Breaking the Barrier (Saitama x Tatsumaki)

Martial Arts...They Suck

"Baldy, why are you wearing a damn wig?" I sigh. "You realize that Garou got away, right?"

"Hmm," he nods. "Genos, King, Silver Fang and his brother are supposed to come over tomorrow night so they can recover, but they told me they're spending today helping the heroes who lost and just hunting some monsters as a squad."

I snort, "That sounds stupid. Like that's going to erase the problem as Garou as a whole."

"Well, they told me that Garou's not even allied with the Hero Association in the first place. He was just taken there hostage. They offered, he refused, and then they just stole him away," Saitama explains, and I cross my arms.

"I fail to see how hunting random monsters down as a squad is going to help anyone," I deadpan, tossing on a jacket. "And you still haven't answered my question. Have you finally become the god of insecurity?"

He scoffs, "No, I have this wig for another reason. But they said that they might be able to get some info from monsters as to wherever the Monster Association's full hideout is."

I hum, "Makes sense. So, come on. Tell me why you just dropped more yen than you ever would for a week to get a wig that looks like a Smart Mop."

"Oh, I'm gonna fight in this martial arts tournament! You know Bang's student, Charanko, got into the hospital, right?" He explains. I nod initially.

God, I know I hate people who are weak, but that mainly extends to like, people who are...complacent. Satisfied with being weak.

I don't like Charanko, but I respect him. It's not a lot, but I do respect him.

Wait.

Hold on a damn minute.

"Oh, no, no, no, you aren't going to this damn fighting tournament only to beat people up with a single punch!" I whirl, lecturing him. "What sort of idiot do you think you are right now?!"

"Aren't martial arts meant for fighting and stuff like that?" He shrugs. "If I can learn how people fight, I could probably beat Garou or whatever his name is."

I blink.

Very.

Very.

Slowly.

"Are you...a genuine idiot?" I slowly speak, the thought of needing to slow down for him to understand making its way into my speech. "You don't need to learn martial arts or something cause you already beat him with a single chop!"

I float up, grab his shoulders, and shake him violently, "Why would you go to a martial arts tournament if you're apparently so goddamn strong you don't even feel anything while fighting?!"

"I'm bored."

"So do something that's actually worthwhile! Fight some monsters! Find out where the Monster Association hideout is!" I insist. "Why go to a damn fighting tournament?!"

"Well," he clicks his tongue. "What if there are monsters that go there? If there are strong fighters there, that's bound to attract some monsters, right?"

I open my mouth to protest, only that he has sound logic. For once in his life.

"Fine. But I'm coming with to make sure you don't look like a goddamn dumbass the entire time."

I'm almost certain he is anyways, but I'm fine with that. Hell, sometimes, it's pretty damn funny when he messes up or somehow slips and seems really clumsy.

I wonder what it's like, to be able to be aware of literally everything around you, that much body sense, only to still slip on a banana peel.

"I don't look like a dumbass the entire time, you know," he indignantly scoffs, rolling his eyes without actually meaning it. "But this wig makes me feel like one."