'Dude.'

'No.'

'But I-'

'No.'

'It would be just once-!'

'Believe it or not, still no.'

Saitama turned around so he could look into the Walking Man's eyes. It meant walking backwards - the guy seemed hellbent on getting away from him - but that wasn't a problem for hi speed. It wasn't the mot finicky thing he'd done since the end of his training, either. Like, the planet was still there, despite him throwing a lot of punches on it.

Running his hands over his head with an exasperated grin (he wasn't usually this expressive, but then, he rarely ran into people who could take a hit), Saitama said, 'Just, listen to me! I've seen your powers. If you're worried about collateral, you can take us somewhere else. Or Blast can do it. Speaking of him, I've seen his portals stop just short of your skin, and those are holes in reality! I'm sure you can take it.'

Saint gave him a sidelong look, accompanied by a sarcastic smile. 'Getting your rocks off by hurting people? Not very heroic of you. But then, everyone does say you're fast to steal credit, too, so I shouldn't be surprised.'

Saitama grumbled under his breath. He really didn't care about the Hero Association's rankings, it was just popularity, But the shitty rep pissed him off sometimes, even if it was one of his friends getting credit for the Monsters he defeated. 'It's not like that, man,' he muttered. 'Just, I've been unable to put my back into it since I got like this. It's...annoying.' Being a Hero for fun, with so little fun, wasn't good for his state of mind.

'You mean bald?'

'Who are you calling bald?! I-' Saitama caught himself, clearing his throat. 'I mean...' he sighed, crossing his arms. 'Look, I don't even wanna fight anymore, ok? Just let me throw a punch. One. And it will be over.'

* * *

Finding a hospitable (for a given value of the word) planet at the edge of the universe, where matter and energy became scarce, would have been a Herculean task for some of the more advanced civilisations he'd met. But Saint's senses were guided by God, and so was his stride. He could go where he had to, or else he would never have earned his moniker.

The bald bloke in the yellow jumpsuit gave him a blank look at they stood, a pace apart, on a flat plain located somewhere in the planet's equator. With his white cape fluttering slightly in the alien breeze, Saitama stepped forward, fist cocked, and-

"LET THERE...!"

Saint would have recognised the Voice, the power, anywhere. It was how the cosmos had come to be, wrought by the being who empowered him. It wasn't like the birth of the universe, more like half of it - and good thing, too, or the destruction wouldn't have stopped short of Earth. Even so, a fraction of the blast had struck mankind's homeworld, likely strong enough to inconvenience a few people.

His companion forgotten, Saint turned towards Earth, senses trained on...

On...

It all made sense. How had he not seen it before? How had he been so blind?

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

* * *

King stared down at the controller, sweat running down his face and heart racing. He wasn't sure where that shockwave had come from - there wasn't a Monster rampaging outside, in any case - but it had damaged the reinforced device Saitama had requested a while ago. While not up to withstanding his true strength (King doubted there was any material or person that tough), as long as his friend didn't lose his temper - as he sometimes did when he got rekt during their games; it couldn't be helped - it would hold together.

So what the hell had hit it enough to mangle it without wrecking the house or damaging his hands...? He'd been holding it, after all.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a...miracle.

'King-Sama,' his current partner's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, a nervous look in his usually flat eyes. Genos' voice wasn't shaking, but only barely. 'I...I understand I do not share your mastery of such activities, but there is no need to vent your frustration on the equipment.'

'Ah, no, nothing like that, man,' King waved him off, running his other hand through his long blond hair. 'It wasn't like that...'

King trailed off as he saw that weirdo in the duster Saitama had been hanging around appear out of nowhere, a serious look on his face. His eyes widened with something like understanding as he was the controller, and King inwardly sweat-dropped.

'You did that...' the Walking Man whispered in a tone like he'd just had a revelation. 'Half of the power that made everything, and you weren't even straining yourself...' Saint's eyes snapped up to his and he grabbed King by the shoulders. 'Now I understand why the thing that calls itself God and its lackeys are trying to destroy this world! They know you are touched by Him, like I am!'

As his heart sped up, filling the room with its loud beats, King could have groaned. Had Saitama joined a cult or what...? He saw his friend standing a few steps way from the weirdo, raising his hands as he shrugged.

'Now, now,' Saint chuckled as he heard the "King Engine", 'no reason to get worked up. You can remain here, and continue your mission of protecting the world. I'm not going to ask anything of you. What more could the Earth want than a defender strong enough to defeat anything, and too humble to stick around and be rewarded for his deeds?'

As he watched Saitama roll his eyes, King once more thought if being honest wouldn't help...then wondered if anyone would believe him.

'Dude!' the caped Hero said, grabbing Saint's shoulder. 'That was me!'

'Oh, sure,' the Walking Man said, shrugging his hand off with a roll of his eyes. 'You're that strong, huh? And everyone's just unaware.'

'Wha-I bet you didn't even see me throw that punch!'

'No, I didn't.'

'Well!'

'Because you didn't punch anything.'

'Now, see here!'

Looking from the two arguing men to the fascinated-looking Genos, King wondered if it wouldn't be better to hang out at an arcade next time, rather than his place.