1

The One with the Memory

Amid the darkness in the opulent quarters of the Fubuki group's grand leader, the total shock in the young woman's eyes was as perceivable as if it was under a clear day sky. Fubuki held up the small thin stick between her thumb and index fingers, trembling slightly as she attempted to recover herself.

It was clear. Two red lines. A positive result.

If there were anyone else happening upon the scene, they might have noticed a twenty-three-year-old woman stunned to figure out that she was with child and her unusually quiet, ethereal little sister sitting quietly in front of her. In truth, what Fubuki held delicately in her fingers was her older sister's pregnancy kit, which accordingly, were the results of the test. Indeed, the Tornado of Terror is pregnant.

"How long?" Fubuki finally managed to utter after giving herself some ample time to recover from the shock. "And…how? Why?" When her sister remained in a deadpan, arms folded over her chest and green eyes sending off bloody scorn, she could only resume her query. "Who is the father?" she said slowly, over-enunciating every word.

Tatsumaki froze—the last word played like a broken record in her powerful psychic mind, especially since she remembered nothing…and everything.

Eight weeks ago

"All right! That's the third king! Let's see who's getting fucked up soon!" Metal Bat exalted from his seat, slamming his amber beer against the frosted surface of the table. He was sandwiched between the two mountain of muscles, Puri Puri Prisoner and Superalloy Darkshine, who each seemed to have chosen a non-alcoholic beverage of choice.

A few weeks since the destruction of the notorious Monsters' Association, the Hero Association wished to thank the heroes who have shared their time and efforts by inviting them to enjoy an evening out in an exclusive luxury nightclub in City A. While most eagerly took the invitation off the associates' hands, a few were not as enthusiastic nor fanatical about the idea of going out drinking, socializing, and dancing. Nevertheless, most went anyway.

The luxury club lived up to its fame, with the interior and exterior equally as gorgeous as Amai Mask himself (rather, how he regards himself). Some of the lower classed heroes took advantage of the free-flowing drinks at the bar and the dancefloor, while the S-Class heroes, along with a few others, preferred to play drinking games in an enclosed private lounge. Metal Bat was quick to initiate a game of King's Cup, challenging every single soul in the room. While he was met with the usual hollering and boisterous cheering, there was also the occasional, "Meh," "I'll pass," "This is stupid." Fortunately, competitiveness and enjoyment were in a hero's nature, and after one round of pure random idiocracies and crude fun, even the most stubborn of heroes joined in.

The fifth round drew to a close when Tatsumaki chose a card, and with rotten luck, claimed a King of Spades—the fourth king. As if on cue, everyone in the room, including Child Emperor, gave their variety of surprised and amused expressions perfect for a family portrait. The emerald-eyed Esper anxiously glanced at the faces of her colleagues carefully, suppressing herself from smacking each and every one.

To the society's pages, Tatsumaki was known as the Tornado of Terror. Famed not only for being the second-ranked S-Class hero but also for being the most powerful and efficient Esper there is. She was celebrated for her heroic achievements and her string of fallen dragon threat-level monsters, but not for her extremely brash and aloof personality. With the S-Class heroes, she remains the persona expected of her, albeit she has shown a small hole of vulnerability—that of which involves how she can't hold her alcohol for damn's sake. After the happenstance in the resort, Tatsumaki promised to never drink anything with alcohol again, despite the advice from her sister to drink wine daily in small doses. Her alcohol tolerance was terribly low, and it could be that others may take advantage of her. However, any efforts from Fubuki on giving her older sister advice was, as expected, futile. Tatsumaki only believed in the existence of a linear and ordinal relationship between younger and older—less powerful and more powerful.

"Maybe, we shouldn't let her—" Child Emperor was about to suggest until a few unified voices immediately hushed him.

"Hey," a dull, sloppy voice called to her. "Aww, are you scared because of what happened last time? When…you, uh…stabbed…that pale-faced immortal guy?"

Tatsumaki blinked—she recognized that voice, especially since that man had just nonchalantly introduced himself after she had bled trying to kick his ass. Who could have imagined that this "Caped Baldy," a skimpy A-class loser, would be able to hold himself against even her more powerful attacks? And how on the bloody earth did he end up here with her and all the other S-Class heroes? Every hero within this sumptuous glass lounge was a hero recognized for their power, skill, and efficiency. Tatsumaki considered the disheveled man and his blank stare. The rest of the heroes still kept at their awkward gazing, and she could scarcely imagine what she would make of herself if she allowed this nobody to tease her like a child. She made a swift decision. "Fine. FINE! I'll take this stupid cup. I'm not scared of anything, jackass!"

