Netero's Lesson

"Hmm~."

Saitama's voice remained flat, but there was something indescribable in the tail end of it. It wasn't sternness or impatience, but an emotion drifting from somewhere far away, like a sigh.

Genos fell silent.

Data continued to flash wildly in his mechanical pupils, but the training plan on the projection screen had stopped scrolling. He looked at Saitama, at the man leaning against the doorframe with a bag of cold fried dumplings in his hand and his eyes half-closed, and suddenly understood something.

The teacher knew.

The teacher knew that Gon would one day burn himself up without a second thought for Kite.

The teacher knew that no amount of training plans or advance warnings could stop him.

Because that was the kind of person Gon was—once he decided to protect someone, he simply didn't care about the cost.

Genos lowered his head, and his mechanical arm slowly withdrew the projection screen. "...Sorry. I was too impatient."

Saitama didn't respond.

He merely watched Gon in silence, watching the boy who was still trembling faintly, yet whose eyes remained bright.

Three seconds passed.

Then he said, "You'll become very strong."

His voice was so soft, like a fallen leaf, yet every word landed clearly in the training room.

"My methods aren't suited to you."

That was all he said.

He didn't waste any more words.

Gon stared blankly at him. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to say something, but Saitama had already turned away. The oily fragrance of the fried dumplings drifted from the plastic bag, filling the air for an instant before fading.

"Brother Saitama..." Gon said softly, but Saitama didn't look back.

His lazy footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing farther and softer, as if nothing had happened.

The training room fell silent.

Gon scratched