Spoiler Warning: For Manga-only readers and/or Anime-only watchers, there are some minor spoilers based on the Webcomic. Please read at your discretion.

17

The One with the Promise

"Whoa, that snowman monster looked so funny, papa!"

"Really? Why'd you think so?"

"Because it was a baldy—like you!"

"…Want me to drop you?"

Tatsumaki slowly opened her eyes upon hearing the muffled sound of laughter and lively conversation. As her vision came into focus, it dawned on her that she was no longer in the hospital—rather, she was outside, standing in the middle of a magical field bedaubed with beautiful, powdery snow. In place of her sweat-drenched hospital gown was a white robe that acutely resembled the black suit she typically wore.

What is this? Am I dead, or am I just dreaming? she wondered to herself, blinking multiple times. The voices grew fainter, and she stopped her pondering, eventually deciding to search for the two silhouettes and follow them.

Flying across the misty distance, she caught a clearer glimpse of the individuals: one was an unfamiliar child who looked no older than six or seven, with dark chocolate brown hair peeking from his knitted bonnet, pale porcelain skin with rosy cheeks, and a set of striking jade eyes; the other was a blasé bald man garbed in his thin yellow hero suit adorned with matching red gloves and boots, and a long white cape that blew along with the ice-cold breeze.

Almost instantly, realization cascaded over her like a sneaker wave, and she landed herself on the ground, the snow reaching up to her knees. "Baldy?" she called out, yet the man carried on, trudging along the mushy path with the child sitting comfortably on his shoulders. "SAITAMAAA," she yelled out again. Tatsumaki narrowed her gaze, emerald eyes flaring up. "Bastard, stop ignoring me!" she seethed, but when Saitama didn't even stop to glance at her, her shoulders slumped. "Couldn't they hear or see me? Am I…a ghost?! Wait—didn't that kid just call Baldy his…papa?" With a silent huff, she continued to follow them towards a destination she didn't even know, considering that she might find some answers.

"Papa, aren't you scared? Big bad monsters keep coming from everywhere," the child asked, rubbing his fuzzy gloves on the surface of Saitama's smooth head.

"Not really…monsters are just monsters. Big or small, scary or ugly—they're pretty much the same," Saitama nonchalantly answered.

"You're so brave, papa. You're not afraid of anything!"

"Well, I got a little scared a while ago when you run off without telling me," Saitama said. "Don't ever do that again, Mob. Geez, you'll give me a heart attack—and if that doesn't kill me, your mother will."

Little Mob laughed. "You're scared of mama too!" he beamed. Saitama chuckled along with him, and after a pause, Mob resumed the conversation. "If you ask me, papa, I'm not scared of the monsters at all. You and mama always look after me, you said you'll protect me forever and ever! That's why I'm not scared of anything!"

"That's right, little dude. We protect those we really care about."

"Then I'll protect you and mama, papa! I'll become super strong like you so I can find those ugly-ass monsters!"

"Ugly—what?! Hey, don't say that word."

"But you and mama use it all the time!" Mob argued.

"Mob, that's a bad word. Just say 'butt' instead, okay?" Saitama explained, lifting a pointed finger for emphasis.

"Okay. Butt. BUTT. Ugly-butt…ugly-butt…ugly-BUTT!"

Saitama and little Mob shared a hearty laugh. More snow started to fall from the sky as a herd of clouds drifted over the sun, shadowing the warmth and light it provided. Mob's stomach grumbled softly, and Saitama felt the vibrations on the back of his neck like a massage chair.

"Papa, let's go back to the cabin. I'm hungry and mama's waiting for us," Mob finally said, gently patting Saitama's head this time.

"Sure, dude. Whaddya want for lunch?"

"Hm…I like your hotpot. It's really warm and yummy. It's like the food is hugging my tummy!"

Saitama chuckled then tilted his head to look at his son. "You wanna know a little secret, Mob?" he asked.

"What?"

"Hotpot's my favorite too."

Tatsumaki let out a deep sigh, feeling her heart sink to her stomach. Was this scene before merely a latent manifestation of her heart's deepest wish? Was her mind blatantly playing games with her? She intended to follow them back to the cabin, but her muscles wouldn't cooperate and she remained static in place.

Just then, Saitama paused. He turned around and drifted his gaze across the snow-covered hills and the icy pillars that were the behemoth mountain range. Mob, noticing the subtle shift in his father's stance, bent forward and looked his dad in the eye.

"Is there something wrong, papa?" Mob asked.

For a second, Saitama stopped looking around and blankly stared at the direction where Tatsumaki was standing. Startled, the Esper returned his gaze with a scrunched face, then pointing towards herself, she asked, "Can you…can you see me, Baldy?"

Saitama just stood there, no words coming out from his mouth. They remained that way until little Mob pulled on Saitama's ears, jolting him out from his airy daze.

"Papa!" Mob called out again, squirming a bit.

"Ow, ow! Huh? What? Oh, it's nothing. Thought I saw a mythical creature," Saitama said.

"Myph…mysphical…mysphical creature? Like a unicorn? You saw a unicorn?" Mob asked excitedly despite struggling to pronounce the word.

Saitama shook his head. "Nope, not a unicorn—it was the legendary midget ghost."

The SUV drifted sharply to the left, leaving skid marks on the damp asphalt as Saitama caught sight of the towering edifice for a second time. The hospital's ivory walls were fractured and slowly falling apart, and the several glass windows adorning it were all broken. It was a stark contrast from its glittering form mere hours earlier. This view they could glimpse from the car did not resemble some safe haven where expectant mothers would go to deliver their children, which conveyed an air of fretfulness around them.

As the electronic doors slid open to reveal the dark and emptied hall that was the main lobby, the first thing Saitama saw was Dr. Kurt Cooper sitting on one of the benches, trying to open a blue Gatorade with an unlit cigarette tucked between his teeth.

Saitama, Genos, and the rest of the heroes walked towards him, discerning the dark circles under his eyes. "Hey, Doc Kurt, how is she?" Saitama asked, a bit surprised to see that he was still here.

"Oh, you're back, Mr. Humpty. Did you take care of that monster?" Dr. Kurt wearily turned to him, finally getting the darn bottle opened.

"Um, yeah…but I got there pretty late. Other heroes were already on the scene," Saitama answered, ignoring the nickname.

"Really now? I see…" He took a generous gulp of the juice, then wiped his lips with his worn-out lab coat sleeve. "Well I've just about finished my break. Follow me to the labor room." Dr. Kurt sluggishly led the group along the quiet corridors that stretched out like the interiors of a train from the eighteenth century. "I'll tell you the same thing I told her sister: Tatsumaki's not doing so well, and the worst could happen at any moment. This is uncommon for women during childbirth, but it happens…and, unfortunate as it seems, even to heroes," he disclosed. "For the average woman, she would have died the second the baby has been delivered—our dear Tatsumaki, however, had the stamina to spare and is still getting through." He turned his head and glanced at Saitama. "You've got a fighter right there, Mr. Humpty."

Soon enough, everyone found themselves passing through the familiar area with the vending machine where they had waited and stopped in front of the door to the labor room. Saitama peered through the small glass window, catching a glimpse of Fubuki sitting next to Tatsumaki resting on the bed, her hand holding on to her sister's.

Dr. Kurt let out an exhausted sigh. "I've been on duty for twenty-two hours straight, and maybe I should get some sleep—I am getting pretty dizzy, after all," he said with a faint chuckle. "I'll be in my office if you need me. I also have my beeper with me, so if something comes up, I'll know."

"Thanks, man, really appreciate it," Saitama said, veering to him before he could take his leave. Dr. Kurt responded with a swift nod, and after he had disappeared from his line of vision, the bald hero turned to his companions. "You guys should go home and get some rest too. Thanks for coming anyway."

Immediately, King shook his head. "Not a chance, man. We're not leaving you and Tatsumaki. We're waiting for you out here," he declared. I really wanna see the baby too.

"Mr. King is right, Saitama," Mumen Rider added his pennyworth. "We came here to support you both, and we're staying until everything is all right."

Bang stepped forward and placed an encouraging hand on the young man's shoulder. "You've done so much as a hero, my boy. This world is indebted to you, and the least we could do on behalf of all those you have saved is to stay by your side," he said. He turned his head towards the window, glimpsed at the women behind the door, then let out a lugubrious sigh. "Even if the worst may happen, know that she has left you with a valuable treasure of a new life—and a new perspective of things. It would bring Tatsumaki peace of mind if you were to tell her truth."

"What truth?" Saitama asked.

