The moment Gwen and Cindy stepped into Saitama's apartment, they were hit with the unmistakable scent of... instant noodles and floor cleaner.
The place was simple.
Painfully simple. White walls, faded tatami mats, a low table surrounded by mismatched cushions, and a corner stacked with hero merch, bargain-bin DVDs, and game controllers tangled like spaghetti.
The TV was slightly crooked on the stand, and beside it sat a dusty old PlayStation with one cracked controller and a brand-new one, still in its box, half-hidden behind a stack of manga.
"...This is somehow exactly what I expected," Cindy said, dropping her arms to her sides in disbelief.
Gwen blinked at a plastic bag taped over a crack in the window. "Is this... aesthetic or poverty?"
Saitama kicked off his slippers and flopped onto the nearest cushion like a ragdoll dropped by a toddler. "It's home. Got used to it."
He reached over to the console and tapped it on. The TV flickered to life with a low electronic hum, revealing the main screen of an old 2D fighting game.
Japanese characters danced across the screen as a looping battle theme kicked in.
"You play?" he asked without looking up.
Gwen raised a brow. "Uh... yeah, a little."
Cindy grinned. "She's decent. Gets real competitive though. I, however, am a natural prodigy."
Saitama reached under the table and handed them both controllers, one was wrapped in electrical tape, the other the newer one, still pristine.
"You two can fight it out. Loser does push-ups."
Gwen smirked. "You're on."
They plopped down onto the floor around the table. The room glowed with soft TV light, and for a moment, things just... felt normal.
Gwen adjusted her hoodie sleeves, eyes narrowing as she scrolled through the character list.
Cindy picked a giant dude with a mohawk and glowing fists. Gwen picked a fast, hooded ninja-type.
They went all in.
"Stop button-mashing!" Gwen shouted.
"I'm tactically pressing everything!" Cindy barked back.
Saitama leaned back against the wall, sipping from a juice box he pulled out of nowhere, expression blank and completely unfazed by the pixelated chaos erupting in front of him.
"Left, left, B. No, B. Not..." Cindy shrieked as her character flew off the screen.
"Victory!" Gwen raised her arms in triumph, controller in the air. "That's five in a row. Push-ups, Silk."
Cindy groaned and dropped to the floor, knocking out a set of exaggerated, dramatic push-ups, grunting like she was being crushed by gravity.
"...This is starting to feel like gym class," she wheezed.
"Should've picked the ninja girl," Saitama said, still sipping.
They kept playing. Gwen eventually handed her controller to Saitama and challenged him directly.
It was a massacre.
He didn't even look like he was trying. Just gently flicking the joystick with thumb twitches, eyes half-lidded, knocking her out in under twenty seconds.
"How are you this good?"
"Played it a lot when I was unemployed, with that one guy having a big asf scar on his face" he replied.
Cindy flopped over sideways. "This guy's like an anime character without the dramatic monologue."
Saitama yawned. "I don't really do those."
The night stretched out in peaceful chaos, trash talk, juice boxes, game overs, and occasional debates over which superhero movies were actually good.
The air was easy. Simple. No world-ending threats. No rooftop chases. Just three people who were weirdly comfortable being weird together.
Gwen caught herself smiling again as she glanced at Saitama, who was now complaining about DLC prices with a level of seriousness that rivaled UN meetings.
Cindy nudged her with an elbow and whispered, "You're doing it again."
"What?"
"That tiny smirk thing. You're so into him."
Gwen rolled her eyes but didn't deny it this time.
"He's chill, this place is weird and chill, i just like it that way"
"Sure~"
Eventually, hours later, Cindy was sprawled on the floor using a throw pillow as a blanket, half-asleep and mumbling about ramen-flavored toothpaste.
Gwen was sitting near the window, legs crossed, watching the strange, out-of-place skyline beyond the glass.
Saitama was just quietly fixing the crooked curtain rod.
"... You know," Gwen said softly, "this place... doesn't feel like it belongs here. But at the same time, it kinda does."
Saitama looked over. "Yeah. That's how I feel too."
They both fell silent for a moment, letting the calm sit between them.
Then Gwen added, "You really don't care about any of this weird stuff happening, do you?"
He shrugged. "It's just Tuesday."
She laughed quietly. "You keep saying that."
He looked at her. "That's because I mean it."
...
Saitama blinked awake to the sound of snoring. Not his. Definitely not.
The ceiling looked the same. Slightly water-stained from an old leak. Still holding strong. He slowly sat up on his futon, scratching his head and glancing across the room.
Cindy was half-wrapped in a thin blanket on the floor like a burrito in distress, hair a tangled mess, one leg sticking out from under the fabric like a rogue sock puppet.
Gwen was curled on the couch, hoodie over her face, arms crossed like she was defending her sleep from intruders.
A juice box lay suspiciously close to her hand.
Saitama blinked again, stood up, and shuffled into the kitchen. The sound of the fridge door opening was followed by the pop of a milk carton opening and then... silence.
Until Gwen groaned. "Why does your fridge sound like a depressed dog?"
"It's old," Saitama replied flatly.
Cindy groaned louder. "My spine has committed betrayal."
"You slept on three cushions and a rug."
"Yeah."
The morning was slow and lazy. Saitama made instant miso soup and tossed some toast on a hot plate.
Gwen poked at the toast suspiciously. Cindy stared at the soup like it had threatened her family.
"You don't have, like... eggs or anything?" Gwen asked.
"I had some," Saitama said.
"...Had?"
"I dropped them yesterday. Floor took them."
Gwen muttered something about tragic loss. Cindy just slurped the soup and winced.
"It's hot," she hissed.
"It's soup," he said.
After breakfast, if it could be called that, Gwen decided she needed fresh air and possibly sugar.
