Chapter Text
Like all the larger cities, Z City had a monster problem. Monsters seemed to want to terrorize people, so the bigger the population center the better. Unlike most of the other big cities, Z didn't have any prominent heroes. Sure there were some fan favorites. Mumen Rider was a perennial top tenner, Tank Top Black Hole was getting some attention. Silver Fang's dojo was on the outskirts of town, but he rarely did any actual hero work.
But that was a good thing for Genos' purposes. The bigger cities were already full of photographers, professional and amateur alike. Z City didn't have a “scene” yet, didn't have much but blurry cell phone footage and the local news, who rarely managed to get there in time for good shots.
Wakahisa Genos, 19 years old, full of dreams and caffeine, knew he could make his mark in this city.
Of course, a few months passed with hardly more than the usual candid shots and monster aftermaths, but that was to be expected. And, okay, his finances were running low, and the pictures he managed to sell were barely paying his rent, but there was bound to be a break soon. The rumors were even stronger here in the city itself. Rumors about ninjas. Rumors about mosquitoes. Rumors about the abandoned area on the edge of town.
Genos tended to spend his days wandering areas like the parks, or shopping district, or anywhere a festival was happening. There hadn't been festivals like this in his hometown, and there was a little part of him wondering if he stood out. Just another small town hick, making a fool of himself trying to follow his dreams in the city.
It was the start of Genos' third month in Z City when he found it. The big break. The thing that would kickstart his career and bring him (not fame, he didn't care about fame, if he cared about fame he wouldn't be taking pap shots of heroes in the first place) stability.
Safety wasn't a high concern, Genos knew if he ran into trouble he could hide or outrun it, and ideally a hero would come along and save the day anyway. So he didn't think twice about following a lead to the abandoned neighborhood, slipping through an open gate covered in warning signs, hopping over cracks in the road and going deeper into the ghost town.
It made for a good subject by itself. His first love was urban shots like this anyway, real photography, showing the hidden beauty in imperfection. This neighborhood was worn, empty, rundown, but it had been loved once. It had been someone's home.
He was so caught up in finding the right lens for the shuttered tailor's shop that he dismissed the heavy footsteps behind him. In a big city, loud noises could mean anything, not like back home. Finally finding the right angle to get the dust motes in front of the boarded-up windows, Genos crouched to take the shot.
Right before a blast of energy sailed above his head.
On instinct, probably looking like an idiot, Genos dropped and rolled out of the street, popping up behind an empty newspaper dispenser. A huge green lizard, the size of a bus, slowly turned toward him. It opened its mouth, and Genos could see an orange glow getting brighter and brighter down its gullet.
“Hey!” someone shouted, a blurry shape moving in front of him. For a split second Genos had a glimpse of a red shirt and khaki shorts, and then everything was obscured by bright orange light.
When vision returned, several seconds after his eyes opened, Genos found himself instead staring at a naked behind.
He made a noise something like “wtglph!” and the naked man turned to look down at him.
“You okay?”
The man was...
He was...
Bald, as well as naked, with a round face and dull eyes. But his body was sculpted like a statue's, every muscle defined, not a drop of fat on him. He turned back toward the monster, and Genos let his eyes drop to the man's ass, so tight you could bounce a quarter off it.
“Get out of here,” the man said. “Get to safety.”
“Kay,” Genos said, distantly. He didn't move except to raise his camera, thankfully intact on the strap around his neck.
He snapped shot after shot as the man walked toward the lizard, cracked his knuckles, and punched it in the nose. Genos didn't really know what he was expecting, but it wasn't for the monster to explode in a shower of blood and guts.
He was still shooting when the man looked back at him, and he took three full-frontal ones before he realized what he was doing.
“Hey,” the man said. “That's too much, come on. I know I've got nothing to be ashamed of, but...”
“Sorry!” Genos yelped, lowering the camera. “Y- you don't, though.”
“Yeah yeah.” His eyes were sharp now. Serious. He shook blood off his knuckles, and Genos had to bite his lip. “Delete those.”
