Sunlight filtered through the cheap blinds, casting stripes across the cluttered apartment. The smell of miso soup and grilled fish drifted through the air. On the floor, tangled in a thin blanket, Saitama remained utterly still, a soft snore escaping his lips.

The counter was crowded with groceries that hadn't been there yesterday. Genos had clearly gone shopping before dawn. A notebook lay open beside the stove, filled with neat columns of what appeared to be Saitama's daily "training" observations. There was a quick scribble in the margin that read "sensei blinked 47 times today."