Chapter Text
“Genos?”
He had been completely engulfed in the task of cleaning the dishes, the sensation of the warm soapy water, the worn porcelain held carefully against the soft pads of his fingers as he worked diligently to remove the last stain.
Blinking, he looked up.
Saitama-sensei was sprawled out on top of the lone futon in what looked like it would have been an uncomfortable position for anyone else, an open manga still in his hand. He peered at him through the divide.
“Sensei?”
“Have you ever wanted to have kids?”
His hands stopped moving completely.
“What… what brought this on?”
His boyfriend - his core still pulsed at the thought, even after all this time - rolled over so he could see his face more clearly, resting his chin in his hand.
“I’unno. I mean, since you lost… you know?”
Genos carefully put the plate in the drying rack. “It doesn’t matter. I no longer have the ability to....”
“But you would have liked it.”
Trust Sensei to always see right through him, he really shouldn’t be surprised any more.
“You are correct, I suppose. It would have been nice to… rebuild... some of what was lost. But I am happy, very happy, with just us. You are my world, Saitama-sensei.”
“Sap,” the other smiled, but his eyes remained thoughtful.
“What about you?”
“I dunno. Kids are fun but a lot of work... and money, y’know?”
“Sensei is very good with children.”
“You think?” Saitama was quiet for a moment, mulling it over. “I do like kids, I guess.”
He let the subject drop, picking up his manga to find the page he’d been on before. Things rolled back to their normal afternoon routine, and remained that way for the next few weeks to come.
---
"Once more? And even more dumbed down, please?"
He wasn't lying. Saitama looked completely lost. Genos took a moment to consider how he could rephrase himself in a better way.
"Doctor Kuseno has helped develop an advanced form of machine learning which mimics the human mind to a previously unheard of degree."
"Fancy AI. Gotcha."
"It learns by observing, replicating, testing, working for rewards... much like you and I would."
"Cool."
"Yes, it is very 'cool'," the old scientist agreed as he stepped back into the room and up to what looked like an oversized computer tower with an attached keyboard and a small screen built into it. "Though I lament its current form's limitations. It could do so much more, given the opportunity!” He gave the tower a gentle pat on the side.
"What do you mean, Doc?" Saitama threatened to go back to his completely lost state again. It was very hard to believe that what looked mostly like an oversized regular old computer could contain anything remotely resembling a… mind. If anything, it was kind of creepy to think that there was something capable of thinking inside that machine. How would that even work..? Genos had tried to explain it several times but he still wasn’t sure he had grasped it all.
"It is a highly advanced system and as such, it needs the tools to properly investigate the world around it to develop its abilities further. Senses, movement, speech..."
"Woah woah woah. So like, a body?"
"Exactly."
"Creepy," Saitama muttered, eyeing the tower warily. "How do you know it won't like, turn on you? That's what happens in every AI movie ever."
Kuseno smiled at him. "It is not that advanced. Not yet, anyway. It would be more comparable to a newborn baby, completely new to everything the world has to offer. A blank slate... It would need to learn to move, to understand speech, to interact with the world and the people in it in order to grow... just like a child."
"Oh." Something clicked deep in Saitama's mind. "...Oh."
He shot Genos a glance, vaguely remembering a talk they had had a while ago. The longing look in Genos’ eyes back then had kinda stuck with him since that evening, otherwise he’d probably forgotten about the whole thing already.
Right now, the cyborg's face was a perfectly expressionless mask, arms hanging limp by his side, breaths calm and even. In other words, he was completely worked up inside.
"Genos?"
"Sensei... doctor Kuseno has asked me if you and I... if we would like to help him. With this project."
"Hum..."
"And I mean it," Kuseno added, taking a seat on a worn office chair next to where Saitama was already seated, arms lazily crossed over his chest. "It would be a big responsibility, I won't lie... but I could not safely contain it here in the laboratory, were I to give it a body. The poor thing would be in near constant danger around the laboratory equipment, it is certainly not a child-proof area by any stretch... Nor do I have the time - or energy! - to deal with a young learning mind all on my own. Dealing with Genos during the last half of his teenage years was more than enough for me,” he smiled ruefully.
