Chapter 171: The Talkative Cyborg
"Is that the boy who looks like a robot?"
Jordan looked at King with genuine appreciation. "You already sensed him? You're using the new ability instinctively already."
King was slightly embarrassed. "Not exactly. I just happened to discover a new application during the fight."
"That's still impressive."
On the hillside, Genos went from starfish to vertical in a single motion. His expression held its usual resolution, but his eyes moved across his own mechanical frame with a flicker of something less certain.
I can move.
The strange resonant interference—the frequency that had been shutting down his power core in stages—had stopped. Completely, and without announcement. He ran a rapid diagnostic. The high-energy furnace, nuclear-reactor-principle, full output restored. All systems nominal.
The drumbeat stopped.
He processed this, then processed the more immediate concern.
The monster.
Genos snapped behind the rock and looked.
The open field was empty. No monster. No ongoing battle. Two figures walking calmly toward a small manor structure on the hill's far side, and beyond them, a third dealing with something near a pond in the courtyard.
He was still running threat assessment when one of the walking figures—the taller one—looked directly at his position and waved.
...Definitely discovered.
Genos ignited his thrusters, cleared the hillside in a short arc, cut power, and let gravity handle the landing. He hit the ground with significant authority. The impact sent rubble and dust in every direction.
An invisible pressure pushed it all back to the ground before it reached the two men.
Genos stood from the crater, straightened, and bowed from the waist.
"Excuse me. Allow me to introduce myself—I am a cyborg conducting independent justice activities. My name is Genos. Please—"
"Genos, right?" Jordan wiped imaginary sweat from his forehead with the expression of someone who had narrowly avoided a lengthy formal process. He waved the concern away. "I'm Jordan, this is King. We have a third here. We've been training in the area."
He gestured toward the manor. "If you have something on your mind, join us for dinner. We can talk after."
Genos processed the invitation. Three people present. He had intended to make his request to two of them—inviting only two out of three would be impolite. The logic resolved cleanly.
He nodded, precise and definitive. "Thank you for the invitation. I'll accept."
Jordan and King exchanged a brief glance.
"It's no trouble," Jordan said. "More people makes dinner better."
King nodded alongside him. "Jordan is right."
"How come you brought back a robot?"
Saitama was reorganizing the refrigerator shelves and had one eye on the living room, where the new arrival was seated on the sofa in a posture of complete geometrical correctness, facing the television, not moving.
"Cyborg," Jordan corrected, the cleaver already a blur through premium veal—thick slices, thin slices, the expensive cut handled with the focused efficiency of someone who had been cooking for three people for weeks and had opinions about knife work. "And he's a guest. You can't call a guest something you found on the street."
"Okay, but can cyborgs eat?"
"The doctor who performed my modifications," said Genos, from directly behind Saitama, "included both taste function and the ability to convert ingested organic matter into organic fuel for efficient metabolic use."
Saitama turned around.
Genos was standing in the kitchen entry, explaining, with the natural ease of someone who had simply joined the kitchen conversation.
"—Genos. When did you get here?"
"Just now."
"I—" Saitama scratched the back of his head. "You heard everything we were saying?"
"Yes. My detection systems receive a broad range of audio and video signals."
"That's— well, that's quite rude."
"It doesn't matter." Genos's expression didn't shift. "As a cyborg, I occupy an unusual position among humans. Ordinary people not understanding machine specifications is normal. Additionally, the doctor who performed my modifications works at the absolute frontier of mechanical engineering globally. Some of the functions he developed are genuinely beyond conventional imagination. Furthermore—"
Jordan had quietly redirected his full attention to the vegetables. King, processing fruit in the courtyard pond, had developed a thoughtful interest in the peach he was holding.
I've walked into someone I shouldn't have engaged.
This person is a talker.
"—the integration of organic and mechanical systems requires constant calibration, which the doctor performs on a regular maintenance schedule. His laboratory is equipped with—"
"—Please, all three of you. Accept me as your disciples!"
The declaration landed in a pause that Genos had apparently calculated to maximum effect. His expression was completely serious. His notebook had appeared in his hands at some point, pen poised.
The four of them sat around the small courtyard table in the moonlight. Freshly brewed tea steamed in four cups. The ambient temperature of the evening was pleasant. The atmosphere was considerably less so.
King picked up his cup, accepted his role as first speaker, and cleared his throat diplomatically.
"Jordan. Saitama." He set the cup down with care. "Genos may have formed some impressions that aren't quite accurate. For my part—I've been training for just over a month. Given age alone, I might qualify as a senior, but I'm in absolutely no position to take on a disciple. That would be irresponsible."
Genos's pen was already moving. "Just over a month?" He looked up, electronic eyes recalibrating. "To reach this level in just over a month—was there a specialized accelerated methodology involved?"
The pen hovered, ready.
The three exchanged a glance.
The courtyard was very quiet. Somewhere in the near distance, a cricket had the good sense to remain silent.