target is dead… Oh. They're already here.
The clone swallowed. He walked to the entrance, activated the armored gate and forced a smile.
—It is an honor to receive you, esteemed guests. Please, co…
He couldn't finish.
A green sphere caught him in the air in a fraction of a second, and in that same instant a roar of fire consumed the entrance as if a volcano had exploded from within. The flames engulfed walls, traps and structures with a violence that made no distinction between metal and concrete. The heat was so brutal that the beams melted before the floor had finished fracturing, and within seconds what had been an armored facility was reduced to a blackened crater, still smoking, surrounded by embers that continued burning in silence.
The clone trembled inside the sphere. His legs had no strength and his skin was soaked in sweat.
—Genos… why did you do that?
—I'm sorry, sensei. I determined it would be the most efficient way to resolve the situation in a single blow.
—Yes, but we could have gone inside first to check what they had prepared. That's not how investigative work functions. Although look, Tatsumaki saved one. Thank you, my dear.
The small woman floated at his side with her arms crossed and an expression difficult to classify between contained fury and satisfaction. She lowered the clone gently to the ground, intact, and tucked herself against the shoulder of the aforementioned Saitama as he ran a hand over her head with tenderness.
The clone tried to collect himself. Then he saw Saitama approaching with a relaxed stride, planting himself before him with a completely casual expression and asking:
—Sorry for the trouble. Are you the leader of this facility?
He couldn't take it. He stammered something incoherent, lost complete control of his body and collapsed unconscious on the ground.
Saitama looked at him for a moment with a grimace of genuine bewilderment.
—Seems like he wasn't.