"But we're pretty busy too. And we often get involved in dangerous stuff, you know?"
Saitama fiddled with a frayed edge of his cape, an old nervous habit. He wasn’t… completely against the idea of helping Kuseno out - he certainly owed him, more than he could ever repay, for all his work on - with - Genos, but it was still a weird and alien idea, this whole thing… that was an awful lot of responsibility, wasn’t it? What if they messed up, got it hurt...
"It could be put into rest mode, should you need to leave it for a period of time. Or you could teach it a task to complete when it's left on its own, so it would be kept occupied until your return."
"So basically it'd be like... like a robot baby? Except better at taking care of itself?"
"Correct."
“It wouldn’t need diaper changes, right?”
“Certainly not.”
"And how much would it cost us to keep this thing? And for how long, exactly?"
"I would of course cover any costs that might crop up, with extra funds for any unexpected expenses. And only for as long as you wish to."
"It kind of sounds like a lot of work... Genos, do you think...?"
Genos was almost completely successful at retaining that passive expression as he turned to look at him, but Saitama knew him too well. He wanted this, he could tell. And, well… in a way this was probably their closest chance at ever having a… it really was kind of weird, but Kuseno had said they could back out if they wanted in case it didn’t work out...
Saitama swallowed. “Okay.”
"'Okay', Saitama-kun?" Kuseno asked, raising one eyebrow.
"Okay. Let's do it."
Genos beamed at him. “I love you!”
”...you too, dude.”
----
"Sensei?"
"Yeah?" he grabbed the remote to turn down the volume, though he didn't move his eyes from the TV screen. They were almost at the best part of the movie.
"Kuseno has put in a request."
"Kay?"
"To study the project’s learning prowess more accurately, he would like to give it varying attributes which would affect the potential outcomes in any presented situation.”
“Uh?”
“Different personality traits, Sensei. To see how it would affect their learning.”
“Wait, wait…” this time he did turn to look at the other. Genos was still holding onto his phone after his recent talk with Kuseno, face calm. “‘Their’? How many exactly are we talking about here?”
“He did not specify, but I assume no more than a few. Doctor Kuseno has assured me he will not equip us with more than we can handle.”
He glanced back at the TV. The fight was just about to reach the most intense part, both fighters charging up for their next attack.
“That’s cool, I guess.”
---
“Genos. This is not ‘a few”, this is… how many?” He felt a single drop of sweat running down his temple as he looked down at the… the herd of fun-sized robots half-hidden behind Kuseno, peering up at him and Genos with glowing yellow eyes. “And why do they all look like you?” For crying out loud, they even had large G:s on their little shirts!
“Simple practicality.” Kuseno assured him. “I have ample access to this particular kind of synthetic hair fibre and eye design.”
“So you used like… Genos’ spare parts?”
“You could say that, I suppose” Kuseno smiled, patting one of the bots on the head. The blond hair stood up again as soon as he returned his hand to his pocket. The word “dandelion” idly flew through Saitama’s mind.
Carefully he leaned down to study the closest bot more carefully. It was strange to see those characteristic gold-on-black eyes looking up at him, but without the affection, the fierce devotion or the… intelligence. It was more like looking at a lost puppy or something. “I never realized this is how puffy your hair would look without styling.”
Genos gave him a quick sideways glance, not bothering to even acknowledge that with a comment. “There’s… eight of them, Doctor?”
“Ah, yes… I might have gotten slightly carried away” the scientist admitted, ignoring the low mutter of ‘ya think?’ from Saitama. “Each of them have their own distinct personality, which will affect how they see the world and what they learn from it. It is going to be incredibly fascinating to see their progress. Genos will report back regularly to me and you can of course call whenever you have a question.”
“Wait… do they… do they eat? Sleep? What do we do with them?”
Saitama couldn’t quite keep the panic out of his voice. He had expected… he wasn’t sure what really, but at first it had just been talk about one robot tagging along to observe them or whatever - and there had never been any mention of it looking just like a kid version of his boyfriend - and suddenly there were eight mini-Genoses and how in the world would this even work… this was so much responsibility, how would they even fit inside their tiny apartment...