“Um. I can't.”
The eyes got sharper. “What?”
“It's a film camera!” Genos said quickly. “But I won't print them, I promise. I do it myself, I have a darkroom, I- I won't-”
“You a photographer?” That intense expression faded. Genos couldn't decide if he was happy or disappointed. “Like, a real one?”
“Um, yes. Professionally.” Genos stood and dusted off his knees, trying to pretend he wasn't having this conversation with a gorgeous naked man. “I mostly take pictures of heroes.”
“Huh. Really? That's a thing?”
“Yes, Hero-sama.”
The man winced. “Sama? That's not- My name is Saitama.”
“I'm Genos, Saitama-sama! Wakahisa Genos.”
“Seriously don't call me sama.” He turned and started to walk off down the empty street, and Genos found himself following.
“Please, Saitama-sama, what's your hero name? If I know that, it's easier when I sell the pictures.”
A finger was jabbed in Genos' face, still smeared with blood. “You are not selling naked pictures of me.”
Genos felt his face heat up. “I'll censor them! The nudity won't make it past the negatives.”
“No.”
“I'll crop it above your, um, your... bottom.”
The corner of Saitama's mouth drew up. “'Bottom?' Are you five?”
Genos' face was on fire now. “Not that you have anything to be ashamed of.”
“Answer's still no.”
“B- but Saitama-sama, you defeated that monster in a single punch!”
Something undecipherable crossed his face. “I know.”
“And I got amazing shots of it! Don't you want people to see that?”
“Not naked.”
Genos bit his lip. “Well, do you fight monsters often?”
“Eh, I guess.”
“Then can I come with you next time?”
Saitama shot him an odd look. “Huh?”
“To take pictures! I can be better prepared if I know what I'll be seeing. Bring more lenses, find the right exposure to compliment your complexion.”
“Huh?”
“Please, Saitama-sama?” Genos gripped his camera like a shield.
“Well, uh...” He rubbed his head, a very slight squeaking sound coming from the smoothness of it. “I guess, I mean... My hero suit can stand up to more than regular clothes, so it should be okay.”
“Thank you!” Genos bowed deeply, only realizing too late that this brought him very close to Saitama's crotch. He jerked back upright so fast he got dizzy. “Um.”
“Whoa,” Saitama grabbed his arm to steady him. “You've been through a lot, you know? You should go rest.”
“I- I'm fine. It was just... I've never been directly targeted by an attack before.” He swallowed hard. “I guess I could have died. If you hadn't been there, Saitama-sama.”
“You gotta stop calling me that.”
“Then what's your hero name? I'll use that.”
“I don't have one. Didn't think I'd need it.”
“But you're in the Hero Association, aren't you? Did you just join? Did they not assign you one?”
Saitama blinked at him. “The what now?”
“The... Hero Association?”
“That's a thing?”
Genos stared at him for too long, before forcing a smile and saying, “Yes. Yes it is.”
“Oh. Hurm. Should I join it? I've kinda just been doing my own thing.”
“Y- you can't get recognition if you don't, Saitama-sama. There's protocols in place. Most of the news sites won't buy photos of unregistered heroes.” Genos took a breath. “The way I understand it, the Association was founded three years ago when a billionaire's grandson was saved from a monster attack by a good samaritan. Anyone who wants to be a hero can apply, most begin in C-Class and have to work their way up. There are thousands of registered heroes, but only a hundred or so who are really strong, so most heroes fight small monsters or criminals.”
Genos inhaled and swayed again, light-headed. Saitama's arm slipped across his back. “You talk a lot, you know?”
“Um. Yes.”
“Why don't you come back to my place?”
Genos' face was so hot it felt like it was on fire. “Okay,” he breathed.
“You can tell me more about the Hero Association. Rest and drink some water.”
“Ah... yes. Okay.”
Trying not to be too disappointed, Genos followed him down the street. His heart was pounding, his head was still spinning, and his ears were burning.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, was the knowledge that he would follow this man anywhere...