"I'm taking notes on your training regimen."

That’s what Genos said when you asked what he was doing. Out of boredom, apparently. He flipped open his notebook with robotic precision, revealing an absurdly detailed sketch of you… sitting on the couch reading manga. He’d annotated it with stats, angles, energy flow diagrams, and a suspicious amount of sparkles.

Oh boy. How did things end up like this?

You were a hero. Technically. A C-class nobody with the popularity of a white crayon and zero reputation. But under that unimpressive rank and average appearance was a secret: you were the strongest being alive. Not “strong” like “can lift a truck” strong—more like “even God flinches when you sneeze” strong.

And no one had a clue.

That was, until Genos.

You met him during a particularly nasty monster attack. The so-called "Queen of Insects" had reduced half a city to rubble and had Genos on the ropes. He was about to self-destruct when you stepped in. One slap. That’s all it took. The monster was gone. No dramatic power-up, no fancy technique—just smack, and silence.

Ever since then, Genos latched onto you like a stray puppy with rocket boosters, calling you "Master" and insisting you take him as a disciple. You tried explaining that you weren’t some martial arts guru. You didn’t even know how you got this strong. Sure, you trained hard once—until your hair fell out, in fact—but even that couldn’t explain this level of power. You were flesh and blood, and he was a full-blown cyborg. It made no sense.

But Genos didn’t care.

Which brought you to the present: a once-feared S-class cyborg scribbling down every move you made, convinced your manga-reading posture was a form of divine training.

You panicked. You had to give him something—anything—to justify his obsession.

So, you cleared your throat and channeled every ounce of fake wisdom you could muster.

"Genos," you said in your best wise-master voice, "you're a cyborg, so physical training won’t yield much. But a shift in mindset… that could unlock even greater strength."

Silence. Then, a glint in his eye—like he’d just glimpsed the secrets of the universe.

Without a word, Genos bent over his notebook, furiously scribbling down your "lesson" with almost reverent intensity.

You exhaled slowly.

Phew.