Author's Note:

This is just a funny fanfic idea I got and couldn't resist going through with it. Enjoy!

Also, I'm disclaiming the ownership and creation of the cover image used for this fanfic. No profit has been made from it; I just selected it from Google Images. All credit for it goes to the artist who drew it and posted it on the Internet (he/she seems to be of non-English origins so I regretfully cannot spell the artist's name here).

Ninja For Hire

He was examining an odd-shaped potato when his cell phone rang. He placed it back in the potato bin and answered his phone.

"Yes, Genos here."

"This is HQ. Genos, we need you to head over to City Y where there's a Demon-level threat currently on the rise. You are the only Class-S Hero we can get a hold of on short notice, as all the others are too busy with other threats going on. There are C- and B-Classes on the scene, but they're barely fighting it off."

"Understood, I'll head over there now."

"Thanks, Genos. We'll send you co-ordinates to the threat. We're counting on you. HQ out."

He closed his phone. This was the second time in the week he had been called to assist in Demon-level threat zones. There were previous threats of the same level during the past month, one after another, and they seemed to be on a rising trend only recently. Many C-, B-, and even A-Class Heroes have been sent into hospital with severe injuries, some critical. The shortage of able-bodied Heroes had forced all the top Class-S Heroes to be called into action, wherever they can reach; so far, they were handling the situation with relative ease, although the increase of threats indicated it would only get more difficult over time, especially being stretched out as they were. Not that that stopped the likes of Terrible Tornado or Bang.

Genos also did his part to fill in the space and help take care of the threats. There was no ignoring such a danger to innocent lives. Even if it meant sacrificing shopping errands for his sensei. Yet as important as hero work and protecting citizens was, he worried about letting his sensei down by not being able to do his normal tasks lately, like cleaning the apartment or taking out the trash. The low number of the usual Heroes in City Z made petty crimes and low-level threats more frequent in the city, which meant more work was cut out for both Genos and Saitama-sensei to put out the fires in and around their neighbourhood, in turn meaning less time for themselves. Saitama-sensei seemed to enjoy being busy and getting a bit more acknowledgement for his hero work, small as it was for him, shrugging off the lack of domestic chores being done in his laidback way.

But Genos wasn't satisfied with that excuse. How could he not do the simplest of things for the one who had done so much for him? Saitama-sensei deserved better, even if he didn't think so himself. Genos wanted to do all he could for his teacher, but it was getting harder and harder now.

He took one last regretful glance at the shopping basket in his hand, half-full of vegetables and other ingredients meant for dinner tonight, and left it on the floor. He would have to try again tomorrow, he thought, as he strode out of the supermarket.

Thunk. Another shuriken hit the dartboard where it joined the other dozen shuriken stars embedded across it; it was running out of room. Sonic reached into his pouch at his waist to take out another four-pointed star. He threw it with a flick of his wrist and it appeared next to the last star that was thrown. He smiled. His technique was flawless.

His smile was short-lived and he sighed heavily. Business as a freelance ninja was going slow these days. Not that he hadn't had slow days before, but this was the worst yet. It was like this as soon as he had returned from his training in the wild forest; it was as if all the high-end employers in the city had dropped like flies in his absence. They had either disappeared or couldn't afford to hire him, and the reason for both of these things soon became clear when he had tuned into the news on the radio: an outbreak of monsters had started terrorising cities one by one during the past month, doing extensive collateral damage in their wake, and it didn't seem to be ending any time soon.

Damn monsters are making me poor.

He at least kept his savings from his previous job guarding the richest man in the city, Mr. Zeniru, and his 'Golden Turd' home from Hammerhead and his Paradisers. (Sonic recalled that even the man's hair was shaped like a turd.) He was paid handsomely for his services and it kept him going for now, but at this rate it was going to run out much sooner than later if he didn't find any decent work. Sure, he could simply live off the land like he had done before, but if he was going to make a living in this city he needed paying jobs and somewhere close to live. He was the fastest ninja around, but that didn't mean he liked to waste precious energy zipping to and from the forest all the time.

Yet at the same time it was a bad time to look for work, what with the lack of it. If he couldn't find any with businessmen or important organisations, then where would he look? He pondered the answer and realised there was not much option but to look to the more common civilians needing his services in one way or another. That brought up another question: just what would they need his services for? If it was for protection, then they had the Hero Organisation for that, and he wasn't about to make anyone think he was associated with them. Assassination seemed extreme, unless some particular individuals were into that sort of thing. Besides, that service would be too expensive for the middle-class folk, which was why Sonic reserved it for higher-classed clients, such as Mr. Zeniru.

Clearly, he was too over-qualified for these people, or that his specialties didn't match their needs at all. It looked like he had hit a stump. But after some thinking, he had an idea. His skills may be too good for civilian needs, but perhaps he could make them work for whatever needs that existed, no matter how mundane or small, like errands or chores. It was below his usual standard of work, but at times like these he couldn't complain. Like a wolf that has suddenly run out of its usual prey, he must hunt for more plentiful, though smaller, meat if he was to survive here. To give up now would just be pathetic. Especially since he'd vowed to defeat a certain bald-headed man in this very city, the only person in the world who had ever beaten him in a fight.

There was no turning back.

Very well. I'll make a hundred flyers and spread them around town. Somebody ought to reply soon enough. After all, there's no one more skilled than me around here. Someone should be desperate for my services.

He began brainstorming on his flyer, confident in his success.