Tatsumaki downed the whole drink in a single breath. Puri Puri Prisoner, one of the few who was genuinely concerned, pleaded with her to slow down. But it was too late. The deed was done. The gruesome mixture of some beer, sake, tequila, rum, and an apple juice burned her throat and leisurely flowed down to her stomach, ironically intoxicating her instantly.

"Tatsumaki, you good?" Darkshine asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Normally, the Esper would have immediately swatted away his hand and insulted him yet, conversely and unexpectedly, Tatsumaki let out an ear-piercing laugh instead. "I-It wasn't that bad! I swear, guys! Let's mix more of these—!" The various bottles that were peacefully settled on the table started floating with a green glow. The soberer members of the group had to chase and catch the bottles before they could get charged extra for the mess.

Genos glanced at his master. "I have an immense feeling that the events at the resort before might occur once again, Master. What should we do?" he asked monotonously, catching a brown bottle of sake before it hit the glass wall.

"Hm, maybe she just needs a time out. It's past her bedtime anyway. I'll send her outside," Saitama replied.

"Brilliant idea as always, Master! What would you have me do?" the cyborg asked enthusiastically, oblivious that his mentor was getting slightly intoxicated as well.

"Uh…y'know, just stay here and make sure nothing breaks. I don't want to leave paying for some unnaturally expensive shot glass."

The cyborg gave a firm nod. "Acknowledged, Master! I will do my best to ascertain that not a single glass is to hit an unforeseen surface, that not a single shard be—!"

Ignoring his supposed subordinate's incessant monologuing, the bald man clumsily made his way through the crowd of the pitiful-looking drunks, a very annoyed Child Emperor, the pokerfaced King, and a truly heroic group of sobers who attempted to cease the Esper's antics. "Ah, Saitama," Bang called out quite gleefully. "Do help us out with the situation, please. Tatsumaki is getting out of hand."

"No worries, man. I've got you covered." Grabbing the floating woman by the wrist, he dragged her outside of the glass room and into the wider open space where the music blasted rhythmic Latin dance music. If he were frank, he'd admit that the beat was pretty catchy.

"Huh? Hey, baaaldy! I wasn't done mixing the drinks!"

Saitama remembered that his hold was still latched on her small wrist. Hm, must've been the catchy music. I should ask Genos if he could find out the title of this song, he thought to himself. But I'd doubt the neighbors would like it if I play these songs. They wouldn't even let me watch the television in peace…and what's the deal with playing music this loud anyway? I can't even understand a word the guy's saying. Snapping him back to the present before his hazy mind could slip away once more was a firm grip on the hand he held the petite woman with.

Tatsumaki had this playful glint in her eyes. "Hey, baldy! Let's daaance!" Like a child begging a parent to head for the ice cream stand, she pulled Saitama towards the dancefloor where a ruckus of other heroes writhed their bodies wildly.

"I don't dance, Tatsumaki. And it's Saitama—not 'baldy.' I told you my name the last time, so stop it. You're…you're drunk, and it's past your bedtime," Saitama scolded her with a dullness in his tone that matched his eyes. "You should go home."

"I'm not going home unless you dance with me!"

"Nooo way."

"Come on!"

"No."

"Come on, shitface!"

"Pubehead."

From the clear view that permeated from the glass surfaces, Bang, King, Genos, and Puri Puri Prisoner watched as a wasted, vertically-challenged Esper attempt to drag a lesser drunk bald man garbed in a hoodie sweater to the dancefloor. While Bang and Puri Puri seemed amused, King and Genos remained readable as rocks.

"Looks like our dear Tatsumaki is finally making friends!" Puri Puri exclaimed excitedly.

"Indeed. I thought I would not live long enough to see the day," said Bang. "Let's see what happens next."

Genos let out a scowl as he folded his arms over his steel-plated chest. "I could only tell that that brat is being such a nuisance to Master Saitama. Look at her pulling him when he clearly is not interested! I would have disposed of her if only the Master permitted me to do so," he spoke indirectly to no one.

