jevvelrybonney
Saitama was not one usually known for compassion. At least, not in the eyes of those around him. His always carefree demeanor and seemingly selfish desires led many to believe him as some sort of heartless fraud. A despicable con artist. Even if he did do heroic acts, he only preyed on the work of others and swooped in to reap the rewards. The lives he saved didn’t matter as long as he got recognition. That was how many saw him. And he never really thought to prove them wrong.
In his own mind, he did agree with some of what they said. He wasn’t really the bleeding heart type that got sentimental over people’s misfortune. He just did what he wanted to when he wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less. So the sight of someone crying didn’t bother him.
“Hey.”
The words left his lips in his usual, laid back manner. And then, his hand found the top of her head. The fabric of her glove ruffling her hair gently as if to console her. That was right, he didn’t see himself as the sentimental type. But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t. Beneath the dopey, uncaring exterior was still a hero. Whether he himself recognized it or not was uncertain, but if someone was in pain.. If someone was in need of help, that overwhelming desire to help them always shone through. Because that’s what a hero does. And deep down, more than the fame and the money, that was what he wanted to do.
“If something’s bothering you, don’t hesitate to call on me. I’m a hero, after all. It’s times like these where I have to put my fists to good use. Besides, I haven’t met my heroic quota for the month. So no more tears, yeah?”