He was so busy having a minor inner crisis that he didn’t even register Genos kneeling next to one of the robots, extending his own metal hand and smiling as several of the robots peered curiously at it with wide eyes, one of them extending its own, far smaller hand, stopping just before metal fingers touched.
“They do not require food to function, though you can certainly feed them if you wish, I’m sure they would like that. They do require frequent idle time, especially in the beginning, to sort through everything they have observed, indeed comparable to sleep. Just treat them like you would a normal child, Saitama. I know you have a good hand with them. And these children are hardier than most, so really, don’t worry about them. Now shoo, little ones, go to them!”
Kuseno stepped to the side, pointing at the two heroes.
Saitama braced himself.
Nothing.
The bots all simply stared at Kuseno, not moving an inch.
“Ah, they do not quite understand spoken language yet…”
Genos gave a small smile and lifted the nearest robot to his chest. “They will learn.”
The bot turned its head so it could continue to look at his face at this new angle, eyes like saucers. Man, it really looked like it could have been Genos’ own kid. A robot version of a kid, but still. It was kind of cute to see them close together like that.
At seeing their sibling being held up so high, the rest of the group moved closer to Genos as well, all but attaching themselves to his legs.
“They feel safest near each other, it’s a safety precaution.”
“Right,” Saitama sighed, grabbing a handful of bots under each arm. “Time to bring home 8 tiny Genoses.”
---
The first hours at their apartment were… a little awkward. Not quite sure what they were supposed to do, Saitama simply put down his five bots on the floor as they stepped into the larger room. Genos likewise put down his trio and they quickly re-grouped together with the others, drawn to each other like magnets.
“Do you think they’re scared?” Saitama asked, frowning. He extended a red-gloved hand to the group, but they only stared at him. Much like they had during the whole trip home, none of them uttering a single peep.
“I do not think so,” Genos said, but he didn’t sound completely certain. “They are mostly acting upon pre-programmed... I suppose you could call it instinct, so far. As they gain more experience they should show more reaction to stimuli.”
“You seem to know a bit about them already?”
“Ah, well, yes. Kuseno has been developing this system for quite some time. I have interacted with it before, a few times, while I got repairs or other scheduled maintenance…”
There was that little smile again.
“It was never like this, though.”
Saitama took a deep breath, savouring the pleased look of the other’s face. They could do this. As long as Genos was there to help him, they would manage. They always did.
“Okay. So how do we like… interact with them, then?”
“Just like Kuseno explained. Treat them as you would any young child.” Carefully Genos extended his hand once more, beaming when one robot reached out its hand and put it in his. Was it the same one that had been the most forward at the lab? They all looked the same… Would they need to find a way to differentiate between them?
It was all very new and confusing… but it was hard to not feel a bit better about this whole thing when your significant other looked so… happy. Like he’d been handed a really, really valuable gift. He supposed they both had been...
“One thing though, Genos.”
“Sensei?”
“There’s no way I want 8 robot children calling me ‘sensei’. You’ll have to lay that off.”
Demon Cyborg huffed, promising nothing.
---
In the end, not knowing what else to do with them, they simply had Genos lift the most forward of the bots, carrying it around the apartment with the others following along like seven little ducklings, all intent on staying near their sibling.
“Here’s the bathroom, you won’t need to use that though… I think? Well, except for washing your hands before and after meals…”
Saitama knew they couldn’t understand him, not yet anyway - but giving them a proper introduction of their new home still felt like the right thing to do.
Following that, the group was taken to the least cluttered corner of the apartment. They stood together in their little group, looking up at their caretakers. Still completely silent and barely even blinking. Were they really as developed as Kuseno had claimed? So far it was more like talking to a… goldfish, or something. Something that was friendly enough but didn’t really respond to you interacting with it.
“It strikes me now that we haven’t prepared like… anything for them. No toys or cups or blankets or whatever. We’re pretty sucky robot parents, huh?” Saitama lamented, scratching the back of his neck.
“P-parents?”
“Yeah. I mean, basically, right? Or what would you call us?”
“Parents sounds… amazing, Sensei.”
“Hey, I told you not to call me that when they can hear you!”