"Genos, man, you be careful with what you say now," Darkshine suddenly said, walking up from behind the group. "Tatsumaki is the second-ranked in the highest class for a reason. You wouldn't want to wind up with all your joints suddenly misplaced now, would you?"

"I assure you that would not happen again. With my new upgrades—"

"Again? So Tatsumaki actually did such to you before?"

Genos seethed. "She called Master an avocado and light bulb. That is unforgivable! Had I not measly called her a spoiled brat and dealt her with the appropriate measures, she would have been incinerated right then and there."

King regarded the little exchanges and raised an inquisitive brow. Damn, can't this guy take a joke? As Genos continued to argue with the lawfully moral Darkshine through his superfluous linguistic ability, he noticed that things between Tatsumaki and Saitama seemed to heat up—most unexpectedly and interestingly, it would seem. Typically, Tatsumaki was already like a small ball of nuclear explosives, which when triggered, can annihilate anything and anyone around her within a hundred-kilometer radius. This drunk Tatsumaki, however, seemed to be disregarding her own and the unsuspecting man's personal spaces, hovering about merely an inch away from Saitama's prosaic face. Looking even closer, the flare in her eyes didn't harbor the usual scorn and hatred she had for others but rather a more lustful and teasing one.

King smirked inwardly. Although he wasn't the only one who noticed—Bang and Puri Puri Prisoner were already talking amongst themselves that Tatsumaki should be going out more—he knew exactly where the night was going to take those two. "I think I'll head back now. It's getting pretty late," he blurted nonchalantly.

Puri Puri Prisoner and Bang seemed to agree. "Yes, I think I would do that too. Atomic Samurai and his students will be visiting tomorrow morning, and I should rise with the sun to prepare."

"Ever the gracious host, Bang," Puri Puri remarked.

With the three making their leave, the bandwagon started rolling. Metal Bat, along with the few other drunks, began sobering up with Child Emperor's own formula of anti-hangovers and gathered their belongings. The once messy band of disorganized heroes now all merrily exited the room.

"You coming, Genos?" Darkshine called over as he held a wobbly Zombieman against his shoulder to steady him. Even the poor former detective was not immune to the poison that is alcohol. Sensing that his comrade was at wit's end on deciding whether he should go ahead or wait for his master, the friendly S-class hero encouraged, "Don't worry about your friend. He'll be fine! Just send him a message that we went ahead as soon as you get to your quarters—don't we all just live in the same complex?"

Genos considered the shiny man's suggestions and ultimately decided to concur. With one last glance at the window, he gave his mentor a firm nod from afar and joined the rest. It's Master Saitama, we're talking about. No force on earth could move him. He'll be just fine.

Back with Saitama and Tatsumaki, things were going just as King predicted. The Esper suddenly wobbled from her stance and fell against Saitama's chest. Eyes half-closed but not necessarily droopy, she glanced up to face the man with a silly smile and asked if he was born with such dull features. Tired of her shit, Saitama finally lets go of the little woman and tells her to go home. The moment he released her, she headed straight for the bar and asked the strapping bartenders if they could make her a cocktail that tastes like cotton candy. Typical kid, he thought to himself as he made his way back to the lounge.

"Hey, can anyone take this kid home—" the moment he pushed open the door, he was met with the fragrance of smoke, alcohol, and a big fat nothing. The room that was earlier occupied by a group of some X-Men wannabes was now empty as everyone, including Genos, left without even thinking of telling him. Saitama felt a vein pop in his temple. Now, who in the flying fuck was going to bring the damned Tornado of Terror home?

While knowing he could just leave the woman right where she was and have her wake up in the middle of the street, he decided to be the 'better man' and bring her home himself. As an A-Class, he was never allowed to step foot inside an S-Class' private quarters, and this could be his chance just yet. At least some good would come out of this misery. Sighing, he made his way back to find the drunken devil-woman.

It wasn't difficult to persuade Tatsumaki to leave the nightclub since she really wasn't used to going out, even at her intoxicated state. Unfortunately, things weren't as smooth as the man had hoped. The plan was simple: get Tatsumaki to her quarters, then head home. In no manner or form did it involve a guard to be thrown against the wall, prevent Tatsumaki from assaulting the untouched stash of expensive fine-aged wine Fubuki sent her, and have it slippery-slope to him unzipping the back of her dress when she asked him to.

Present day

"I don't—it doesn't even matter," Tatsumaki blurted, looking away as she realized she consciously recalled the point from where memory escalated. "And I don't care. It's…it's my child, and that's that."

