Welts ran below his fingers like the crests of waves. Thick and thin, red and angry, they rose and fell in spider web configurations. Slowly, he traced them, fascinated by the agonizing pain they echoed, even now, long after the damage had healed. Slowly his fingers approached the valley, the crux of where the angry flesh welded into smooth, hard metal.
Genos flinched, a grimace flitting over his face before he could get back into control.
“Did it hurt?” Saitama hadn’t spoken since his fingers touched Genos’ scars, genos’ past. Would it end? Their brief moment of connection was brittle - it could snap at any moment. Even breathing seemed hard, the tension coiling between them.
Genos opened his mouth, but words failed to come. Instead, he nodded once and turned his head. It hurt. It was impossible to explain. As if pain itself was slowly clawing your soul into pieces, the solace of your mind rended into shreds as it threatened to distort your reality.
“Does it still hurt?” Saitama hadn’t lifted his fingers, still pressed at the junction of man and metal. Genos’ shoulders quivered below his touch.
“No.” the curt response hung in the air for a moment, vibrating between them. Words unspoken, the pain they both understood, “And yes. It always will. It’s... The flesh. The pain is gone, the moment is gone, but it remembers. It will always hold onto it. I will never be free from it.”
Genos looked back at the man beside him. Both stripped of clothes except their skivies, sitting so close and yet worlds apart. Angry welts of red and white stemmed from Saitama’s right leg, right above the knee. They curled around and leg straight to his hip. It wasn’t the man’s only scar - his body was littered with them, splattered across almost every inch. Some invisible, some like the leg a focal point. Unlike Genos, Saitama’s scars did not meld into metal. They remained empty.
Genos’ eyes lingered on the residual limb, his face scrunched with worry and confusion. “Doesn’t it hurt you?” Taking the younger man’s hand in his, Saitama placed the cool metal digits against the welts.
“Not much anymore. I’ve taken time to get used to it. Something that I uhm... I don’t think you got to do.” No, Genos thought, that’s true. His loss was mended with metal immediately. And now.. Touching the skin of his... whatever Saitama was now, gave him no sensations.
“Genos.” Blinking, he realized for the first time he was crying. Ugly tears rolled down his cheeks, “Genos, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’ve lost a lot, but...”
Saitama brought him into his arms, wrapping around Genos like a blanket, “We will gain so much more.”