---
In the end, they had the robots sit in two neat rows watching them eat dinner, a quick but filling noodle dish, neither wishing to leave them unsupervised to cook anything more time-consuming. The bots had each been given a cooked noodle of their own to investigate, which four of them were doing, looking and prodding at the offered food though not attempting to eat it. The remaining four were more intent on looking at their caretakers, ignoring the slippery noodles in their hands.
After the meal they herded the group into the bathroom, taking turns to lift them up to the sink to wash their hands.
When Saitama bent down to grab his third bot, he noticed that it was still and unmoving on the floor.
“Oy, it shut down!”
“Hm” Genos said. “I believe it’s… sleeping, to use the layman’s term.”
“So we like… wore them out, just from dinner? Well that’s good, right? Looks like this is gonna be a piece of cake after all, then!” Saitama grinned.
Together they carried the bots to the second futon, the one they hadn’t used themselves for months but had laid out previously during the day as a sort of temporary bot-bed until they could find something else.
Even before they had been put down to the futon, several of the other bots had also fallen asleep. It was kind of a cute sight, a pile of little blond robots dozing deeply curled up together like a litter of yellow-haired puppies.
“Well, congrats Genos. You’re a father of eight! How does it feel?”
“Saitama-sensei…”
Good thing he asked, because that question earned him one helluva kiss.
---
A few days into their new tasks as the caretakers of the ‘genoslings’ as Saitama liked to call them something began to happen.
The first thing they noticed was that some bots seemed more willing to explore on their own than others. Whenever put in a new situation there would always be one or two that were very curious and willing to investigate to the point of leaving their siblings behind, a couple that would stay behind in the safety of the group, with the rest falling somewhere in between.
They offered them whatever that seemed to catch their interest around the apartment - an old manga volume, a wooden spoon from the kitchen, a colourful patterned sock. The bots seemed to enjoy spending a long time investigating objects like those, feeling them over with their tiny metal fingers, holding them up to their faces to look more closely, sometimes even sniffing or nibbling at them. At times like that, it was easy to forget that their intelligence was artificial, man-made. They really were like little kids. Though fortunately without the screaming or diaper changes - a big plus.
The bots initially showed no interest in eating, but on the third day one of them cautiously bit into a piece of banana it had been given - soon thereafter devouring the whole thing. And it seemed the others would often pick up on a sibling’s discoveries, wanting to try it too after one of them had dared to do something new. They quickly depleted their stock of bananas, that day.
At first, all of the bots had seemed identical not only in looks but in how they behaved as well. About a week in, however, various varying personality traits seemed to gradually manifest themselves in tiny ways.
There was one bot in particular that seemed to have a special affinity for… excitement. Saitama thought it might have been the one that was the first to hold Genos’ hand, but he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that it seemed to get a particular glint in its eyes whenever there was a loud noise or flashing light. They’d have to keep a special eye on that one.
---
“Sensei, what are you doing?”
“Don’t call me that while they can hear you. And I’m going to read them a story. Here, put the last one right here.”
Genos lifted the remaining bot to the edge of the futon, watching curiously as Saitama sat himself down on the floor opposite of them, a children’s book in his hands.
“I got a few books down at the ol’ library. We’ll see if they like them.”
Genos nodded excitedly. “Yes! Reading is excellent for developing language skills! As always you are wise Sen-... Saitama!”
“Right?” Saitama smiled at him. “This book is about a crocodile who thinks he’s a duck, we’ll see if you like it guys… girls? Er, whatever you all are.”
“They do not have a designated gender as such, Saitama-sensei.”
“Uh, alright. So anyway, let’s see if you like this story, folks.”
In the end, Saitama ended up with not eight but nine curious listeners sitting together on the futon,
---
“That one. To the far left.”
“Yes, I see what you mean.”
Together they studied the bot closest to the television. It was but centimetres from the screen, curiously listening to the news report about a large forest fire, the bright flames all over the screen casting a faint glow in the room. The bots did not really emote, not yet anyway, but there was something distinctly… interested, in this one’s eyes. Especially compared to the other seven, which were all far more occupied with rolling around an empty toilet paper roll on the floor.
