Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice

(Disclaimer: This story is not for profit, and I do not own any rights to One Punch Man. The series and its characters belong to ONE.)

New-Bee

"So, 1000 push-ups, 900 sit-ups, 800 squats, 600 lunges, 500 jumping jacks... is that all, Sensei?"

"Sure, let's start with that," Saitama said distractedly as his eyes locked onto a vibrant '50%-off Sale!' sign in a passing window.

Genos pulled out his trusty notebook then and jotted down every detailed instruction. They were just returning from another training session, instigated by the cyborg himself, to which he'd once again been on the brink of having his entire system compacted into a floppy disk. Despite whatever progress he felt he'd been making recently, Saitama was always there as a constant reminder that he still had so much further to go. Often times, he found himself wondering if he'd made the right decision in convincing Dr. Kuseno to transform him into a cyborg. Had he never met Saitama, he wouldn't have been so quick to second-guess himself, but those limitations he felt now were awfully stifling.

Then there were other times, such as in that very moment as they neared the apartment, that Genos was wholly grateful for his cybernetic enhancements. From the obnoxious beeping ringing throughout his head, Genos knew something was awry before they'd even set foot in direct line of sight with the building. His entire body tensed up and his head cranked in a very specific direction like a dog who'd just spotted a squirrel.

"There is an intruder in the apartment," he announced urgently.

The man beside him rolled slowly to stop and glanced over lazily, as if he'd no less announced that the sky was blue. "What? Really?"

Genos, on the other hand, was reluctant to be so blasé about the prospect. With feet responding quickly to instinct, the cyborg bolted forward and disappeared around a corner, pulling up to the very building that was only making his integrated alarm system surge more viciously. No time was wasted between reaching the entrance and busting through the front door – cannon at the ready. With his arm stretched stiffly out in front of him, the cyborg swivelled around the small room, inspecting every little crevice and potential hiding spot – not like there were many, however.

He heard his sensei shuffle in behind him shortly afterwards, taking the time to remove his shoes by the doorway.

"I do not understand – my radar is detecting signals within extremely close proximity," Genos said with unyielding alarm as he made his way out onto the balcony to scan the surrounding area.

Then a sense of movement alerted him even more and he darted back inside.

"The target is moving!" he stressed, looking like a malfunctioning garden sprinkler as his arm jerked around in random directions.

"Easy, Genos, don't go firing off in my apartment," Saitama droned while strolling into the kitchen to start putting the groceries away, almost dismissing Genos' reaction as him just having another one of his moments.

Then a sudden knock at the door nearly made Genos fail that request. With his attention now set firmly on the entrance, Genos' outstretched arm lead him across the room as he rushed to swing it open, nearly ripping it off its hinges in the midst of foisting his threatening imposition upon the treacherous... girl?

"Why, hello neighbou – Oh."

Clearly Genos' intimidation tactic had been effective, as he watched the girl's startled eyes drop to the glowing circle shoved no less than an inch from her face.

"Who are you and what do you want with Saitama-sensei?" Genos demanded at once.

"Uh, Saito-what?" she seemed to ask more to herself than to him. But then she gave a light toss of her head and cheerfully said: "Whatever, I heard you come in just now so I thought I'd pop by and say hello. I'm Beatrice – your new neighbour!"

Genos' shocked expression had no impact on his stubbornly offensive stance. "Neighbour...?"

From the slight shift and widening of her eyes, Genos sensed that his sensei had pulled up behind him then, but he refused to openly acknowledge that fact.

"Oh! There are two of you! Do you live here together?"

Genos spared only one brief glance at the regarded man behind his shoulder. "Yes, this is Saitama-sensei and I's apartment," he confirmed warily, fixing his gaze even more intently on her than before.

"Well, actually – "

"Wonderful!" the girl beamed, cutting off whatever Saitama had started to mumble.

"Forgive me, but I am failing to understand why you are here," Genos admitted bluntly.

She was doing something with her hands, but Genos was too focused on her face to care. "Oh, well, I just moved in next door..."

His eyes narrowed even more. "Are you not aware that this area is strictly off limits?"