Fubuki sighed. "Please, sister, it's important! Whoever he is, he has every right to know. He has involved himself in this problem and has to pay for the consequences of his actions!"

"It's not a problem if you don't think of it as one." Tatsumaki folded her arms. I know Fubuki is the reasonable one now, but I could never tell her that. It's not just my fault or responsibility, it's that fucking—!

"It's Saitama's, isn't it?"

The older Esper froze. It was that darned name again. Would she still be able to lie to Fubuki about this? How could she get out of this now?

Tatsumaki released a breath she hasn't noticed she was holding. She pursed her lips in a thin line and with every hesitant muscle, turned to face her only company in this cruel, pathetic world. Fubuki met her gaze with eyes brimming with worry and concern. Typical of the weaker psychic sister. If it wasn't her foolish group that was causing her to be so weak, it was her emotions. But could Tatsumaki really put that face on at this moment? Wasn't she the one who flew all the way to her sister's house after having discovered that she was actually pregnant? Why was she so angry? What could have made her so upset? No, it wasn't Fubuki. It was the truth.

Fubuki waited for her sister to answer. She was used to these long pauses whenever they discussed serious familial matters, and having been used to such silence knew it also meant one thing: that she had struck Tatsumaki with the truth. "I knew it," Fubuki muttered, but Tatsumaki didn't even bother to glance at her. "It's…not that hard to figure out actually—I mean, you were drunk…very drunk, and he was too. Though it's rare, instances like this can happen. But…what I could not understand is how he was able to touch you or what made him touch you, because he's…decent. Maybe dumb, but decent."

"Then it's my fault," Tatsumaki said haughtily, finally looking at her sister. "And since it's my fault, he has nothing to do with it. All right? Just keep your mouth shut. I can handle this by myself!"

"Big sis, you're being unreasonable!" Fubuki argued. "You have never been pregnant, so you wouldn't know the risks that lie ahead of you. No pregnancy can properly survive without any help. And you hate mothers in general, so what makes you think you can raise that child on your own? Especially with an attitude like yours?" Her clenched fists trembled against her lap. "Maybe…maybe I should raise the baby. I'll be willing to if you'll let me. I'm used to having people around, and they could help me too—"

"No."

The younger Esper blinked. "What…? Are you saying that—"

"I'm keeping my own child, Fubuki," Tatsumaki spat. "I take responsibility for my actions. I don't want my child, who could be so full of potential, to be raised by the bunch of weak ass dillweeds you surround yourself with."

"Consider then the nature of your career! You're a full-time S-Class hero! Did you really think that your pregnancy wasn't going to affect that? You could kill the baby doing the dangerous stunts you so often do. Think about it," Fubuki contended, ignoring the insults to her group. "And what about the association? Did you really think you could hide it from them? They'll know sooner or later. Then after they figured out who the father was, they would fire him."

Tatsumaki scowled. "They're not that stupid to do that! And like I said, it's my baby and that Caped Baldy has nothing to do with it!"

"This isn't even an option for debate, Tatsumaki!" Fubuki yelled out, rising from her seat. "You will be affecting the lives of other people, whether directly or indirectly! Why do you always have to be this selfish? Didn't you come to me, asking what I think? Isn't that in itself, in a way, asking for help? The world does not revolve around you, and you need to realize that now more than ever, you're actually carrying another life inside of you!"

Tatsumaki kept her heated glare locked on Fubuki's equally unwavering eyes. "You know what? Fine." Glowing green, she rose from her seat and headed towards the exit. "Do whatever you want, Fubuki. Just…" and with piercing emerald eyes that burned through her sister's skin and into her soul, continued, "Don't tell anyone else, especially Saitama." With that, she flew out of the building and into the horizon of what would be a ceaseless and wakeful night.

Fubuki walked towards the window and looking outside, watched as the stars shone brighter when the clouds didn't interfere. If only her mind was just as clear. "Don't worry, sister," she said to herself. "You can always count on me."

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first OPM fanfic, so please do cut me some slack. Furthermore, I blame the alcohol for the mild OOC instances. In case you're wondering about the story's timing, it's a few months after the Monster's Association has been destroyed, and perhaps some weeks after Tatsumaki fought Saitama and witnessed his power first-hand.

As personal protocol mandates, I leave you a penny for your thoughts.