Cherry blossoms fell from their thin branches with the same Grace as mid Winter snow, soft in their lines and resolute in their paths, tiny flitters wracked them as their paper thin frames were bent by wind. A serine silence filled the midnight streets accompanying the soft, warm glow of street lights shifting restlessly in old puddles across the street. The rowdiness of the harsh day replaced by the nights cooler calm.

A small male leaned on the cyborg beside him, thinking nothing more of the action. A soft whisper of wind blew the snow like petals in their direction, allowing them to view the tiny paper thin blades as they raced by.

The cyborg looked at the male, his stance remaining stiffly formal.

"Sensei! We must go, it is past your normal sleeping time"

The male replied with a breathy laugh, leaning more of his weight onto the man beside him in an action that would have reminded him of a cat had he not seen the man's guarded shell. Saitama was quieter than usual, the man noted.

The plastic bags between them rustled at every step, marking each and every movement and shuffle. It was a shame, Saitama thought, that the cherry blossoms in this city were so uncared for. Nonetheless they had continued to be faithful to the role Saitama had unconsciously marked them as, a mark of a new year. Now that he thought about it, it had been two of these floral seasons since he had met genos.

Had it really been that long since genos infiltrated his bleak and colourless world?
he could barely remember what life was like before and what little he did consisted of many lonely drunk nights and that suffocating silence that had always surrounded him, he couldn't remember the amount of times that he had tried to get close to another and ended up being the cause of their harm. It was fitting that genos couldn't be so easily broken, so easily deterred.

Saitama guided them up stairs they had long since memorized, mindless in their ingrained actions.

He absentmindedly turned the lock, sometimes he tried to imagine life without genos, without that dependency that he knew was by no means healthy. He sat down on his futon and picked up his manga on auto pilot, flipping it over to a random page. He knew that he wouldn't have survived long, after all it was genos whom introduced him to the hero association, without him he would have starved and he would have done so alone, in that cold, bleak and hopeless world. Without a single soul bringing him the wiff of the challenge he so craved.

He barely registered the faint scratching of graphite on paper, no doubt scratching in photo realistic drawings that never failed to impress Saitama. He never did figure out what made him so interesting, though he never truly payed it any mind. It wasn't his business.

He continued to flip through pages, barely absorbing the story and allowing himself to lose his concentration to his admittedly useless thoughts. He always wondered why a guy like genos, whom could literally choose to be anyone's partner and be accepted with open arms, would choose the relatively simple guy that saitama was. Sure he had strength but he had literally nothing else to offer, he was the most normal person in the association, hell mumin was a hell of a lot more exciting than he was and to top that he was an emotional brick to boot.

He gave a brief glance to genos, catching his harsh, peircing gaze, for whatever reason he was chosen, he was grateful.

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this is literally the only story I have taken the time to edit.
Edit ×2 now. 2018 style,