"Why are you here then?"

Her eyes, on the other hand, were big and shiny and staring up at him with a kind of density that he could only suspect was fabricated.

Nevertheless, he tensed up and took long enough to formulate an appropriate excuse, only for Saitama to butt in then and simply admit: "We're heroes."

The girl blinked and let her eyes rove over them then with a funny kind of reverence. "Heroes, huh?" Genos silently cursed his sensei's open honesty; not so easily bamboozled by such cheap tricks himself.

"Wow, this is so exciting!"

She seemed to be talking to herself again, in which time Genos' patience was wearing dangerously thin. "I think it is best if you leave," he said.

The girl tossed her hair again and frowned deeply at the cyborg's suggestion. "Leave? But I just got here..." Her glum eyes glanced in the direction of the apartment beside theirs. "And I have nowhere else I can go..."

"This is not our problem," Genos persisted.

"Well, I – "

"Nah, it's cool," Saitama said suddenly, and Genos felt himself being ushered gently back inside. "I mean, the dude has a point... this area is pretty dangerous. But it's none of our business why you're here – you're free to do whatever you want."

Genos could only stare in disbelief at the back of his sensei's round head. What was he thinking? Allowing a stranger to reside in such close proximity... Obviously he had full faith in his master's abilities and knew with confidence that no harm would ever come to him, but there were so many other complications that would inevitably arise under such circumstances.

Flicking his hardened expression back to the girl, he noticed she was smiling again. Definitely suspicious.

"Thanks. That's reassuring. You guys seem like cool neighbours!"

If she'd been expecting a response to that, neither Saitama or Genos delivered.

At least she wasn't completely inept in social cues as the air surrounded her went stale and she fumbled a little awkwardly. "Well, I won't keep you, Saitama and – sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

She was looking to him, but still he said nothing. It was Saitama who indicated: "That's Genos."

The girl nodded. What was her name again? Oh, wait, he didn't care.

"Saitama and Genos. Ok. Well, it was a pleasure meeting you both. I'm sure I'll see you around!"

And after a quick little wave she was finally gone.

Saitama promptly shut the door and turned to move past Genos without a word.

Genos, on the other hand, wasn't feeling so tight-lipped about the predicament. "Sensei."

"Just leave it, Genos," Saitama sighed on his way back into the kitchen.

Genos tailed him like a puppy pawing anxiously for his treat. "This situation is rather alarming, Sensei. My sensors... they will not be as effective. I will be unable to tell if a threat is ever approaching or if it is simply her."

"What's the big deal?" Saitama said with an aloof shrug of his shoulders as he started preparing a pot with water. "I was managing just fine on my own without your fancy sensitive-thingy." The gas stove clicked incessantly as it refused to spark, causing Saitama to frown. "Speaking of which, even though you're living here now for whatever reason, this is still my apartment Genos."

Genos couldn't argue with that. "Yes, sensei."

"And I really wish you'd stop calling me that," Saitama said once he'd finally gotten the stove to light.

"Of course, master. Shall I begin chopping the onions?"

Saitama sighed. "Sure."

Leave home – tick; find new apartment – tick; introduce yourself to the neighbours – tick; obtain furniture – ... well, that one was still a bit of a work in progress, Beatrice acknowledged, as she stared forlornly down at the barren wood flooring. Barren, aside from the rolled-up duvet she'd carried along with the suitcase of clothing and whatever else she'd deemed suitable enough to bring; not like she had any real idea of what was considered suitable.

It was a first of many for her. Having grown up in a sheltered, wealthy home, there wasn't much she knew about the real world. And that's ultimately what sealed the deal in embarking on this defiant journey; away from her parents, away from the people she called 'friends' but who were really just replaceable pawns in the whole hierarchy game. She'd just graduated high school with plans enforced by her parents to attend university, but after all the stories she'd read and seen posted on the internet, she knew there was so much more to life than the typical humdrum rat race. It wasn't her – it never had been; she'd always felt like a puppet being pulled by the strings by a ventriloquist – many ventriloquists, more precisely. And she wanted out.

