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“that’s one small step for man, one giant leap for-“ the astronaut is devoured in one bite, and the only evidence is one minute of static audio released to the public four decades after it happens. it is the first appearance of a monster, and for a split-second, garou feels as if jupiter itself has brought back that monster, that historic piece of flesh and blood existing purely to keep humanity within its borders. but it is only saitama.
god looks over garou, god spirals within him and god stands on a meadow with the grass and a single naked man whipped by its minuscule body movements. garou doesn’t give a single shit about the god nor the naked man, charred and sizzling a billion light years away from where he is currently standing. in fucking space.
saitama sits across from him and gestures impatiently,
“settle down, talk this out, yeah? last time i was in space i had to hold my breath and i’m not sure how long we have before we’re both screwed.” he says this with furrowed brows and a pursed mouth, but it’s also plainly visible that he’s enjoying the glow of the sunset from beyond the windows (and where did the house come from? what the fuck-) “dude, seriously.” garou sighs as he feels his new form scratching against the walls on his way down.
and they talk for a while, a cheap time-skip of outbursts and tragic childhood backstories, and explanations and justifications and means that never meet the ends. it’s still stupid as hell but maybe it does give garou a moment of reprieve; maybe saitama doesn’t approve, maybe he’s deeply disgusted by him, fuck knows, but he gets it, he fucking *gets it*. that moment in life where the entire world becomes endlessly disappointing.
this is the point where saitama butts in to scoff and lean across the table. his jaw clenches with a pop of unsightly veins as his features sharpen somewhat dramatically. “nice, we both get it. but now what? you’re gonna go back to that kid and tell him i couldn’t save you? or i end up beating your ass and try to avoid a ten-year-old until he stops giving a shit? that’s too much,” and he pauses to breathe out a big sigh, the what-am-i-fucking-doing sigh. “you’re going to have to get to the roots of your problem in your own time, but i’ll be there - to remind you you’re not the biggest guy out there, *yet*. work up to it and enjoy the time you have doing it. that’s all.”
and then he leans back.
“your get-help plan is for me to distract myself on accident? fuck you.” but garou’s smiling, sharp teeth poking into his gums, and saitama’s glancing to and away from his bloody mouth uncertainly as he gives an eye-crinkle back, like someone debating if that stranger knows that they have a hole in their tights. he doesn’t say anything. they stand up, and they leave the house, and they debate how to get back to earth without destroying two planets on the way, and they argue over the best brand of corner store ramen, and-
and garou is staring up at saitama, who stands in all his naked glory bar a single red glove. the swirling and painfully disorientating visage of jupiter looms behind him, yet his eyes more closely resemble a black void. he has something in his hand.
as garou desperately tries not to yearn for a different life, god revels within him.
one small step for man, huh.