The Painter's Blood

In A Dream

"Saitama, everyone you ever meet will want to kill you."

He had only met a witch once. She was rather cute, and actually looked to be the farthest thing from a witch he had ever seen. She had smiled at him sweetly as she read his future, her eyes closed in concentration as she gripped his hand.
"It is unavoidable. You will be a great man one day, and shall hold unfathomable power in the palm of your hand." She said, then hummed. "Battles will be fought; wars will be waged in your name. You shall fall as you rose, and shall die by the hand of the one you hold most dear."
It was not odd to dream about the end.

He watched from the crowd as a duplicate walked onto the stage, his hood obscuring his face. The crowd was evenly split, the spectators booing and swooning all at the same time. He hated all of them.
The duplicate was perfect, and it easily fooled the assassin. The masked man drove the dagger into his duplicate's chest, and the duplicate's eyes widened. A trickle of red paint ran down its lips, and red soaked its torso. It was so convincing, it almost seemed real.
Suddenly, Saitama found himself in his duplicate's place. The masked man twisted the blade that was already in his gut, looking into his eyes. He could feel himself dying. He wondered who this person could be. Certainly, it was the one who he held most dear, but he really didn't hold anyone dear. There was no one close to his heart.
Just the blade, as it sunk deeper and deeper into his flesh, which peeled like drying paint. He could feel himself dying; falling apart, billowing away into nothing.

He awoke with a start, his eyes wide and his breathing laboured. When he finally calmed down, he stood and stepped out onto his balcony. The night air was cool, and much needed after such a stifling dream. He tried his best to relax, his shoulder blades crying out in pain at all of the tension. He looked down into the courtyard below, then frowned as he noticed the occasional paint bubble rising from the hedges.
He went back into his room and slipped some shoes on, not bothering to put on more than his sleepwear. He walked down the hallway, descending two flights of stairs and opening a set of double doors before reaching the courtyard. He walked into the maze, following the direction of the rising bubbles. He rounded a corner, coming to a stop in the center of the maze. Genos sat on the edge of the fountain, his fingers dancing rhythmically through the air as he produced swirling orbs of colour. He didn't seem to notice Saitama, too caught up in what he was doing to look up.
Saitama cleared his throat and Genos jumped slightly, his gears making a quick ticking sound for a moment before settling.
"Sorry, did I disturb you in some way?" Genos asked.
Saitama shook his head and sighed, moving to sit next to Genos. "No, I just couldn't sleep. What about you? Why are you awake?"
"I am always awake. Sleep is useless." Genos said, then frowned over at Saitama. "But you probably do need sleep. You arent a machine, you know."
"Yeah." Saitama said, although he didn't move from his spot on the fountain's edge. The wind blew slightly, causing a fine spray of water to mist over him. "Hey, you should get back. You'll rust."
"I don't rust." Genos said, going back to his previous activity.
"Is there anything that you DO? Besides painting, I mean." Saitama asked, leaning his head on a hand.
"I've never done anything else, no." Genos said. He looked up after a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. "Perhaps that is why I'm not very good at getting proportions right. I haven't exactly spent enough time with people to get a good idea of how things work."
"What are you saying?" Saitama asked, then tensed when Genos placed a hand on his shoulder.
"If you would allow me... I'd like to feel the way your body moves as closely as possible."

Genos didn't think someone could be so red. His eyes widened at the vibrant colour across the Count's cheeks, quickly moving his hand away from Saitama's shoulder. "I apologise.  Did I say something upsetting?"
Saitama was silent for a moment, then frowned. "Did no one ever teach you not to say things like that?"
"What do you mean? What did I say things like?" Genos asked, tilting his head slightly. He was confused, and a bit concerned that he had said something and been taken the wrong way.
"Are you kidding me? Do you not know..." Saitama let out a huff, placing a hand in his forehead. "This conversation has been tiring. Thanks for exhausting me enough to go back to sleep Genos."
Genos watched as Saitama left, still just as confused as he had been when the Count had first turned so red.

The next day, Genos went to the stables to visit Mumen. He was still curious about what he had said wrong last night, and the question had been turning around and round in his head all night. When Mumen saw him, he greeted him warmly and held out his hand. Genos took it and exchanged pleasantries, something he was still learning to do since coming to the palace.
After getting the small talk over with, Genos filled Mumen in on the events of the previous night, asking what he had said wrong. Mumen's cheeks turned rosy at the phrasing Genos used, and the man cleared his throat before answering his question.
"You see, it sounded as if you were propositioning him." Mumen said, and Genos frowned.
"I dont understand what you mean." He said, his mind drawing a blank. Mumen's eyes widened slightly and he bit his lip.
"Really? Have you never talked about that kind of thing with your par- um... your creator?" Mumen asked, a bit awkward.
Genos shook his head, frowning and crossing his arms. "What kind of thing?"
Mumen sighed and looked away. "Look, it's best if you go ask your creator. It's way too awkward to ask another guy."
After a moment, Genos nodded. "Alright. I'll remember to do that later. For now, is there anything I can assist you with? I'm trying to find time to study the human body and how it moves."
"Theres plenty that you can help with." Mumen said, not bothering to mention the unintentional double meaning in Genos' words. He was just glad that the subject had changed, content to show Genos the proper way to groom a horse.

"It is unavoidable.
Unavoidable, Saitama."

Saitama looked out the window of his study, the quill in his hand bleeding ink carelessly across his parchment. There were documents to be signed for various city affairs; bridges to be built, trade to be regulated, treaties to sign.
Still, the words would not leave him.
His dream lingered in his mind.

//1183 words.
//has it really been over a year?! Jeez, y'all. Be more demanding!
//*also, note to self to be more active*