"Understood, Master Saitama!"
Genos nodded and lowered his hand, sitting up straight. "Here is the situation. The ingredients I ordered online this afternoon have already been delivered downstairs by refrigerated transport. Please allow me to bring them up as ingredients for tonight's banquet."
"A... banquet?"
Saitama pictured a grand scene filled with guests, a table laden with exquisite delicacies, and smartly suited waiters darting around him. He couldn't help shaking his head to drive the image out of his mind.
"It's just a meal with friends, nothing as formal as you're making it sound, Genos." Halfway through his explanation, Saitama realized he was probably wasting his breath and stopped, saying instead, "...Never mind. Thanks for the effort!"
Genos sprang nimbly to his feet with a swish and bowed to the three people present. "Yes, I'll head downstairs right away!"
Boom-
A violent gust threw up the balcony curtains. The next moment, Genos had vanished from the living room.
A bead of cold sweat hung on Saitama's forehead. He couldn't help walking onto the balcony and leaning out to look down.
He saw a red-and-black delivery truck parked downstairs. Genos had turned into a super mover, neatly stacking its boxes on the ground.
He moved so fast he left afterimages.
The truck driver had never seen anything like it. Holding his checklist, he stood rooted to the spot, dumbfounded.
He stared blankly at Genos's one-man show, unable to lend a hand at all.
The absurd, inexplicably hot-blooded scene made the corner of Saitama's eye twitch. He couldn't help remarking, "He really gets things done in a flash, that Genos..."
"You don't understand." Josen also came onto the balcony and patted his shoulder. "That's youth!"
Saitama's face darkened, and he couldn't help protesting, "...Please don't talk like some middle-aged man. I'm only