"The truth of how much you care about her," Mumen Rider interjected. Saitama raised a brow, and the charming cyclist gave him a small smile. "Sometimes, you wear your heart on your sleeve, my friend."

King, Bang, and Bomb nodded in agreement, and Genos beckoned to the door. "Master, I believe Fubuki knows we're here. You should go in to see Tornado now."

"Okay," Saitama muttered, twisting the doorknob and letting himself in. The second he entered the room, Genos felt his person violently thrust forward, his left cheek smashing against the small glass window as the rest of the heroes huddled over the door like old aunts sneaking around for some gossip, each coveting to catch a glimpse of the scene that would unfold before them.

…

"Saitama, you're back," Fubuki exclaimed, standing swiftly from her seat as if the president of the nation himself has crossed the room. "Your clothes…what happened?"

"Oh, these? I could get them fixed tomorrow. Bastard tried to eat me," Saitama replied, briefly studying the exhausted woman in the pink halter-top dress. Fubuki was pale, and her eyes were red and puffy, evidently from having cried recently. A thought crossed his mind on the reason why she could have wept so much, and it caused his mouth to suddenly go dry. "Fubuki, how…how's Tatsumaki?" he asked softly.

Fubuki pursed her lips, then, shaking her head, averted her gaze. She brought her knuckles under her nose as she tried to stifle herself from crying again. Saitama gave her a sympathetic gaze as he rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. Fubuki looked at him, noticing how his sincere countenance had returned. Nodding her head, she understood what he meant to tell her with that one simple, unspoken gesture.

When Saitama brought his hand down and let it dangle idly on his side, Fubuki took a step back, granting the man some space as he moved forward and sat on the hospital bed next to the sleeping woman. This close, he noticed how her meticulous curls had stuck to her forehead and to her temples. Her eyebrows knitted tightly, and her chest slowly lifted in the rhythm of her breaths. The unforgettable fragrance of lavenders lightly whiffed at his senses, and his memories from the past months suddenly flashed across his mind.

The party at the nightclub…

The first visit to the doctor…

The comforting exchange under the rain…

The time they rescued a mother and her daughter from thugs…

The awkward first date…

The picnic after fighting the vegetable monsters…

…and the moment Mob was finally born.

Without thinking, Saitama leaned in and, raising his hand, ever so lightly tapped on her nose. It was a quaint gesture, one of the more playful things he has intentionally done to her, and albeit he wasn't sure whether it had pissed her off or not, he regarded it somehow as a poignant milestone in both their lives.

Suddenly, Tatsumaki's eyes softly blinked open, startling Saitama and making him stumble off the bed. Fubuki, shocked at Saitama's clumsiness, let out a high-pitched scream, causing the gossipmongers from the other side of the door to come rushing in and running across the room like the SWAT team on a drug raid.

His peaceful sleep disrupted, baby Mob let out a cry and was immediately attended to by Fubuki—a.k.a., the best aunt in the world. Tatsumaki pushed herself up, instantly met with the chaotic sight of Saitama sitting awkwardly on the floor next to her bed, Fubuki cradling and shushing a startled baby, and a group of random people standing in front of her as if they were going to perform a dance number. She scrunched her face and rubbed her throbbing temple. "Can someone explain what the fuck is going on?"

There was a distinct pause—with Mob crying in the background—then, following a second, a collective scream of relieved and gleeful cheers surrounded the room.

"M-Miss Tatsumaki, you're all right!" beamed Lily.

"I knew it—I just knew it! I told you she'd be fine," Mumen Rider declared, grinning widely.

"Tatsumaki, you had us pretty worried for a second," King said. "Don't pull off a stunt like that or any dying crap on us next time."

Bang approached the end of her bed, hands folded behind his arched back. "Tatsumaki, you don't know how pleased we are to see you well and alive. Congratulations. You have done well, child," he praised.

Saitama got off his ass and, straightening himself up, looked at Tatsumaki and gave her the biggest smile he could muster, his heart glowing inside him. "Tatsu…Tatsumaki? Tats…TATS! I can't believe it—you're okay!" he exclaimed.

Without thinking, Saitama threw himself towards Tatsumaki and pulled her in a tight bear hug. A pleasant silence fell as everyone's necks craned towards the couple. Fubuki turned to Genos with a cordial smile, and the blonde cyborg curiously looked at the baby she carried in her arms. King, Bang, and Bomb exchanged proud and heartfelt glances. Mumen Rider couldn't stop smiling, and Lily brought out her camera phone, making sure she captured every second of this rare moment.

Tatsumaki, stunned from his gesture, blinked widely and found herself at a loss of words. Everyone else had their eyes locked at them, but she didn't give a single damn about it. Raising her arms, she returned Saitama's embrace, closing her eyes and resting her cheek on his shoulder.

"…And my work here is done. Those two deserve each other," King remarked out of nowhere in his signature colorless tone. "Now then, where's the baby?"

Just like that, the oddball group of heroes crowded over Fubuki, each attempting a turn to catch a glimpse and even carry baby Mob despite the aunt's adamant disapproval, arguing that they all came from outside and needed to get disinfected—that is, baptized in alcohol—before touching her sweet and precious nephew.

From their ends, Saitama and Tatsumaki quietly watched as the lot before them showered their son with kind words of endearment and affection, gratified to know that Mob would be surrounded by people who would genuinely care about him. They exchanged weary yet happy gazes, taking in the present moment and committing it to their memories.

…

"…Then I brought her back to her apartment where she flung a guard against the wall," Saitama narrated to Mob in a whisper as he lovingly cradled the sleeping baby in his arms.

Tatsumaki snored softly, dead tired from everything that has happened that entire evening. One may not believe that it was only hours earlier when she had delivered a healthy baby boy amidst a tremendous earthquake, overcoming death and telling it, "not today."

Although he was just as exhausted as she was, Saitama combatted his own drowsiness since he wanted to spend time with his infant son and put him to sleep. With careful fingers, he tucked the edge of blanket on Mob's collar and smiled gently. Was it possible for someone to love another this much?

It was past four in the morning, and the guests from earlier had left about thirty minutes ago. Even the peculiar yet kind-hearted Dr. Kurt had eventually gone home to rest. Fortunately for the couple, they were given a private room within the hospital—one that wasn't as unsavorily damaged as the others—where Tatsumaki could be granted a wholesome rest for the meantime.

"…And then I remember that she said: 'just do it already,' and it was very confusing to papa, so I just listened to the most literal translation of that—and I just did it already," Saitama continued. "What would you do?"

As if he was listening, baby Mob cooed, and his chubby little fingers twitched. Saitama stole a glimpse of Tatsumaki and chuckled to himself. "Hey, don't tell your mama, but it was the smartest thing I did—listening to her—because now, you're here. Y'know, before you came, papa was just a jobless guy who wanted to be a hero for fun, but when he met mama and had you, papa isn't just a jobless loser anymore—I'm the best kind of hero there is—your dad. Isn't that nice? I really think it is."

Two weeks later

Tatsumaki awoke to a shaft of sunlight on her face. What time is it? She looked at the clock on the side table and noticed it was half-past eight. She stretched into a yawn, crawled out of bed, and headed to the bathroom to splash some water in her face. When she padded into the living room, she saw her sister dressed in an orange apron making outlandish faces at the curious baby she held in her arms. Fubuki stuck out her tongue and crossed her eyes, trying to get any reaction from Mob, who silently watched. When she noticed Tatsumaki passing by, she broke into a beaming smile. "Hey, big sis, did you sleep well? There's breakfast waiting for you," she said, her eyes never leaving the curious newborn.

Tatsumaki scratched her bedhead and groggily made her way towards the dining area. There she found a rather modest spread laid out for her on the round glass table: a pitcher of brewed coffee accompanied by poached eggs and a slice of thick-cut bacon on a warming plate, French toast, and sliced mango with Greek yogurt. Fubuki came into the dining room and said, "I didn't know what you wanted, so I added a few more options. Go and eat. I've just fed Mob his milk."

Tatsumaki took her seat and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Did you take from the bottles I prepared last night?"

"Of course," Fubuki answered. "You'd kill me if I give him anything else. Besides, breast milk is the best for babies, and my nephew only gets the best of the best." She watched her sister sluggishly down the cup of joe as if she was intentionally taking her time with it. In fairness, it's been months since she has last encountered the heavenly taste of the roasted beans treated into a caffeinated drink. Dancing in a sway a bit more, Mob was finally asleep in her arms, and she decided to take the seat across her sister and accompany her as she finishes her breakfast.