Extensive private research led her to the Ghost Town in City Z, where she'd discovered rent-free accommodation (perfect for a high school graduate who had very little savings and couldn't rely on her parents for obvious reasons), and everything sort of fell into place after that. She'd left a semi-cryptic note behind for her folks, explaining her reasoning for slinking away into the night, while assuring them she'd be safe – even though she, herself, couldn't really attest to the validity behind that statement. Maybe it was her innocence, but she certainly felt safe in what she was doing. Nevertheless, she was in it for the experience, and if she somehow managed to hit a few bumps in the road along the way, it would only enhance whatever she hoped to gain from it all. At most, she expected to sit next to a stranger on the train, or cross paths with a few weary travellers, or have to actually assist someone.

She didn't expect the locksmith to bombard her with personal questions and ask her to fill out a form, complete with references, to which she had to splurge half her savings on just tipping the guy to do the job as discreetly as possible. She also hadn't expected to lug her belongings around all day, bumping into disgruntled people and testing the endurance of her muscles and patience until it was actually done – she wasn't exactly the lightest of packers. To top it off, once she finally gained access to her new apartment, she certainly hadn't expected the amount of insects already taking residence, or the peeling wallpaper, or the creaking floorboards, or all the god forsaken dust. She wasn't well-versed in any of this matter, and seriously contemplated hiring a cleaner or a handyman, but with only a limited amount of money left over she decided to just bite her tongue and handle it like a big girl.

So, after plopping her things down and being greeted with an atomic cloud of dust that propelled her into a coughing fit comparable to that of a heavy smoker, Beatrice swiftly left the apartment and headed to the nearest convenience store. She remembered passing one on the way there, but for the life of her couldn't remember how to find it again. So, after wandering around for the better part of the day, she eventually found what she was looking for and returned to complete the mission.

It was only as she was wiping a corner with the hundredth sheet of paper towel that she heard some commotion outside the front door. Neighbours, she thought excitedly, immediately dropping whatever tedious thing she was doing to go investigate. She couldn't hear anything but suppressed muffles – maybe whoever it was was on the phone? Either way, as soon as she heard the door slam shut, her own door subsequently opened. A few tucks of her hair and smoothing of her dress later, and she was knocking at the door only a step away.

Everything that happened afterwards was all that she expected and more. From the moment that door opened to the moment it slammed shut in her face, tingles shot up her spine in excitement. BOYS. And not just any boys – HEROES. And one of them was even a cyborg! How cool! Granted, they were probably gay, but that only added to the whole exciting experience. She was hitting so many birds with one stone, she couldn't believe her luck as she practically floated back into her apartment. What a funny feeling that was, that she now had a place to call her apartment; in all its filthy, craggy glory.

Her productivity all but doubled since returning to said neglected apartment.

Then, after a while, Beatrice's stomach let out a little rumble. Rising to her feet, she propped her hands on her hips and sighed proudly as she rotated around the room to assess the fruits of her labour. It may not have been up to her normal standards, but it was liveable at the very least, and there would be plenty more time for improvement. Satisfied enough, it was time for some tea. Waltzing over to the quaint kitchen, she immediately put the kettle on while her nails went to work on a pack of biscuits. It was only as she finished pouring the steaming water into the lone cup, however, that she realized the problem – she had the milk, she had the biscuits... but somehow she'd forgotten the sugar.

Deflating initially out of disappointment, it was quickly slapped away with a fierce 'this is part of the experience!' look. Haphazardly dropping the pack of biscuits back down onto the countertop, Beatrice hurried with abnormal vigor out of her apartment and over to the one only a wall's width away.

Taking another deep breath in front of that door for the second time that day, she knocked.

It was the same cyborg as before, only now he was donning a pink apron – probably a role-play prop, she assumed.

"Hi, neighbour! I was just wondering if you might be able to lend me some sugar?"

A/N: Someone please stop me from drinking, because then I just end up going and starting random stories like these and shamelessly posting them when I have a million other things I should be doing. Anyway, this is just a bit of a throw-away really, definitely super light-hearted and not meant to be taken seriously. Just writing for fun, as Saitama would put it.