Steve and Natasha stood behind Fury, both of them watching Saitama. Steve's eyes held open expectation, while Natasha's gaze was more complicated. She understood Fury's intentions better, and she understood even more clearly the risks hidden behind inviting an existence like this.
Saitama swallowed the last bite of his sandwich and brushed the crumbs from his hands. He closed the flyer and stuffed it back into the dusty pocket of his uniform, then lifted his head to look at Fury's face—full of gravity and ambition.
He blinked with those trademark dead-fish eyes of his. There was no excitement, hesitation, or tension on his face—only calm.
"Oh."
That was his first response.
Then, in the same flat tone he might have used to say "The weather's pretty bad today," he very naturally added:
"No need, but thanks."
He stood up, patted the seat of his pants where there might have been dust, and gave a serious, almost polite explanation to Fury. "I don't really like that kind of… fixed rules and scheduled routines. Things are fine the way they are now."
After that, he nodded to Steve and Natasha as a greeting, and his gaze drifted past them toward the familiar big supermarket logo at the far corner of the street.
"Sorry, but if we keep talking, the supermarket really will close."
Then, under the eyes of the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., and in the slightly stunned expressions of Captain America and Black Widow, Saitama once again turned into a streak of yellow, whipping past the newsstand and vanishing toward the supermarket's discount section in the distance.
On the wind, they could clearly hear him muttering, "Hope the beef discount's still on…"
The automatic doors of the supermarket slid open with a clack, and a wave of warm air and food smells rushed out to greet him. Saitama's figure shot precisely past the racks near the entrance and headed straight for the chilled meat section.
But hanging above the meat case was a bright discount sign. On the sign that read "Last 30 Minutes! Limited-Time Special on Premium Marbled Steak," the digital timer beneath had just ticked over to exactly 19:00.
And the counter where the discount steak had been piled up… now only had a few empty trays and a sheen of grease left behind.
Saitama stopped in front of the meat case, staring at the bare discount spot without saying a word for several seconds. On his normally blank face, a faint but very real shadow of gloom seemed to settle.
Next to him, the uncle in the white coat and cut-resistant gloves at the meat counter was cleaning up. Seeing this strangely dressed, bald customer with a not-so-great expression suddenly appear, he instinctively shrank back a little.
"Uh… sir, the discount… just ended…" the uncle said cautiously.
"…Yeah, I figured."
Saitama's voice was still as flat as ever, but it sounded just a bit lower than usual. He turned around, grabbed a nearby shopping cart, and started slowly wandering through the supermarket, his eyes still roaming over all the discount tags.
On the supermarket's TV news screens, footage of the Brooklyn streets that looked like a doomsday battlefield was playing on repeat. The reporter's excited voice-over and the wail of sirens sounded especially jarring in the quiet food aisles.
"…The disaster site is absolutely devastating! The monster has been slain! Our superheroes have once again proven their determination to protect New York! Thanks to Captain America, to Black Widow, and most of all to that mysterious, unbelievably powerful yellow-clad hero…"
Saitama pushed his cart past the screens, treating the blurry glimpse of himself on the footage and that "unbelievably powerful" praise as if he hadn't seen or heard any of it.
Into his shopping cart, he tossed—quite casually—ten bags of discounted frozen dumplings and ten bags of bread.
(End of Chapter)
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