Time had gone on by its quiet ways, and during those past days, the several cities that were significantly desecrated despite the celestial monster's preempted invasion slowly started to reform and recover. As for Tatsumaki, she had dedicated most of her time attending to her newborn son, adjusting herself to feeding, sleeping, and diaper schedules—it may not seem like Mob is doing much of anything else these days—while recuperating in her own time. The Hero Association had given her a month of maternal leave while heavily implying that she would not be paid, and although Tatsumaki cared little about the money, the vaguely explained limitation—and for her, it was sheer ineptitude—made her question the system.

"Are you okay, big sis?" Fubuki asked, her eyebrow slightly arched. "You're just staring at the toast. Isn't it good?"

"Huh? Oh, no, it's not the food," Tatsumaki quickly replied. "I was…I was just thinking…about work and the Hero Association." Baby Mob made a soft shuffling sound, and Tatsumaki motioned that she brings him to his crib in the bedroom. Her sister did just that, and after she had returned shortly, Tatsumaki resumed their conversation. "Fubuki, there's something I've been thinking about for a while, and I've wanted to tell you this since I gave birth," she began, pressing an enclosed fist to her cheek and glancing up from her teacup.

"What is it?" Fubuki asked, seeing the look of Tatsumaki's face.

"I was thinking of resigning from the Hero Association. I just thought that maybe I just needed a new outlook in life, you know? I mean, I still want to be a hero, but these past months somehow made me realize there's still a lot that I need to learn."

"Leave the association?" Fubuki said in shock. Leaning in closer, she asked, "Have you told anyone else? Saitama?"

"I haven't told anyone—you're the first to know. Although, I was planning on telling him too," Tatsumaki replied.

"I see. But why now? You still have so much more ahead of you. Why leave now?"

"I told you already, Fubuki—there's still a lot about being a hero that I've yet to learn. It's not about becoming more powerful or defeating the strongest of monsters. Do you remember…that day I decided to become a hero because of him? Because he rescued me? At first, I thought that I was doing well as a hero, saving others from monsters and showing the world how strong I really am. I thought I did exactly what he did. But when I became the second-ranked S-Class, I didn't give a shit about the people I saved. For me, it was all about overwhelming power and striking fear into everyone—monster or human."

Tatsumaki numbly sipped on her coffee, finishing it until only specks of grounded beans were what remained. "Then this happened, and somehow—somewhere—during the past months, I felt that it wasn't just about me." She recalled the afternoon where she and Saitama had saved the woman and her child, vividly picturing them walking along the golden coast under late-afternoon haze and Baldy imparting to her his impression of what it means to be a true hero. "Being a hero is not about oneself. It's about compassion, like helping people untangle the troubles they've knotted themselves into. If I stay in the Hero Association and continue to give myself into their jurisdiction, I would never learn that."

Fubuki nodded wordlessly, pride and joy blistering in her heart with how her sister had changed during these nine months. While Tatsumaki was still Tatsumaki—with her short-temper, her unimpressed attitude, and her intriguing arsenal of insults—any profound dispositions of distrust, hate, and arrogance within her were adjourned. Fubuki had to admit that throughout this journey, even she had learned some valuable life lessons. "That's great to hear, big sis. I agree with you too—you wouldn't grow that way as long as the upper ranks in the association remained that way. You and Mob deserve better. Perhaps I should retire with you too," Fubuki said.

Tatsumaki shook her head. "Don't make a hasty decision just because of me, Fubuki. Plus, what about your little bunch of back-up dancers? Who's going to look after those dillweeds?" she asked, crossing her arms. "You've got the talent of a real leader, Fubuki. Maybe you should, oh I don't know, use it to reshape the shit disaster that is the Hero Association?"

"Well, uh, thanks. Will look into that," Fubuki chuckled. A tranquil silence fell, and the younger Esper glanced at the morning details surrounding them and let out a sigh. "So, you'll be going around like some unemployed hero just for the fun for it?"

"If I get bored and you put it that way—then, yes," Tatsumaki answered, chewing her toast.

Just then, an idea popped into Fubuki's cranium and she sent her sister a wide grin. "I know, why don't you join the Neo Heroes? You know, that other organization where Metal Bat and Child Emperor transferred to? I heard that they cater to the heroes much better than the Hero Association does."

"I don't know, Fubuki…"

"Think about it, sis! You'll still be doing hero work without compromising having to be affiliated with a corrupt corporation. Plus, there are still bills to pay and loads of baby things to buy. Vaccinations and designer strollers aren't cheap, you know."

Tatsumaki groaned. "I said I'll think about it. Don't fucking rush me. Geez." Fubuki could only chortle at her older sister's reaction.

As the two Espers continued to sit under the pleasant ray of sunshine that seeped through the half-closed blinds, Tatsumaki's mind drifted to the snow dream she had that night at the hospital, eventually finding herself picturing the smiles of the two characters in it. Ever since she'd given birth, Saitama had visited her and Mob daily—running errands, cooking for her, and helping around the apartment. She's never asked him to, and he never offered. It somehow just happened.

Somewhere in her secret heart, Tatsumaki wished for how that could be their everyday. She has never grown so attached to a person this way before, and it made her feel as if they were a real family—a feeling she had long craved for, given her painful past. Perhaps if she were to tell Saitama what she truly felt for him, her little wish might just be granted.

Saitama let out a tired yawn as he entered into his apartment, tossing the cardboard box filled with sealed letters on top of the low wooden table. He'll read some of those later, first things first, he needed to fill his stomach with a hearty breakfast. Preparing himself a bowl of corned flakes complemented with a glass of orange juice, he sat against the table and turned on the television. There was a replay of that documentary about how cheese is made, and he decided to settle with that.

Since defeating the infamous Aezeroth two weeks ago, the press and paparazzi followed him around like his own shadow, flooding the H.A. residential gates, and entrapping him at any chance they get when he would leave for the grocery store. He constantly had been receiving calls from networks and agencies requesting interviews and appearances. Within days of his triumph, his voicemail had already reached maximum capacity.

Fifteen minutes passed, and his attention diverted to the set of envelopes sedentary on the table's far end. Saitama picked up one, tore it open, and skimmed through the message. "What the hell—another request for an interview?" he muttered disinterestedly before crumpling the letter into a ball and hurling it towards the bin. As he sipped on his orange juice, he opened up another letter revealing a follow-up request to his emails relative to another interview moderated by some celebrity host. His eyebrows twitched, and he did the exact same with the one before it as if it was routine.

After reading about eighteen letters with the same message of requested interviews—only varying in location, formality, or whoever the hell would be hosting—Saitama finally came across one letter that didn't seem like some desperate attempt to get him to talk about his life in public. He took the white envelope, tore the side open, and studied the parchment for a bit. The paper seemed like the ordinarily crisp, egg-shell white Oslo, but the penmanship was an exquisite print written with some upmarket ink that only collectors could eloquently describe. Sure enough, one need not be an Avant-Garde to promptly discern from the letter's appearance per se that the individual who had sent it must be someone of elite status or prosperous background.

Letting out a huff, Saitama read with his eyes:

To Caped Baldy,

I have not written many letters, and I do not regard myself as fond of such, but reaching out to you privately has been a challenge, and I considered this means to be the most effective. Though I aim to be as direct as possible, I fear that you may overlook the earnestness in my words. Saying this, I do hope you take my message with the utmost solemnity.

First, I would like to thank you for saving my son, Blue. You may not have recognized him, but he is currently the top hero of the organization titled: Neo Heroes. As a hero myself, I commend you for the bravery and justice you had carried out so courteously. But as a father, I feel an unsettling sense of conflict within myself—one of overwhelming joy that my son is alive, and the other of immense conviction that I was not there for him.

It may not be much, but I would like to meet you this Saturday afternoon at 2:00pm and buy you a drink at the Rooftop Bar. There some other things I would like to discuss with you, and I can assure you that it would be worth your time.

I hope for your favorable response, and that you would agree to my simple request.

Yours truly,

Blast

Saitama narrowed his eyebrows, reading the signature at the end of the letter one more time. Blast. Blast…that name definitely rings a bell somehow. Wasn't that man also a professional hero from the association? Damn it, if only he had paid more attention when reading the newsletters then—!

Oh, right—the Hero Association newsletter! Saitama dashed to his cupboard, pulled out a random issue, and skimmed through somewhere in the latter pages. Usually, they had the list of heroes somewhere around the appendix…

There it was: Blast. Rank: One, S-Class. Status: Inactive.