“I’m concerned with that one’s passion for fire. You should have seen the look on its face when it saw you incinerate that bug monster thing through the window.”
“Hm.”
---
In the beginning the bots required frequent naps, especially after being presented with something new or something they seemed to like a lot and that got them worked up. Genos had assured Saitama that they did not require a blanket or something soft to nap on, that the floor was perfectly good when you’re made of metal, but he would hear none of it.
And Genos had to admit, it was near magical to step into the room and see the love of his life curled up on the spare futon, a bot resting on each side of him with an additional two draped over his body as he watched TV, volume kept low as to not disturb the nappers. He looked so at home, so content. Like it was meant to be.
The remaining four bots were still playing with a handful of old flyers from the grocery store on the floor, but their sluggish movements indicated that they would soon go into idle mode as well.
As gently and quietly as he could manage, Genos wormed himself down beside Saitama with a content sigh. Three bots immediately stumbled over to him, draping themselves over his arm just as Saitama used his own to pull him closer to his chest.
“Hey Genos?” Saitama mumbled as he used his other hand to grab the remote to turn the TV off.
“Yes?”
The last bot tried to walk up to them, but stumbled to the floor just at the edge of their reach, too tired to keep going. Carefully, Saitama pulled it closer to the others. “This is pretty swell.”
“I agree, Sensei. And yet, I wish to apologize.”
“Uh, what for?”
“I feel that I forced this great responsibility upon you. You never asked for all this.”
“Don’t worry about it dude. This is… nice. I like it.”
“Truly?”
“Yep. Now stop thinking so much and relax instead.” To accentuate his words, blond bangs were swept aside so that Saitama could place a peck on his forehead.
Thank goodness for Sensei’s incredible ability to adjust to near any situation he found himself in no matter the circumstances.
It ended up being the best group nap any of them could remember in a long time.
---
Time passed and they settled into a kind of routine. At nights they split the two futons between the ten of them, usually ending up sleeping in a large pile of tangled limbs, organic and mechanical. Fortunately all of the bots were heavy sleepers.
Every morning they would take turns to attempt to brush out eight unruly mops of blond hair, with Genos also looking them over for any signs of damage or parts in need for maintenance. They all wore the same simple outfit, consisting of a child’s t-shirt and shorts, with several extra pairs available in the closet in case one of them got dirty, though that hadn’t been a concern so far.
The bots did not strictly require food, but having the kids sit and watch on empty stomachs while the adults ate was out of the question. Fortunately the bots were tiny enough that they could fit them all around the table, at least if they kept one each in their lap.
Saitama had initially been nervous about the increased grocery bill, but true to his word Kuseno had given them some extra money for exactly this scenario, though he did not like to use those funds. At least the bots didn’t require much - a tablespoon of rice, a small piece of fish or - their favourite - a slice of banana seemed to keep them more than content. They no longer hesitated to eat any food they were presented with and it was neat to notice they seemed to be developing their own likes and dislikes for different flavours. They had noticed that two bots in particular had a strong appetite, with one of them especially enjoying sweets.
Their days were not that different, from the most part. The bots tagged along and watched as they, well, mostly Genos, cleaned up around the apartment, or watched (child friendly) movies with Saitama.
They did not like to leave the apartment together, worried that the bots would miss them or get into trouble while they were alone. Fortunately the bots spent several hours of the day asleep and then it was near impossible to wake them up. They used those times to do errands or… other things, which were more difficult to take care of around eight awake (robot) children. When possible they did hero work during the naps as well, otherwise one would go and the other stay behind to make sure they wouldn’t get into trouble.
As far as Genos was concerned, this was bliss. They had something he’d never allowed himself to even dream about.
A family.
---
“We really need to decide on names for them.”
“Yes, that would be convenient.”
After a few weeks in their care, the bots’ personality quirks were becoming more and more apparent, to the point it was becoming considerably easier to differentiate between them, despite their identical looks otherwise. There was one that was the shyest of the group, one that would sit on your lap whenever allowed, one that has a serious affinity for anything shiny...
“What should we call them, though? I’ve never named anyone or anything. How did you pick your name?”
