If there was one thing more destructive than a serious punch, it was the YouTube comments section.
Genos stood perfectly still in the kitchen, staring at his laptop screen. His fans were spinning so fast he was generating lift.
USER: xX_DeathGamer_Xx: "Why is the Demon Cyborg baking cookies? Doesn't he have a city to burn?"
USER: TastyMasty99: "That soufflé looks dry. Just like his personality."
"Unacceptable," Genos whispered. "The soufflé had a moisture content of exactly 42%. It was scientifically flawless."
"Genos," Saitama called from the living room, where he was stacking empty manga volumes into a tower. "You're venting steam again. Are you broken?"
"Sensei, the digital populace questions my culinary integrity," Genos turned, his eyes glowing with offended pride. "They claim my cooking lacks 'soul'. I must rectify this. I will execute the ultimate culinary operation."
Saitama placed the last manga on top of the wobbly tower. "Cooking? Sure. As long as you don't use the flamethrower. Last time you made 'toast,' the fire department sent a bill."
"I have learned restraint," Genos promised. "This will be a delicate operation."
The mission: S-Class Curry Night.
The location: The Saitama Residence.
The objective: Cook a meal so undeniable that even the internet trolls would be silenced (or melted by pure flavor).
The Guests:
Saitama (Tester)
Fubuki (The Judge)
Tatsumaki (The Critic/Glutton in denial)
Bang (Bringing the meat)
King (Bringing the appetite)
Genos stood in front of the ingredients. He wasn't wearing his apron today. He had engaged his Culinary Combat Mode Chassis. His fingers had swapped out for specialized attachments: a whisk, a julienne slicer, a tenderizer mallet, and a precision-tip spice injector.
"Beginning sequence," Genos announced to the camera setup.
He moved.
To the naked eye, it was a blur. Carrots were diced into 1mm cubes in mid-air. Onions were vaporized—not by heat, but by a precise laser cut that removed the chemical that causes tears.
SLICE. DICE. SAUTÉ.
Bang arrived with a massive cooler. "Saitama-boy! I brought the boar meat from the Dojo's hunting grounds. It's tough as old boots, but full of spirit."
"Spirit is irrelevant," Genos grabbed the meat. His mallet arm activated. RAT-A-TAT-TAT. "The protein matrix has been disrupted. The meat is now tender."
Tatsumaki floated in through the window, carrying a bottle of wine worth more than the entire building. "This better be edible, Tin Can. I skipped lunch."
"Lunch is for the weak," Fubuki muttered, already sitting at the table, wearing Saitama's hoodie again.
The Curry Simmered.
The smell wafting from the pot wasn't just food. It was chemical warfare of the delicious kind.
"Sensors indicate aroma dispersal radius: 4 blocks," Genos reported. "Local dog population is aggregating outside."
"The broth is thick," Bang observed, peering into the pot. "What's the secret ingredient?"
Genos paused. His core glowed ominously.
"Love," he said.
Silence.
Saitama looked up from his manga. "You downloaded a 'Love' driver?"
"Negative. I analyzed the chemical composition of 'Love' based on romantic literature and neurochemistry," Genos explained seriously. "It is a mixture of serotonin-boosting spices, comfort-inducing carbohydrates, and a proprietary blend of... highly caffeinated chocolate."
"Chocolate in curry?" Tatsumaki made a face. "Disgusting."
"Trust the process," Genos commanded. "Dinner is served."
They sat around the table.
King's hands were shaking. He was terrified. What if it was spicy? The King Engine couldn't handle spice.
Genos ladled the thick, dark curry onto steaming rice.
"Please consume."
Saitama took the first bite.
The room watched.
Saitama chewed. He stopped chewing. His eyes widened.
"This is..." Saitama whispered.
Tatsumaki squinted. "What? Is it poison?"
Saitama grabbed the pot. "MINE."
"Wait!" Fubuki yelled. "Share!"
She took a bite. Her eyes rolled back. "Oh my god. It tastes like... warmth. Like a hug."
Bang ate a spoonful. Tears streamed down his rugged face. "It tastes like the days of my youth! Before my knees started clicking!"
Tatsumaki sniffed hers suspiciously. She took a tiny nibble.
She froze. The spoon fell from her hand. Her psychic aura flared pink.
"It's... it's not bad," she muttered, turning red. Then she shoveled three massive spoonfuls into her mouth when she thought no one was looking.
Even King ate it. It wasn't spicy. It was perfect. The "King Engine" slowed to a contented purr.
Genos stood by the stove, monitoring the satisfaction levels.
"Data confirm success," he stated. "Happiness quotient at 100%."
But he wasn't looking at the camera anymore. He was looking at his Sensei, who was currently fighting Tatsumaki for the last piece of boar meat.
"Sensei," Genos asked. "Is it acceptable?"
Saitama looked up, sauce on his chin. He gave a thumbs up.
"It's the best thing I've ever eaten," Saitama said. "Even better than the sale beef."
Genos's core glowed brighter than it ever had in battle. He didn't need YouTube views. He didn't need comments.
He had validation.
That night, as the team lay in food comas around the living room, Genos quietly uploaded the video.
Title: Cooking with the Master: S-Class Curry.
Description: Recipe enclosed. Secret ingredient: Devotion.
Within an hour, it had 10 million views.
The top comment was from User: Blast_From_The_Past: Looks delicious. Might have to come visit sooner than planned.
Saitama slept on the floor, drooling slightly. Fubuki had fallen asleep leaning against him. Tatsumaki was levitating a foot off the ground, snoozing mid-air.
Genos plugged himself into the wall charger. He looked at this strange, dysfunctional family.
"Objective complete," the cyborg whispered.
He closed his eyes. His internal fans whirred a soft lullaby.
And outside, under the moonlight, the city slept peacefully, guarded not by a monster or a god, but by a group of people who just really, really liked a good meal.