Saitama arched a brow. Now, what exactly did the top-ranked hero of the entire association want to do with him? Sure, he said he'd buy him a drink to thank him for saving his son, but the letter did mention something about a discussion that would be "worth his time." Glancing to the television, the show nothing but a blur to him now, he reached for the remote and turned off the screen. Bringing a spoonful of the crispy cereal drenched in milk into his mouth and chewing slowly, he thought what the top hero would want to discuss with him that he hasn't yet expressed in the letter.

After finishing the last spoonful of his breakfast, Saitama glimpsed at the clock and stood from the table. He still has about four hours to prepare.

…

Saitama couldn't remember the last time he felt so ridiculous. Slicked in sweat, his neck was covered with layers of coats, one with a particularly high collar that concealed his face, and his recognizable head was tucked in a taupe fedora. Over the pair of dark shades he had on despite the cloudy afternoon, he ignored the odd looks he received from the people he passed. The hotel where the Rooftop Bar tenanted was just on the horizon, and Saitama kicked up his pace.

As expected, the Rooftop Bar was one of those exquisite dimly-lit hotel bars where socialites prefer to rendezvous for some late noon cocktails or tea while divulging their deepest darkest secrets, and where corrupt politicians carried out transactions under the table. Regardless of the rumors, Caped Baldy couldn't give a single damn about the place other than the drinks' ludicrous price tags.

Saitama walked deeper into the bar and was immediately welcomed by a lady dressed in business formal who offered to take his heavy coat and hat. Saitama scrutinized the usherette and questioned if she was planning to steal his stuff or snitch on him. The confused young woman, scrunching her eyebrows while forcing a smile, politely answered that she was only trying to make him feel more comfortable. It took another awkward minute for Saitama to fully comprehend what was going on before he finally agreed to be escorted to his seat.

As they approached the table, Saitama noticed the man reading the newspaper, a glass of old-fashioned on the rocks settled on the glass-iron garden table in front of him. "Here's your seat, sir. Could I get you anything?" the usherette asked.

"Uh…maybe just some water first? I'll check out the menu later," Saitama replied. Her forced smile still affixed on her face, the lady turned on her heel and left.

"You like bourbon?"

Saitama tore his glance away from the menu when he heard the smooth, low voice of the man across him. Blast folded the newspaper and set it aside on the empty seat next to him. This close, Saitama studied the retired hero for a bit. There was no image of him anywhere in the association newsletter nor their records, the only portrayals he had imagined came from King and Fubuki's vague descriptions. Despite the graying hair that matched his scruffy beard, Blast was roguishly handsome with a deep set of dark brown eyes behind his wire-framed spectacles (was he trying to go incognito too?). He was voguishly dressed in a navy-blue oxford shirt and sleek dark gray slacks, appearing a blunt contrast from the more modest Caped Baldy, who had on plain cotton sweater and sneakers.

"I'm sorry, I was just offering a suggestion," Blast resumed, attempting to spark amicable conversation.

"I…uh, no, it's fine. I'll have the bourbon. I've never tried it before," Saitama replied honestly. "Yeah, so, I'm here now. Whaddya need from me?"

"Point-blank. You're not what I had expected," Blast remarked with a brief chuckle.

Saitama raised a brow at the man's odd answer. "Huh? What do you mean? Dude, I hope you don't mind, but I just really want to know why you asked for me."

Just then, a waiter arrives with Saitama's glass of water. He gently placed it on the table and asked if any of them would want something else. Blast gestures to Saitama, who ordered a glass of bourbon, and resumed their conversation after the waiter left.

"I understand, and I don't want to waste any more of your time." He took a swig of his own bourbon, leaned in closer, and folded his fingers. "I wanted to thank you in person again for saving my son, Blue. He and I have grown distant lately, and I've merely convinced myself that there are times in the lives of children when they'd wish to become more independent as they grow older. It's…my way of coping."

Saitama played with the straw that was nestled in his fancy glass of water. "I don't get it, man. Why hadn't you just gone in and defeated that monster? Aren't you like the top hero or something? It was all over the news—I'm sure you would've known where it was."

"All good and valid queries," Blast pointed out. "I'm not going to discuss why I've retired and remained inactive as a hero, although I will answer some of your questions. Foremost, I already knew who the monster was referring to—it wasn't Blue, as my son assumed he was—and after the second I heard of Tatsumaki's pregnancy, my speculation was just further confirmed. Second, if I do fight the monster, my relationship with Blue would only become more strained. I could not fully understand him myself, but it would seem that Blue has some issues with his pride—an unfortunate flaw that he might have taken from me." Blast chuckled, then after a sip of his drink, resumed his serious façade. "That night, I had to make a choice—and I chose my son."

He tilted his head and glanced at Saitama, who had an explicit confused expression on his face. Saitama parted his lips and was about to ask a question until Blast carried on to elaborate. "I know what you're thinking. Yes, I knew you were the father of Tatsumaki's child. Actually, the reason why I called you here was to talk about her." He paused, then turned his gaze to his emptying glass. "Years ago, I had rescued a little girl from a military camp where hired scientists from a clandestine organization experimented on her. She was about six or seven, and she possessed incredible psychic abilities that were out of this world—and what's more special about this Esper was her locus of control over her powers. Then one day, a ferocious monster escaped from its cage and, of course, everyone fled thinking about their own lives. Not a single soul remembered that there was a young human girl confined in one of those facilities. Maybe even if they did remember, they wouldn't have cared."

Saitama's drink arrived, but both seemed to be immersed in their profound conversation to even acknowledge the waiter. The air surrounding them shifted into a solemn silence, and the younger hero's countenance sharpened. "…Then what happened?" he asked.

"I arrived, killed the monster, and destroyed the bars that held the girl imprisoned. I thought she would stand and run away like the others—instead, she just stood there like a helpless animal, and then, she just turned around. When I had asked why she did not fight back, she merely told me that it was because she wasn't strong enough." Blast downed the few drops left in his drink and licked his lips. He averted his gaze towards the cloudy sky, taking in the misty breeze that smelled of rain. "I took Tatsumaki under my wing until she and her sister were adopted by some affluent family. Since then, I rarely saw her…I treated her as if she was my own daughter… Time sure flies. I can't believe she's a mother now—makes me feel old, like a grandpa." Blast turned his head to the younger hero, and his eyebrows knitted in an earnest gaze. "Saitama, let me tell you something…After seeing the way you treated Tatsumaki, after I have witnessed your genuine concern and regard for her, all I can say is…thank you. I wish Tatsumaki learns what your compassionate heart knows so well."

Saitama was a bit taken aback by Blast's words. He did not expect a stranger—let alone someone so respected and held in such high regard—to express his gratitude so solemnly. All Saitama could muster himself to do was a small nod. "…Uh, thanks, Blast. Really appreciate it too, man." A brief silence fell, and Saitama looked at the man and asked, "Hey, I hope it's not foul for me to ask…but why'd you leave the association so unexpectedly? Did your kid have something to do with it?"

Blast sighed and slowly closed his eyes. "After years of being on top of my game—of becoming the Hero Association's most celebrated hero—I suddenly found myself at a standstill. Nothing…nothing but the hollow shell of an old and withering man. For all the glory, all the fame, all the money, I had no family, no hopes, no dreams, no goals. That was my fear, actually. I was afraid that, despite all my achievements as a hero who defeated monsters and vanquished evil, I would end up all alone and live a shallow life. But then, as my loneliness had begun to creep into my head and consume me, I met a woman. To most, she was nothing special—just another ordinary secretary working at some unsung corporation—but to me, she was the ray of light that had led me outside of the tunnel I had wandered into. We fell in love, and we had Blue. When Blue turned twelve, she passed away. It was a difficult time for all of us…eventually, my son and I drifted apart. That day he had decided to build an empire of heroes, I had made the decision to silently leave the association."

Blast opened his eyes and turned his head towards Saitama, a minuscule albeit warm smile curving his thin lips. "We all have a purpose in this life, Saitama. I have learned that the best way to achieve it is to reach towards our greatest self and to do it so with passion and courage…especially with the most difficult decisions."

Saitama quietly trudged along the familiar road that led to the H.A. residential areas, the words of Blast emblazoned on his mind. The old hero had divulged quite a lot, and it was only now that he was slowly taking in everything. It somewhat perplexed him how a revered individual could make the seemingly irresponsible decisions of leaving the Hero Association when they needed him the most. Still, like most—if not all—heroes, Blast is just a man. For beneath his striking reputation and charismatic personality, Blast struggled in resolving his tarnished relationship with his son, and in his own ways, he's still trying to make amends for his mistakes. Truly enough, no one is perfect.

