The Painter's Blood

The Fool

He'd always had an affinity for life, even when he'd been dealt a bad hand. He desired meaning. He searched for purpose.

Often times, he found none.

If life on the streets had taught him one thing, it was that you had to search for everything. Food, shelter, water that was a little clearer than the rest; but most of all, good people.
In a world where he was unwanted, life was tough.

Saitama was resourceful though.

It had been this resourcefulness that had landed him on the throne to begin with. He'd happened upon a wealthy man assaulting a poor family, and had reacted the only way he'd really known how.

A trail of bodies wasn't something he was very proud of... But the sight of the woman sobbing her thanks to him had struck a chord in him. The boy he'd saved from whatever ill fate the noble had in store for him pulled at his heartstrings, lying there bleeding out.

It was a curse he'd never wish on his greatest enemy.

Sometimes, he wondered if he'd made the right decision.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Mumen smiled at him as he walked into the stable, waving in greeting.
"Good morning, my Lord! What brings you here so early?"

"Please, just Saitama." He said, for probably the thousandth time. "I'm just checking in on things."
Mumen nodded, continuing his rounds of feeding and grooming the horses. He was very good at what he did, despite not knowing how to ride. After a moment of silence, he spoke up. "Is it about my fever last night? I assure you, I'm fine."

"No. I'm actually wondering... The cook said that someone broke into the pantry last night and ate a good portion of the meat. Do you know anything about that?" Saitama asked casually.
"Ah... I don't, my Lord."

"Still just Saitama." The Count reminded him, glancing down at the brunette's features as he worked. He clasped his hands behind his back, frowning slightly. "You have blood beneath your nails, Mumen."

The stable hand stilled, glancing up at Saitama from his stooped position before standing and taking a step back. "I apologise! I... I don't know what came over me! I was just so hungry suddenly, and I don't remember even going-"
"You should've told me it got worse." Saitama interrupted sternly.

Mumen looked down at the ground, shuffling his boots. "I know. I promise I'll tell you if I feel that way again."
"Good." Saitama said, then frowned slightly and put a hand on Mumen's shoulder. "You know I'm just looking out for you, right? I know how upset you'd be if you hurt one of the horses, let alone someone else."

Mumen nodded, blinking back the tears that rose to his eyes.

Saitama felt guilty for the things he had to remind Mumen of. He knew that it was his fault.

It was times like these that he regretted his actions what seemed so long ago.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Mumen had been poor, as a young boy.

He'd lived on a little farm with his mother and younger brother, and on the rare occasion that they could afford it, they sent letters to his elder sister. He'd always envied her, before he'd known why she'd been whisked away to the palace.
His mother had always told him she'd been married to a handsome prince who had taken her from such an awful place. The truth only made sense, once he'd discovered it. After all, had his sister really married a handsome prince, they would probably not be living so awfully.

You see... The Count liked his women young.

He had quite a gaggle of pretty ladies to serve his every need, and when he'd spotted Mumen's sister on a visit to their shabby district, he'd absolutely had to have her.
In return, he'd so graciously allowed their mother to keep the farm, despite the fact that she was a woman.

Like most people in Northumbra, he grew to despise the Count. As taxes were raised and famine struck the families less fortunate than his own; as his childhood friend succumbed to starvation, and his neighbour's son failed to return from the warfront, loathing grew where once there was only light.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Trouble struck swiftly and unexpectedly, as it usually did.

A man in armour showed up at their doorstep, looking for his sister. Apparently, she'd run away from the palace, and he was to meet her here. His name was Suiryu, and he was a knight sent from the King's Army to assist the Count with tamping down the civil unrest.

Mumen's mother had been skeptical, and for good reason. Anyone who would serve such an awful man as the Count must also be awful too.
Mumen thought so, at least.

But then, Suiryu removed his helmet.
His mother's attitude changed immediately, and she ushered him inside. When Mumen asked what had changed so suddenly, his mother had smiled down at him.

"His is the face of a man in love. You'll understand when you're older." She said. Mumen didn't think he would.

They passed the time, recalling fond memories of his sister as his mother prepared them supper. It was a large meal, but Mumen knew she was excited to see his sister once more.

There was a knock at the door, and Suiryu stood to open it, a bright smile on his face.

Mumen didn't like to think of the blood. There had been so much.

Everything was a blur after that.

Raised voices, the thud of a body hitting the floor, his mother screaming, the sound of bones breaking and men gurgling out their final breaths.

The memories were always laced with pain, and as he braided Justice's mane, he felt pain flare up in the scar at his wrist. He didn't recall much of that day, but he was certain of two things.

That day, he had become an only child.

And Saitama had saved his life.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Loyalty was something Saitama wasn't familiar with.

The blind devotion that the people beneath him had for him- even Tornado, despite her constant attitude- irked him to no end.

Tornado had flown through the open window, making a beeline for the city without a word. His trusted Captain of the Guard, Iaian, had lifted Genos from the floor with his men's assistance, laying the automaton on a table like a broken kitchen utensil.

Saitama couldn't look away from the trail of paint that moving him had left behind; couldn't bear to look at Genos, so still and quiet on the table.

The wound had been caused by a shard of metal from the assassin's dagger. Had Saitama not shattered it-

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt a burning pain ripple across his shoulders. He needed to calm down.
He needed to relax.

Tornado would find the doctor. He knew she would. And then, the doctor would be able to fix all of this. Everything would be fine.

Still, he couldn't shake the thought that had been ringing through his head on loop.

'This is all your fault.'

//1186 words!
//Y'all like this lil servin' of background? I sure hope so!
//Lemme know what y'all think. I'm not gonna read over this before I post it, so if it's trash, I'll have to edit it later.