“I… thought it over. A great deal. But I’m not certain if there is a particular way you are supposed to do it when it comes to children… Do you have any names in mind?”
Saitama considered the group. They had given the bots an old soda bottle which they had filled with dry rice and then tightly screwed the cap back on. Most of the bots were curiously watching it as one of them rolled it around on the floor making noise, though two were more interested in a colourful flyer that had arrived earlier with the mail.
“I mean, in my mind I kinda recognize them by what they like or do a lot? Would that work?”
“I don’t see why not, Sensei.”
“Don’t call me sensei while they’re awake! Okay, so…” he walked over and lifted one of the bots who had been watching the bottle roll around on the floor. “This is the one who always gets really excited to eat noodles, right?”
“I think that’s the one holding the flyer?”
“Is it? Wait…”
It took a couple of days all in all, but eventually they had decided on names for almost all of the bots, mostly based on Saitama’s suggestions. The names were perhaps… unconventional, but Genos seemed content enough with them.
The last one proved a bit more difficult than the rest to find a good name for - it was the bot who was especially outgoing and curious… with a slightly worrying interest in fire. They would mull that one over just a little longer.
---
Saitama was once again sprawled out on the futon, sharing a bag of potato chips with three bots, everyone taking turns to grab a handful from the bag. Two of the bots had adopted his unconventional resting pose with limbs held out at odd angles, while the third was sitting in a perfect seiza.
The others had been in the kitchen with Genos, doing their best to help with the dishes, though that mostly consisted of spilling water and chasing bubbles.
Now they tagged along as the cyborg walked over to Saitama, apron back on its hook, chores done.
He sat himself down on the edge of the futon, two of the bots that had been with him immediately climbing onto his lap, the others curiously investigating the bag of chips.
Wordlessly, they all watched the commercials until the action movie came back on, a hero in a bright purple suit fighting goons surrounded by unmotivated explosions.
Predictably, the last unnamed bot looked up from the snacks and instead looked at the TV, small mouth open in obvious interest. Humming to himself, Saitama lightly elbowed Genos in the side.
“Dude seriously, what should we name that one?”
“Well, you suggested we name the others after they defining characteristics…”
“...or things they like, yeah. But I don’t know, I don’t think we should call it ‘Fire’ or ‘Explosion’.”
As if on cue, a bright explosion on the TV, loud enough that several of the bots looked up to peer at the screen. The fire-loving one clapped its hands - it was one of several gestures the group had started to pick up recently - then pointed its right hand at the screen in a way that appeared to imitate one of Genos’ incineration attacks.
It said nothing, but was clearly very excited.
“Hey,” Saitama whispered. “It’s smiling.”
And so it was - the first defined facial expression any of the bots had shown. It was not the last, however - within a day, all eight of the bots had started to offer little smiles at things they liked or enjoyed - but especially at their caregivers. Along with other expressions.
“Dammit Genos!”
“Sensei?”
“Call me Saitama! And seriously!” With a defeated sigh, he gave the last chocolate chip cookie to the bot standing beside him with both hands held out. “How can I say no to them when they’ve all perfected giving your puppy eyes?”
“I would actually argue that it’s your saddest face they have learnt to imitate.”
The bot gratefully took the cookie, immediately running off to another corner of the apartment when it noticed several golden eyes studying its treat curiously.
Saitama huffed. “I don’t pout like that.”
“You do, Sensei. You’re… doing it right now.”
“Am not!”
—
It was less than a day later that the last bot finally received its name. It was evening, several of the bots already asleep, curled up on the futons between their two caretakers.
A news reporter was sharing the feats of a recent battle between several A-rank heroes and a monster resembling a giant sentient ball of greasy hair. It had eventually been defeated in a fire attack, one that had proved both effective and smelly, captured in grainy video on a bystander’s phone.
One particularly interested bot was looking at the screen with large eyes, mimicking the heroes’ movements and, when the final lethal attack came, holding out both hands in front of itself and exclaiming a loud “pow!”.
Saitama drowsily looked up, looking first at the bot, then Genos. “Did it just make a sound effect?”
“It appears so.”
“Huh. Maybe we can name it that.”
“Pow..?”