Maybe if his wife was still alive, she'd know what to do, Saitama thought. But he seems like a really cool and smart guy. Maybe things would get better, and hopefully, he and his son would reunite. But those are his problems—well, we all have our own.

Suddenly, his mind shifted gears—considering that of all the confidences the man has disclosed to him, Tatsumaki's past has intrigued him the most.

"I thought she would stand and run away like the others—instead, she just stood there like a helpless animal and, then, she just turned around. When I asked why she did not fight back, she merely told me she wasn't strong enough… I took Tatsumaki under my wing until she and her sister were adopted by some affluent family. Since then, I rarely saw her…I treated her as if she was my own daughter."

Saitama slowed down, reaching the gargantuan gate that would further lead to the apartment units. He paused, wordlessly waved at the guard, and stepped forward. Pocketing his hands, he stopped at the lone street lamp at the intersection, his head veering to the shiny S-Class building.

There was still so much he didn't know about Tatsumaki, about her past, about her childhood, about how she trained under the most renowned hero's mentorship. Blast had given him a glimpse of it, and he found himself yearning to know more. Although he respected and adored the person she is in the present, his disquieted mind continued to pepper him with a dozen more questions, and he knew that he would have to ask her sometime soon.

As Saitama climbed the last of the stairs that led to his floor, he was caught off-guard seeing two executives standing in front of his apartment door. "Uh, can I help you?" he asked, walking towards the suited figures. Getting a closer look, he recognized how this man and woman seemed quite familiar—indeed, they were the ones who 'diplomatically' told him to stop seeing Tatsumaki.

"Mister Caped Baldy, good to see you," Hebert greeted.

"Saitama's just fine," the bald man interjected, annoyed they addressed with

"Mister Saitama, we apologize if we've startled you. You were quite difficult to contact. We've gotten no response from the emails, voicemails…"

"Uh, huh, yeah, I've been…trying to lie low for a while. What's up?"

"We won't waste any more of your time. Foremost, Hebert and I are here to personally apologize for forcing you to stop meeting with Tornado. It was a poor decision that we had agreed to our superiors, and it was very unethical of us to do such," Deco said, remorseful.

"Eh, that's no problem. You guys were just following orders," Saitama remarked. "Did y'all come here just to tell me that?"

"And—uh, we came for one more thing," Hebert chimed in. He unlocked and opened his leather briefcase, brought out a large thick brown envelope, and carefully handed it over to the hero with both hands.

Saitama received the envelope with an arched brow and opened it on the side. He pulled out what appeared like a picture frame artistically wrapped in white crepe paper. After glancing at the executives who gave him an affirmative nod, he finally tore the thin sheets of paper and was stunned to find a golden certificate concealed underneath with the mark S-Class written in embossed letters along with his name brushed in elegant calligraphy.

"The Hero Association board of directors has finally recognized and established your contributions to the company and to humanity as a professional hero, Mister Saitama," Hebert declared with a wide smile. "Please allow us to be the first to extend our warmest congratulations."

"If you accept the promotion to join the S-Class, your certificate will be officialized with the Hero Association seal. You will then have to start from the bottom again, although the benefits will be granted immediately—specifically, this means that you will be receiving a significantly higher salary and living quarters at the S-Class residential area. Furthermore, any of your requested materials or equipment will be prioritized," added Deco.

"But, of course, along with these benefits, the burden of becoming an S-Class hero also significantly escalates. You will be assigned to the stronger, more devilish monsters the lower classes could not handle," Hebert expounded. "You don't have to make a decision now, Mister Saitama. We'll give you a call next week and ask if you've made up your mind."

"Well, that's all we came for. You'll soon hear from us, and we hope you would accept this once in a lifetime offer," added Deco.

As Deco and Hebert formally made their leave, Saitama opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside the hollow and quiet space, the golden certificate dangling on his left hand. He placed the fancy document on the wooden table and turned on his voicemail, mindlessly hearing out the fervent requests for interviews that incessantly played one after the other.

Several hours passed. Saitama had finished his dinner—a bowl of marinated crab with a side of rice—tidied up the dishes, washed up, brushed his teeth, and is now laying silently on his futon amidst the darkness. His face was tilted upward, and his eyes were glued to the linear patterns on the ceiling that seemed almost invisible.

His thoughts drifted to baby Mob…then to Tatsumaki. The woman, though still adamant of taking charge in caring for their son, was more lenient and accepting of his offer to help around. She really did change. Saitama lightly chuckled to himself. How he longed to see them again. He visited them yesterday, albeit somehow, he wished that he could wake up with them by his side. He wanted them to be a part of his every day.

Saitama's cellphone lit up, notifying him of a text from King. Oh, yeah, right. I was supposed to tell them about the S-Class promotion thing, he thought. Grabbing his phone, he replied to King's ridiculous random message while revealing to him about the Hero Association's promotional offer. As if it was instinct, he texted Genos the same thing.

He was about to lock the screen of his phone when another thought came to mind. Should I tell Tatsumaki? With a silent breath, he searched for her name in the contact list and typed in the message box:

Hey, Tats. Game to meet tomorrow morning at the meadow? Tell your sister to babysit.

Tatsumaki wasn't entirely sure of what he had meant when he randomly asked her to meet him, all the more of how he had successfully convinced her to fly to the meadow and meet him at freaking 09:00. Maybe it was because she was intrigued by the sudden invitation, or because she too had her own piece to share—her own secrets to divulge. Saitama had asked that they meet on the grassy field near the lone sycamore tree—the exact spot where she and he had watched the fireflies dance after the chaos at the restaurant. She was here now, as agreed. Where the bloody hell was he?

"Sorry I'm late. Got lost looking for the tree," Saitama declared as he approached the little woman with a tiny smile. Tatsumaki glanced over her shoulder, but she didn't bother to turn around and face him as if her courtesy was focused on the small pond of wild koi instead. She was dressed in an unusual wardrobe—a plain beige dress underneath a white cardigan—unbecoming of her persona, but he had to admit that it was a refreshing sight. He took out a cold can of unsweetened peach juice from the plastic bag and handed it over to her. "Here's your drink," he said, and she finally turned around to face him.

"What's this? I said I wanted a highball!" Tatsumaki protested though still accepting the canned drink.

"No alcohol for you," Saitama merely rebutted.

"I am not going to get drunk—ugh, fine! At least let me sip from yours."

"I got an iced coffee, Tats. Besides, it's not that—it's because you're feeding Mob."

"A little party never killed anybody…" Tatsumaki grumpily murmured.

"A little party got you pregnant and made me a daddy."

After their comical squabble, Saitama and Tatsumaki seated themselves on the grass, taking in the vast colors of the wild hyacinths, daisies, windflowers, and lavenders across the field while slowly sipping on their cold beverages. It was just about to turn nine in the morning, and the sunshine's warmth against their skin only added to the pleasing silence that settled between them. A soft breeze blew, carrying with it the scent of the lavenders, and Saitama turned his head to look at Tatsumaki only to find her gaze already affixed on him. "You called me out here, and now that we are…so, um, what's up?" she asked, still feeling a bit shy and awkward around him.

"Oh, erm, I just wanted to tell you that the association offered me to join the S-Class," Saitama said, averting his eyes. "Talked to Genos and King about it last night, and they both told me that I should accept it."

"So, what's holding you back?" Tatsumaki asked, sipping on her drink. "I mean—I'm just assuming you're telling me this because you're still unsure of your decision despite those knobheads' advice."

"Hey, I tell you other random things too. I don't talk to you just to milk advice from you and stuff."

"Ugh, that's not my point, Baldy! Just answer the friggin' question."

"What question?"

"I asked what's holding you back. Why can't you accept the bitch-ass association's offer of a promotion? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

Saitama paused, then took a swig of his canned coffee. "Honestly, I never really wanted to be an S-Class hero. It wasn't my goal. Ranks don't really matter to me—besides, it only an elicits unhealthy competition." He glanced at Tatsumaki, who was holding her drink with both hands and staring at the grass swaying beneath her legs. "Sure, it's no different in terms of how tough the monsters I have to deal with would be, but the pay's not too shabby. I actually wanted to accept their offer right then and there, then I remembered something that Blast told me."

Tatsumaki shot Saitama a glance, eyebrows knitted in her surprise and slight confusion. "Did you just say 'Blast'? Like, you mean the hero?"

"Uh…yeah," Saitama answered in his usual indifferent tone. "We met at a bar yesterday, and he told me about his life as a hero, his life with the Hero Association, and gave me some advice. He really got me thinking about my decision of accepting the promotion. Oh! And he told me about you, too."

