Breaking the Barrier (Saitama x Tatsumaki)

Three Words

Saitama

A long time ago, if you were to toss me, like a year or two back, in this situation, he'd feel alive. Invigorated. Like he'd finally found an enemy worth fighting, something worth beating, something that he'd actually have a chance to lose against.

But, even if he had the context in his head, I don't even know if he would end up understanding why I felt this way. Yeah, he'd get why it's important and all, but it'd be more like he was understanding the feelings of someone in a high school book you had to read, rather than someone close to you. It's like, you understand it, but you don't get it.

And I don't really know how the hell I'd survived all that time, willingly feeling like that.

All he'd probably take away would be that his girlfriend was injured, wonder how the hell he got a girlfriend, and that the monster in front of him had been responsible for her being hurt.

And he probably wouldn't even bat an eye, wouldn't understand just how much Tats would end up meaning to him.

Because hell, even though I've been with Tats for this long, and I've spent so much time with her, and I fucking see her right there, blood clearly flowing out of her right there, i just know it. I feel it. I can tell.

I still can't overstate how much she means to me, because there's no way I could ever say how much she means to me.

If you were to toss one-or-two-years-ago me into today, he'd be really goddamn disappointed when he actually got to the fight.

He'd feel his blood boiling, his heart racing, his mind going numb. That one feeling where you go completely off of instincts, realizing your true power instead of even putting your mind into the fight.

I wish I could feel that way, but the way my blood boils, the way my mind goes numb...It's not the slightest sort of satisfaction I feel. I don't feel satisfied.

Like I've only lost something from being part of this. Like I hadn't been vying for some sort of fight satisfaction for the past few years.

He'd feel this sort of anguish, this unleashed wave of emotions that he'd definitely go crazy about. The once-in-a-lifetime experience. It'd be like a kid in a candy store sort of feeling. That realization that you finally got what you wanted. That absolute joy.

I wish I could feel that way, but the way this wave of emotions is only partially familiar to me, that it's been unlocked but only now unleashed, makes me annoyed. Annoyed that, for all the times for me to experience a complete range, it's now of all times.

Like I've never realized the true worth of what feelings are until this moment. Like I hadn't gone on a whole spiritual awakening this past year-ish.

He'd feel this unusual sort of pain, something within him. The only thing he'd be certain about is that he wouldn't be able to take care of the problem externally. He wouldn't know, however, that normal meds or anti-diarrhea pills wouldn't work. He'd think he'd been poisoned with some weird snake venom that would probably give him diarrhea at best, eaten some bad Chick-Fil-A since that place is overrated anyways, or even had to eat gas station sushi.

I wish I could tell him that pain inside of him isn't pain, it's numbness. Numbness that's worse than discomfort, worse than blankness, worse than pins and needles after sitting on your foot for way too long.

Like I'd returned to that blank slate, only to feel that emptiness come back rolling at full force. Like a numbness that I'd never learned how to deal with.

I think there's only one similarity in how we'd feel, though. It wouldn't be identical, though. We'd be fighting for clearly different reasons, and be focused on completely different things.