Foret sighed as he checked his watch waiting for the bus. He was always ten
minutes early as a buffer for the bus 'early or late you can never tell' thing. Today the bus was late.

Foret spotted a man running along the sidewalk in jogging attire, his black mop of hair flouncing as usual as he moved in quick bounds.

As usual, Foret waved at the man, saying, "Good morning."

The man, like usual, was too out of breath to reply with his voice, so he just waved as he came to a stop. His face was streaked with sweat, and his t-shirt soaked with the same liquid. He was a mess, his hands on his knees, catching a well needed breath.

The brown haired Foret handed the black haired man a water bottle and the tired man chugged it down, thanked Foret with a nod, and shot off again with renewed energy. Foret stood, waving him off with the empty bottle in his hand, just as the bus pulled by to stop. He got on the bus to go to work, like usual.

The man was named Saitama. Foret met him about a year ago after he heard about a decimated crab monster and went to check it out. Foret met him in a market both at the same booth. He struck up a conversation with Saitama and ended up paying for his groceries since Saitama himself was low on money. Ever since, they kept in touch. Foret kept Saitama's apartment in check while his friend trained to become what he dreamed to be, a hero.

Since Foret had a well paying and steady job, and he lived alone, he could keep his apartment and Saitama's places up and running with the basics....water bill and electricity. Saitama refuses Foret to pay for everything, so he doesn't pay more than half of the bills initially.

Foret supported Saitama without question. Though he wasn't very close friends with Saitama, he helped him like a coworker. He did this by standing at his bus stop, and would say 'hi' as Saitama passed, gave him the same water bottle, was given back empty with a simple 'thank you', and off Saitama would go again.

-------

Five years have past since the Crab monster, and Foret held out the same old water bottle. It was gone in a flash, in a snap it just wasn't there in his hand. It was half empty and back in his hand not a second later.

Foret didn't say anything, because the now part time hero Saitama was too fast to speak to. But even so, the shine of Saitama's bald head flashed by, the white cape billowing behind him if you were expecting it. If you weren't, you would have missed it.

The people that sat with Foret always looked at Foret weird whenever he would hold out the bottle, and it would flash, a blast of wind would whip everyone's hair around, then the bottle would be half empty. As a result, they learned to scoot away when Foret prepared to do so.

Foret checked his watch, and as if on cue, the bus came rumbling down the street. Foret got up with the others and entered the public transport, paying the fee as they passed the driver. The bus rumbled onwards, to the next routine destination. Foret would let his mind wander off as he sat near the window as he would every day, the side of his head lazily positioned against the glass, and would fidget with the end of his tie idly.

With his job as a lab assistant for a giant company, he delt with loads of paperwork everyday to take some weight off of his boss, who had a ton of conferences to run off to in short amounts of time. His schedule always full, but his boss would always make time for making sure his employees were happy.

This was a normal day for Foret. Getting off the bus nearest to City Z as the sun set. He would walk the rest of the way home, entering the small house he owned. Even though City Z wasn't the best place to live, he lived there for the quiet and sparse population. It was good for Foret, giving himself space and alone time for sleep, which he deeply loved after some yoga and video games. Though once in awhile a monster would come about down the road, and Foret had a handgun in the nightstand drawer just in case something bad were to happen.

Foret had a feeling that not having a monster incident yet, it was probably the work of Saitama and occasionally other low B, C class, and under members of the Hero Association.

He was okay with that.