Tatsumaki blinked. "He told you about me?"

"Yeah, like, how you were experimented on as a kid, how he saved you, and how he mentored you until you were adopted…" Saitama began. "Sounds like you've had it bad as a kid. Though it seems that Blast really cared about you—he even said you were the closest thing to a daughter. He told me to take care of you and Mob, and of course, I said that I would. Honestly, it was a promise I made for myself even before Mob was born. Now, it's my promise to you, Mob, and Blast. You can count on me, Tats." Saitama turned his face to Tatsumaki, giving her a small but reassuring smile, but when he saw the woman's face, her lips were pierced in a tight line, and her eyebrows were crooked. Tatsumaki blinked fiercely, trying to stifle her tears from falling. "Oy, Tats! A-Are you…crying? Are you okay?" Saitama asked, a bit startled.

"No, no, not crying—I'm fine. Was that…was that all he said?"

"Pretty much."

Tatsumaki closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. When she opened them again, she tilted her head to the sky, taking in the breath of the meadow. "I've never told this to anyone else…the reason why I chose to become a hero was because of Blast. I wanted to become like him—strong, efficient, unyielding. After my sister and I were adopted, I trained myself mentally to remain resolute and never seek anyone's help. It was my personal philosophy, and it was what helped me survive. Some years later, the Hero Association wanted to take me in, but I had my own terms and they agreed to all those—they'd agree to anything I say because they were afraid of me. Because of my overwhelming strength. Because I was the Tornado of Terror." She opened her eyes, revealing mesmerizing jade orbs that glistened with tears. "My life would have always been the same since then…but everything suddenly changed…when I met you."

Saitama veered his head to look at Tatsumaki. Her face was flushed and a tear slowly fell down her cheek. He pursed his lips and felt that he needed to comfort her, until Tatsumaki resumed, "You…you were the biggest bitch in my life. I had never ever found myself so pathetically weak—so vulnerable—against anyone but you. And yet, no one has given me the chance to look into myself the way you did. No has changed me like this—has made me feel so much stronger than before. Not even Fubuki. It boggles me…and I asked myself…if you never got me pregnant, if we had met in different circumstances, would we still be here now like this?"

"Well, would it matter if it did?" Saitama asked, and Tatsumaki responded with a confused pout. Begrudgingly, he handed his coffee for her to try, and as she did, he elaborated, "Would it matter if we met as children, or as colleagues, or as aliens in outer space? Tats, all those what-ifs and only-ifs only make us linger on the past. It's just gonna stress you out, and more problems'll keep popping out. I say—keep one eye open in the present, and the other for the future." Tatsumaki wordlessly returned the can to him. Saitama crushed it and placed it inside the plastic bag to dispose of later. "Guess I'm sorry too for being such a nuisance in your life. Didn't mean to," he said with a tiny laugh.

Tatsumaki looked at Saitama and, feeling her heart lighten up, gave the man a small smile. It was the rare, genuine smile he had seen somewhere before; regardless, it was a gesture of hers that he would never get tired of.

"You're right. The present and the future are what's more important…" Tatsumaki reflected, wiping the dried streak the tear had left on her cheek. "Speaking of the future, I was thinking of leaving the Hero Association, and maybe, join the Neo Heroes instead."

"You're quitting?!" Saitama asked, unable to conceal his surprise.

"I'm still thinking about it, though I've pretty much convinced myself that I should. I want to grow as both a person and a hero, just as you've shown and taught me, Saitama. There's so much I need to figure out, and that half-assed Hero Association filled with vile and idiotic shit-brains would just hinder me!"

"Ah, I see," Saitama muttered as if fully understanding the woman. He gave her a wide smile. "Well, fight on, Tats!" he beamed, raising a fervent fist. "Whatever your decision is, I'll always have your back."

Tatsumaki rolled her eyes, chortled, then mimicked his gesture. "…And, well, um…I've got yours." She stole him a glimpse and sheepishly smiled to herself.

The comfortable silence briefly returned, each feeling a shared sense of security and serenity within themselves. Then, in a swift motion and giving it no thought at all, Tatsumaki leaned in close and planted a tender kiss on Saitama's cheek. Withdrawing herself and pursing her lips, she lightly chuckled, seeing the bewildered expression on the bald man's face. She knew she'd caught him off-guard.

"What was that for? Why'd you…?" Saitama asked, still recovering from his surprise.

Tatsumaki averted her gaze and fiddled with that nestled grass between her fingers. "Because, Baldy, I really like you," she uttered. She had considered a more intricate or poetic articulation of her confession, but after all this time, those simple words were long overdue. Anyhow, it was for the better—she knew Saitama was a no-nonsense kind of guy who always liked to get straight to the point.

"Like…as a friend?" Saitama clarified.

"No, like…like—like you."

Saitama's expression changed, albeit just barely. Tatsumaki found it hard to look into his eyes, and she shifted her posture as she flicked glances between him and the grass. Still, she did not regret her words, and she wanted Saitama to know that. Whether he felt the same way or not, she did not regret any of it.

Deep within herself, she expected him to say just that and leave.

But what she didn't expect was his lips on hers.

Saitama moved in swiftly—so sudden that Tatsumaki's eyes were still unfocused when their lips met. Her breath caught in her throat, and she finally drew her eyes in a close. Had she only known, she would've considered to purse her lips and adjust her stance; but the kiss was rushed, and she was overwhelmed by the startling pressure against her lips. A touch so firm, and yet, so pleasant and warm that her heart melted right then and there. He was so close to her, and she could feel his breathing through his nose against her skin before he pulled away.

Tatsumaki's eyes fluttered as she lightly licked the top of her lip, gracefully placing her dainty fingers over her mouth. Another cool breeze whiffed at her face, and the scent of lavender eased her mind.

"That…was…pretty nice," she murmured inelegantly, still in a daze. It was all she could manage to say.

Saitama blinked and his eyes wavered. It didn't take long for Tatsumaki to recognize that he was just as nervous and mystified as she was—they both were new to this, after all. He arched his back and tried to keep his hands steady, but the sincere look on his countenance betrayed his body language. Tatsumaki kept her gaze locked at him.

"Ahem, um…maybe you, you know, should accept the association's offer. Could be that some bald dumbass with a killer punch and big heart might just be the antidote to all the graft and corruption sizzling within those walls," she blurted, unsure of how to carry on with the conversation.

It took a minute for the words to sink in Saitama's brain and for him to realize that Tatsumaki had digressed to their earlier topic about his promotion. Normally, it would have gone over his head, but her compliment of how she believed that he could be the key to turn the tide in this industrial mayhem unraveled feelings in him that he had never quite tapped on before.

"Cleaning up corporate dirt isn't part of the job," Saitama said coolly. "But the pay's nothing to snort at. Plus, I could get your unit at the S-Class building…or better yet, I could, y'know, get you and Mob as roommates."

"You'd really want to live…with me?" Tatsumaki abruptly asked, shooting him a surprised stare.

"Honestly, yeah. I didn't know when it happened—but I started to become used to you. Wouldn't it be better for Mob too that he grows up with both his parents?"

Tatsumaki let a small smile show. "Well, I was actually just thinking about that," she admitted. "If I were to leave the association, I would have to go back to the old mansion I grew up in and bring Mob with me. I knew it wasn't going to be fair to you, so I was a bit hesitant about it. Actually I'd thought that…we would eventually drift apart and forget everything that has ever happened between us. At some point, it began to scare me."

Saitama let out a silent huff before muttering, "That might've scared me, too."

Tatsumaki was a bit taken aback by his words. She never expected that the emotionless Saitama would be scared of his future—let alone their future. Her gaze softened, and she took his hand in hers, feeling Saitama tense at the sudden gesture. He was still getting used to the affection, after all. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze, her soft skin intertwining over his calloused fingers. "But when I…when we deal with it together, I think it kinda gets a bit more exciting."

Saitama turned towards the bright morning sky and let a smile show despite himself. Tatsumaki's hand on his was somehow reassuring, and when she held him tighter, he felt as if he did believe in her words. He never had thought that he would fall for someone; until recently, he wasn't even aware this type of feeling existed. While he could remember the feelings of anxiety, tension, excitement…

He had never felt this warm.

As the pair climbed the stairs that led to the floor of Tatsumaki's condo unit, the Esper suddenly stopped in her tracks. Something was wrong. It wasn't Mob—she could sense him sleeping soundly in his room with Aunt Fubuki close by. Particularly, there were several persons inside her suite, and her instincts immediately kicked in. Tatsumaki swiftly flew towards her door, then she telekinetically unlocked the knob, twisted it open, and entered inside. At first glance, nothing seemed suspicious. Tatsumaki knitted her eyebrows, and Saitama peeked over her shoulder.