Saitama was already halfway into a hoodie and slipping on his sandals when she mentioned going out. Cindy followed, dragging her feet like she'd run ten marathons.
"You always this active in the morning?" Gwen asked.
"Only when the neighbors aren't yelling," he replied, stepping out into the overcast light.
The city was still strange. Abandoned in places that shouldn't be. Broken streetlights. Signs in English that he could now read perfectly, even though he didn't speak English yesterday.
There were cracks in the reality he'd noticed, but not really questioned.
"Hey, you guys noticed the air feels... lighter?" Cindy said, eyes narrowing as she sniffed the breeze. "Like... not normal city-smog gross. But like fake-fresh. Filtered."
"It's been like that since I got here," Saitama muttered, stopping in front of a vending machine.
He stared at it. It stared back.
Gwen tilted her head. "Something wrong?"
"I don't have coins," he said.
"You're a superhero."
"...Yeah, but the vending machine doesn't care."
Cindy handed him a quarter. "Go wild, king."
He bought a grape soda.
It hissed open like a reward screen from a low-budget mobile game. The three of them wandered slowly down the sidewalk, passing empty storefronts and occasional flickers of static lights.
Like the city had been put in sleep mode but forgot to tell the clock to stop ticking.
Gwen finally broke the silence. "So... about yesterday. That thing you did. With Rhino."
Saitama glanced over, nonchalant. "What about it?"
"You didn't even try. One punch. Knocked him out like he was made of Play-Doh."
He sipped. "That's usually how it goes."
"Yeah, but that's Rhino. Peter and Miles were setting up traps. I was swinging around like a maniac. And you just walked up and—" she mimed a lazy punch. "—poof."
"I didn't know he was important."
Cindy laughed. "That's the best part. You don't even care. I love it."
"But like," Gwen continued, narrowing her eyes, "how strong are you?"
Saitama took another sip. "Strong enough."
"Which means?"
He paused. Thought for a second. Then shrugged.
"I don't know. I haven't found anything that didn't go down in one hit."
That silenced the girls for a beat. Then Cindy leaned toward Gwen and whispered, "What if he's, like, a god?"
"He eats toast with salt and dropped his eggs on the floor. I think we're fine."
"I'm just saying, maybe he's like some... shaved-head Superman that shops at dollar stores."
Gwen chuckled. "So, your type?"
"Shut up."
They kept walking, slow and aimless, like they had nowhere urgent to be. The streets were quiet. No monsters. No chaos. Just three people in a city that didn't quite belong to any world they knew.
And somehow, that was okay.
...
Later that afternoon, the trio made their way back to Saitama's place.
No monsters. No robberies. No multiversal portals ripping open. Just quiet.
The oddest thing was how normal it felt. And for Gwen and Cindy, normal was a vacation.
When they stepped into his apartment, the scent of instant ramen and old floor polish hit them like a warm, slightly tragic hug.
Saitama kicked off his sandals and headed straight to his game console.
The TV flickered on, loading up the familiar menu of "Justice Man: Ultimate Slam 2." He slumped into his usual spot on the floor, controller in hand, like it was any other afternoon.
Cindy dropped onto the couch face-first.
Gwen hovered awkwardly in the entryway, arms crossed. "Hey, uh... Saitama?"
"Hm?"
"You got... like... any rules about guests?"
He glanced back, mildly confused. "Don't break anything?"
She opened her mouth, then paused. "Okay, fair. But I meant more like... if people stay over?"
Now he turned fully, controller dangling from his hand. "You guys need a place?"
Cindy's voice rose from the couch cushions. "Temporary. Just temporary. Until we figure out what the hell is going on with this place."
Saitama blinked once, then gave the kind of shrug that came from a life of pure apathy. "Sure. Got floor space."
"That's it?" Gwen asked.
"Yeah. Got hot water too, I think. And the microwave works. Don't eat the old tofu in the back of the fridge. I think it became sentient."
"....Why haven't you thrown it out?"
"I'm waiting to see if it talks."
Cindy burst out laughing. "God, you are unhinged. I love it here."
She rolled over and dangled off the couch upside-down. "So, where do we sleep? I call the futon if you're not using it."
"I use it," Saitama said flatly.
"Okay, floor for me. Gwen can take the rug."
"I'm not sleeping on a rug," Gwen protested.
Saitama pointed at a small folded futon in the corner. "Got a spare. Used to be Genos's backup when he crashed here."
"Who's Genos?"
"My cyborg disciple."
"...I have so many questions."
"Don't ask," Cindy whispered.
Saitama booted up the game again and held out a controller. "You guys play?"
Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Justice Man? That cheesy superhero fighting game?"
"I like the sound effects," he said, dead serious.
The next hour turned into a mini tournament of increasingly chaotic button-mashing and shouty commentary.
Cindy turned out to be a brutal combo spammer. Gwen played like she was auditioning for a stealth mission.
Saitama? He just picked the default character and still somehow won half the matches with the laziest inputs.
"Stop mashing jab!" Gwen yelled.
"I'm not mashing," Saitama said. "It's strategy."
"You're tapping one button! Like a bird pecking rice!"
"I win though."
Cindy wheezed with laughter. "I haven't been this chill in months. And I fought a sentient subway train last week."
Time passed weirdly after that. The sun dipped lower. Light filtered in through the window blinds, casting quiet golden stripes across the wall. The noise faded into companionable silence.
Gwen stretched out on the spare futon, fiddling with her mask in her lap. Cindy leaned back, arms behind her head, eyes half-lidded.
Saitama stood up and headed toward the kitchen.
"Dinner?" Gwen asked hopefully.
"Nah. Gonna see if that tofu moved."
"You're gonna die one day," Cindy said, half-asleep.
"If it kills me," he replied, "it earned it."