At the suggested name, the bot turned around and smiled as wide as its small mouth would allow, eyes bright. It had taken several days for the others to start to respond to their names. This was a very fast reaction…
“Pow?” Saitama repeated. The bot clapped its hands again.
Two adults looking at each other, nodding in unison. “Pow it is.”
---
“Sensei!”
Saitama froze mid-step. He must have imagined it. Genos said it so often his brain must be playing tricks on him...
“Sensei!”
There it was again! He looked down at the bot standing closest to him, the rest of the gang nearby as well, watching with curious eyes. “Hey, did you just call me ‘sensei’?”
Hearing the term from himself seemed to excite all of the bots. To his horror, several of them started to repeat the word as well in light little voices.
Saitama all but ran into the kitchenette to avoid the constant stream of “Sensei!”, causing him to nearly crash into Genos’ back.
“Did you hear that?” he hissed at the one in the apron.
“Yes” Genos responded, pride in his voice. “Their first word! We will have to record this moment.”
“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sensei’ in front of them?!”
“But you are Sensei.”
Saitama turned Genos around just so he could flick him on the forehead. He grumbled, but there was no sting in his voice.
Genos ended up calling Doctor Kuseno to inform him of this noteworthy development - that the bots had reached a stage where they seemed to not only understand but also use speech for communication.
The first word was soon followed by several more, curiously similar to the development expected from a normal child. The bots learnt to say “yes” and “no” (and like in many children, ”no” seemed to heavily outweigh “yes”), they would often shout “look!” to each other, as well as to the adults, to point out things that interested them.
Most of the time their words were clearly spoken and easy to understand even at the first try, one thing that differentiated them from other children.
With one exception.
“Pop-eam! Pop-eam!”
“What?” Saitama repeated himself, scratching the side of his head. “What in the world is ‘pop-eam’?”
“Is something the matter?” Genos asked, looking into the room through the divide.
“Nah, s’just Button making up words again…”
“Pop-eam!” the bot repeated, making vague motions with his arms and drawing the attention of several other bots who all immediately started to duplicate the gesture.
“Noodle, what does Button want?” Saitama whined. Noodle was one of the more quiet bots, but a good observer.
The mentioned bot blinked twice, then ran into the kitchen, pointing towards the small freezer unit. “Pop-eam?” it proclaimed, as excited as the others.
“Oh” Saitama replied, the pieces falling into place. “Popsicle or ice cream, huh? Yeah, not before dinner. Right, Genos?”
“Correct.”
Crestfallen, both Button and Noodle resorted to the well-practiced puppy eye look, but neither caretaker budged, having grown accustomed to it. Instead, they were herded back to the other room where Flower, Pocky and Pow were busy drawing in a notebook Genos had given to them for that purpose.
Gradually, some toys and other children’s items had found a new home in their tiny apartment over the last weeks. Some they had picked up at sales or in second hand stores, others had been gifts from their friends (and explaining about the bots to everyone they knew had been quite an adventure in itself). A few came from Kuseno - usually toys especially designed to help the bots develop their learning skills further.
One bot in particular showed an interest in drawing, something they had noticed early on, earning the bot its name - “the bot with the blue pen” had soon been shortened down to simply “Blue”.
“Blue, share the crayons with your siblings” Genos chastised, moving the box back to the middle of the table. “And Punch, leave Flower alone.”
“They seem to get more and more active with each day, huh?”
“Yes. They might need to experience new stimuli to be properly worn out.”
“Are you offering to take them outside the apartment?”
“Er…” Genos swallowed, doing a well-practised mental count to make sure all eight bots were accounted for. “Perhaps if we do it together?”
“Will we need to get like… leashes? They can be pretty, y’know… intense...”
“I do not think so…”
“Are you sure?”
“...No.”
They eyed the eight bots who, noticing that they were being watched started shouting “sensei!” and the occasional “Genos!”, looking pleased and excited. It was as if they could feel something new and exciting was about to occur.
“...can’t be worse than a demon level threat, right?”
“I hope you are correct, Sensei.”
“Sensei!”
“Sensei!”
“Senseiii!”
“Oy, what have I told you all about calling me that?!”