"Yo, something going on?" he asked.

"Not really, but I just had a feeling that—"

"SURPRIIISE!"

Before Tatsumaki and Saitama could fully process what was going on, they were ushered to the center of the living room, where they found themselves in a ridiculously and dramatically designed space with colorful streamlined garlands, balloons, and showers of confetti.

"Could someone explain to me what the flying fuck is going on?" Tatsumaki demanded.

"Big sis! Please don't be crossed. This is a surprise party for you and Saitama!" Fubuki announced. "We never got to throw you a proper baby shower, and we've just heard about Saitama's promotion to the S-Class! If you're worried about the mess, we all promise to clean up after."

"Honey, this is definitely a reason to party," Puri Puri chimed in.

"I still have to accept their offer though," Saitama muttered but was ignored due to the merry clamor of the crowd.

"You two just sit back, relax, and have fun! We even brought the karaoke machine over!" Darkshine declared, standing out from the crowd.

"Wait, wait, wait—what about Mob? Where is he?" Tatsumaki asked.

As if on cue, Genos steps out of the baby room, carrying an awake and curious Mob who peered at everyone with his huge eyes, surveying these old people's funny faces as if they were colorful jars of different fruit candies. Mob seemed comfortable in the cyborg's metal arms, tilting his head up to glimpse at Genos and raising his tiny hand to feel his cheek. Genos remained unfazed even as baby Mob continued to swat at him. After a moment, baby Mob let out a small and adorable chortle.

Sounds of gasps, laughter, and aww's filled the room. The excited aunt gleefully clapped her hands.

"Oh, God—my heart just stopped right there!" Fubuki exclaimed.

Genos gently handed the baby over to Saitama. "He's just awoken from his nap, Master. He seems quite persnickety."

Saitama picked baby Mob from under his arms and gave him a little wiggle. "Naw, he's good, aren't you, little dude?" he baby-talked. Mob let out another giggle seeing his father's face and tried to reach for his head with both hands. "H-Hey, not the head. Ignore the head!"

"Well, what're we all waiting for? Let's get this party started!" bellowed Suiryu.

…

After just a few minutes, everyone was enjoying themselves at the house party. As Puri Puri Prisoner and Darkshine outperformed the signature choreography with "I'm Too Sexy" on the karaoke machine, Suiryu found himself rubbing shoulders with the renowned martial artists, Bang and Bomb, after a series of drunken martial arts jokes. Meanwhile, King, Mumen Rider, and Lily crowded over baby Mob as each got a chance to hold him in his arms. In the present moment, it was King's turn to cradle him.

"Oh, what the—! Shit, man, he's so soft!" King nervously chortled. He rotated his head a bit and looked at Mob. "Why are you so damn cute?! M-My legs might give in…"

"If he slips, you're dead." Tatsumaki snapped.

Just then, Fubuki and Genos entered the room, carrying about a dozen of wrapped gifts. "Time to open presents!" Fubuki cheered.

After Puri Puri and Darkshine had finished their number, dissatisfied with a score of 91, the group huddled over to the living room to watch Tatsumaki open the gifts through her telekinesis (as expected). At first, the gifts seemed quite typical—some of which consisted of a pair of blue booties and some rompers from Lily, a stuffed toy bicycle from Mumen Rider, some wooden blocks, and a superhero-themed puzzle from Suiryu. Then, their perfunctory activity suddenly got a lot more interesting when Tatsumaki and Saitama opened the gifts for them.

"Please don't tell me this is…well, crap…it is," Tatsumaki uttered, taking out about half of a black silk lingerie, then quickly returning it into its box. She stifled herself from throwing a rage fit, blushing into the shade of ripe tomato.

"Hey, that's my gift for you! Take it out!" Puri Puri protested.

"This isn't a bachelorette party!" Fubuki commented on her end. "I told you to keep things rated-PG!"

Puri Puri huffed. "Well, it's not for the baby now, is it?"

"Heh, obviously it's for Saitama," King coughed out.

The group let out a long and loud "Ooohhh." Tatsumaki felt her face burn, and she shot King a death glare. King immediately raises his hands in defense.

"I mean, it's for Saitama to wear," he clarified. Good recovery, good recovery right there.

"Um, honestly, I really think I've been kinda MIA. So…aren't Saitama and Miss Tatsumaki married or something?" Suiryu suddenly asked.

"We're not," Tatsumaki and Saitama replied in unison.

"So, when's the wedding? I mean, you've got your little family going on right here, so when do y'all plan to make it legal?" Darkshine interjected, gesturing his ring finger as he mentioned the last word.

"Big sis, please, I beg you—make me plan your wedding! I would definitely work my ass off for it, and you wouldn't have to lift a single finger. All you need is to approve my suggestions, but I'll take charge of the reservations and the logistics and—!"

"Do slow down there, Miss Blizzard," Mumen Rider politely intercepted. "You're her sister! Of course, you'll be the maid of honor and help call the shots."

Lily turned to Tatsumaki. "Your wedding would be such a dream, Miss Tatsumaki! Miss Fubuki is the best of the best, no doubt about it!"

Tatsumaki parted her lips to speak until Genos beat her to the chase. "Master Saitama! If there is to be a wedding, I will engage in combat with anyone in this room who disagrees that I shall be your best man. Please accept my services to all your maternal concerns, master."

"A wedding is indeed a most excitable idea. I believe we haven't even attended one in years," Bang said, turning to his brother, who silently nodded in agreement.

After a brief silence settled, Tatsumaki let out an audibly frustrated sigh. "Is everyone done tossing me their shit? Going once? Going twice?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Okay, I'll say this like some fucking declaration of independence: until Saitama and I can properly discuss our future, there will be no wedding. It's just too damn soon for that!"

"She just said, our future—how romantic!" Lily squealed to Fubuki, who secretly giggled along with her.

Suiryu eased his knitted brows and looked up to face the growling little Esper. "…If it's still too soon—so, you're telling us there's still a chance?"

As soon as the guests have left and the beautiful twilight sky has shifted to tones of dark blue highlighting the glow of the stars, Tatsumaki found herself leaning over her balcony. She lifted her head slightly, turning her gaze to the moon and sipping on some cold lemonade.

A lot of things had happened that day, but all she could think of right now is Saitama.

One small ice cube found its way into her mouth, and she playfully crunched it like a piece of candy. Just a few minutes ago, just after Saitama and Genos had left, Fubuki had excused herself to the baby room to check on the sleeping baby. Tatsumaki wondered that after she was finished, she would probably just make her leave and head home.

"Hey, big sis, you still up?"

Spoke too soon. The older Esper turned her back from the balcony and glanced at Fubuki. Her glass of lemonade was now empty, the droplets from the cold moist trickling down her fingertips. She looked at her sister with her typical unreadable gaze, yet Fubuki knew exactly what she was thinking about.

Fubuki accompanied her, leaning her elbows against the iron railing, taking in the late-summer breeze. The air was a bit colder now with autumn well on its way. "Seems like you've got a liking to this spot, huh? You come to this place whenever you're thinking."

"It's not the meadow—but I can see the moon and stars from here just fine."

"Right. But that's not what you're thinking about now, is it?" Fubuki said, hinting a tease. "Well, I was just wondering you'd like some company…and maybe talk about this." She handed over a small white envelope, and Tatsumaki looked at it with curious eyes. "It's from Child Emperor."

Tatsumaki placed her glass on the table, courteously opened the envelope, and read the letter aloud.

Dear Miss Tatsumaki,

Foremost, I would like to extend my congratulations to you and Caped Baldy. I was sincerely worried for you after hearing the news, but I am deeply relieved to hear that you and your baby are safe. Contrary to what most may believe, I know that you will be an excellent and loving mother.

Secondly, it is with great delight that I write to offer you a formal invitation to join our organization, the Neo Heroes. While I am uncertain of the depths of your commitment to your present affiliation, I am still willing to take this risk of inviting you to join us. Please find enclosed information on the Neo Heroes as well as the legal documents pertaining to this invitation. My contact information is included in this package, and should you have any reason to request a meeting, I am amenable to any time or place you prefer.

I am looking to hearing from you again soon regarding this new venture and beginning what promises to be a lucrative relationship for us.

Yours sincerely,

Child Emperor

As soon as she had finished, Tatsumaki neatly folded the paper and returned it inside the envelope. Her sister looked at her with hopeful eyes, though somewhat worried that she might cast it aside. With a sigh, Tatsumaki returned to her gaze to the stars, amazed by its serene and immortalized beauty.

