Weak Body, Strong Heart

I do not succ, I.....SOOK

A grey, oppressive sky hung low over Z-City, mirroring the somber mood that settled over the apartment. (Y/N) stirred awake, the silence a stark contrast to the usual morning sounds of Saitama's shuffling and grumbling.  She stretched languidly, the scent of coffee already filling the air.

Today was a slow one – only one job on the schedule, leaving her free time to dedicate to her gaming pursuits.  Humming a tune, she set about preparing breakfast, a simple affair of toasted bread, butter, and a steaming cup of coffee.  Saitama sat slumped on the couch, uncharacteristically glued to the TV news.  The flickering images showed scenes of abandoned in various parts of the city – human activity stops, a new discovery and a general sense of panic.

(Y/N) glanced up from her toast, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes.  There was talk of an "outbreak," but the details remained vague.  With a shrug, she decided to focus on her breakfast and her daily Star Rail quests.  Maybe Saitama would fill her in after the news finished.

She tapped on the screen, her brow furrowing slightly.  Ten pulls on the gacha banner, fueled by a hoard of Stellar Jades, and still no sign of Aventurine (my boi).  The sting of disappointment was familiar – the Acheron banner had yielded similar results.  Sighing, she switched to her other mobile games, hoping for better luck in Cookie Run Kingdom.  A wistful pang hit her heart as she considered Genshin Impact, a game her phone's limited storage wouldn't support.  "Ugh," she muttered, "this potato phone won't survive next year."  The dream of a  new phone with ample storage danced tantalizingly in her mind, but the current job market and her desire to be financially prudent kept it firmly out of reach.  For now, she'd have to content herself with her trusty, albeit outdated, companion.

A flicker of warmth caught (Y/N)'s eye as she glanced towards the TV stand.  There, nestled amongst the usual clutter, lay her brother's old PSP console.  A pang of nostalgia washed over her – a gift that I give  Saitama year ago.  The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, the casing dented and scratched, but it still held a certain charm.  Despite his immense power, Saitama seemed hesitant to play anything more delicate than a phone, a silent respect for the gift she'd given him.

(Y/N) finished her breakfast, leaving a portion for Saitama's return.  With a content sigh, she stepped onto the balcony, the cool morning air washing away the remnants of drowsiness.  Saitama stood by the railing, diligently watering their spiky collection of cacti.  She smiled, a warm feeling blooming in her chest.

As she slid the glass door shut, a sharp pain lanced through her lower leg.  A gasp escaped her lips, and she crumpled to the floor in a fetal position.  Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision.  Had she tripped? No, something felt wrong – like a sting, a burning sensation.

Fighting through the haze of pain, (Y/N) peeked at her leg.  A deep red welt marred her skin, angry and inflamed.  Her breath hitched.  That's going to leave a mark.  But knowing her own resilience, she managed a shaky laugh.  "Ouch," she muttered, "that really packed a punch."  Even with the throbbing pain, a glimmer of determination flickered in her eyes.  She may not be a hero, but a little sting wouldn't take her down.

A groan escaped Saitama's lips as (Y/N) crumpled to the floor.  He whipped his head around, concern etched on his face.  "Whoa, (Y/N), you okay?"

Before she could reply, he swatted at the air with a frustrated growl.  "Damn mosquito!"  He cursed under his breath, his attempts to crush the tiny pest proving futile.

(Y/N), fueled by a potent mix of pain and righteous indignation, shot him a glare.  Ignoring his apologies, she marched towards the kitchen cabinet, her movements punctuated by a slight limp.  With a flourish, she retrieved the fly swatter.