"This morning, Saitama and I met in the meadow…and we, you know, talked about his promotion and my quitting the association…"

Tatsumaki's words caught Fubuki slightly off-guard. "…And? What did he say?"

"He…supported me. He said he'll always have my back." She placed the envelope on the table next to her emptied glass and hovered beside her sister. "Kinda makes me feel like I should take the offer, huh?"

Fubuki gave her a warm smile. "Silly, big sis. It means whatever your decision is, he'll be there for you."

"I know—I just…I'm not used to it! No one has ever given me this kind of encouragement…no one has ever made me feel this way—it's just so damn weird."

Fubuki chortled at this, and Tatsumaki sent her a grimace. "Come on, sis, liven up. I'm laughing because you're acting ridiculous, and because I'm happy for you. After all these years, you've finally learned to open your heart to someone else. Not only have you learned how to trust, but you've also learned how to love." She took hold of her sister's cold hand. "This is only the beginning, Tatsumaki. And if mom and dad were here, I'm sure they'll be very proud of you."

Tatsumaki blinked slowly, the moonlight reflecting in her eyes. Feeling her heart swell, she gave Fubuki an affectionate smile. "Of us, Fubuki. They'll be proud of us."

It was turning one in the morning, and the sisters had the unspoken consensus to hit the hay. Tatsumaki insisted that Fubuki spend the night at her place, and as she retrieved the letter with the decision to answer it the following day, Fubuki briefly turned around to catch one last glimpse at the stellar evening sky, whispering a few of her thanks.

Two months later

After the celebration had ended, everything in Tatsumaki's life felt like it was happening in a blur. Several weeks may have passed, but to her, it only felt like an instant. She and Saitama had inexplicitly agreed to keep their relationship a secret—that is, for the most part. As expected, Fubuki picked up on it quite easily, and she had accidentally spilled the beans to Genos who, fortunately for the peculiar couple, respected their wishes to lie low, especially among their comrades and the H.A. executives.

The press still appended themselves on the pair—though much more often on Saitama—but as time went on, the initial buzz had withered down. What kept the media on their toes was any information relative to their son, the secret behind Saitama's strength, and their alleged relationship (some rumors circulated that they had covertly wedded). Despite these, Tatsumaki and Saitama agreed that everything died down enough to longer hide themselves—specifically, use radical means of concealing themselves when going out in public.

Tatsumaki had finally adjusted her work-life balance as mother and hero. With the help of Saitama, Fubuki, and sometimes Genos (though she would never acknowledge it), she was able to handle assignments quickly and efficiently without having to worry about Mob at home. As she has anticipated, the Neo Heroes was a lot more accommodating of her intrinsic needs than the Hero Association ever was, and she found herself actually enjoying herself. While she still very much prefers working solo, she seemed to have built a more amicable relationship with Child Emperor and the enigmatic Blue. Tatsumaki couldn't exactly point out what it was about the teenager that made her so attentive towards him, though she felt as if she had met him before—perhaps, a long time ago or in some other life.

A tempestuous autumn breeze whiffed by, and Tatsumaki tugged on the collars of her trench coat, privately scolding herself for not dressing warmly enough and quickly taking it back when she blamed it on the skintight body thermals and their confusing "heat levels". Days this cold were unusual in City A, and it seemed to have taken everyone by surprise. Spotting the S-Class residences from over the horizon, and lit up and picked up her speed.

Pushing the door open, Tatsumaki let out an instant breath of relief when the warm air from the heater caressed her dry skin. She took off her coat and beret, placed them on the holder, and slipped on her house slippers. As she paced to the living room, she craned her neck to the sofa to see a shiny head peeking over the edge.

Tatsumaki approached with a huff. "It's like a fucking blizzard without the snow," she remarked, slumping on the middle area just in front of Saitama's torso. "These thermals aren't even worth crap. They have one job—one job, damn it!"

Saitama didn't move from his position, one hand lazily resting against his cheek and the other hidden inside a bag of potato chips. "I told you to get the ones with the ultra-heat level," he said nonchalantly. "And don't scream—Mob's still asleep."

Tatsumaki grabbed a potato chip. "That's ridiculous! Those quote-and-quote levels are just business tactics to get you to spend more money," she said, lifting a finger to emphasize her point.

"Only real way to find out is to buy one and compare it with what you've got," Saitama suggested.

"No way! You buy one and tell me the difference."

"Heh, I'm not wasting money on that."

"What the hell," Tatsumaki uttered. She then lunged a potato chip to Saitama at incredible speed, but the man only opened his mouth, munched on the salty snack, then swallowed. Tatsumaki rolled her eyes. It was like she had tossed a treat to a trained dog. She narrowed her eyes, thinking of shallow ways of how she could get back at Saitama. Bored from strategizing her ideas, she veered her attention to the movie on the television instead.

"What're you watching?" she asked.

"Some random movie that randomly came on."

Tatsumaki wanted to groan at his answer, but she was no longer in a mood to bicker so she decided to watch with him instead. Pushing herself up on the couch, she brought her legs and up and nestled her back against Saitama's torso. She pulled herself upward a bit until her eyes were past his arm, and her neck rested comfortably on it. Now, this was cozy.

They continued to watch in silence until a certain scene suddenly came up. The leading actor and actress were in a barn, and after a significantly long stare off, they lunged their faces towards the other and started to feverishly make out, tossing their clothes everywhere until they were naked enough to bounce around their bodies on top a picnic mat.

"You know it just occurred to me that I couldn't remember a single detail from that night after the club," Tatsumaki blurted. "Wonder what could have happened in between…or what it would have felt like."

Saitama became flustered at the insinuation, and he averted his attention by taking another potato chip and slowly munching on it instead. Tatsumaki didn't even stifle her smirk as she felt him uncomfortably shift behind her.

"Hey, Baldy, did you ever think that sex could feel different when you're drunk and when you're sober?" she asked, trying to catch a glimpse of his reaction.

"Uh…what are you—"

"Guess we'll never know." Tatsumaki straightened herself a bit. The scene was over, and the movie carried on, but neither seemed interested in it now. "Hmm, like yeah, sex is cool, but you know what's strangely better?" she asked.

"…What?"

"Doing the dishes with someone else."

"I'd beg to disagree," Saitama rebutted.

Tatsumaki felt her cheeks flare up. "…R-Really?"

"Yup. Eating hotpot is way cooler than doing dishes."

Fin.

A/N: I apologize for taking so long with this final chapter, and I really do appreciate everyone's patience and support. I'm so glad I was able to finish this just after the latest Manga chapter by Murata-san was released! Anyhow, I would like to thank Glasses Writer, Mallory S. Nocturne, cloudpanda961, Unlighted, Shiroraven, Tchaikovsky, Abraham, Mewtwo-TheLoneShadow, starscreamer11, Lin Shadow, Paradox009, MVJames, joey8172, Dennis S., trance dance, Rice with Chest-Nuts, Fabb5000, BlinDead, and ChangeMe4574 for reviewing! Thank you as well to all the guest reviewers :)

Most people on the Internet seem to agree that Blast could somehow be an anti-thesis to Saitama (there was even a blogpost about this somewhere). Visualizing him, I kinda saw him as a serious yet suave gentleman—like George Clooney, who aged like fine wine with a really seductive voice—and also is a contrast to the well-loved baldy's more laid-back and lax nature.

Also, I love that some are giving song suggestions (thanks for giving one, Shiroraven!). While writing this, I've mostly listened to piano instrumentals inspired by songs from Studio Ghibli films on YouTube. Here's one with a serene night ambiance playing in the background: watch?v=7voSN82FGF0

Anyhow, I'll keep this message sweet and simple. I convey my heart-filled gratitude to everyone who has followed this story from day one. Whether you've reviewed or not, I am thankful to you. This story wasn't meant to be this long, but I was really inspired by the many uplifting words. Again, thank you so much for keeping me motivated.

I know some queries or concerns haven't been addressed as clearly in the story, but again, my goal isn't to answer or tap on everything. Given this, I apologize if it seems somewhat lacking—but if it helps, I'll be working on a sequel soon. Though I'm not sure when I could release it since there is real life to be dealt with. This isn't mandatory, of course, but you could always follow me so you'd get notified once the first chapter comes out.

As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Write a review, or send me a PM, or link me a telepathic message—whichever works well for you.

Again, thank you all for reading, and I wish you the best in life. Stay healthy and hopeful.

Until the next story…fight on!