Chapter Text
Even if he acted cheerful and couldn’t pick up cues easily, Taiju still knew what other people said about him. He knew people called him different, like how they called Senku different. He had always known that Senku was different. How could he not, when Senku was chatting with NASA scientists while their classmates were struggling to learn basic algebra? Taiju was different, too, but not in the way that Senku was.
Nothing in school interested him, not really. He wasn’t good at science or math like Senku. He didn’t have a passion for crafting like Yuzuriha. Taiju was the bad kind of different; the defective kind. The kind that stuck out in all the wrong ways. The kind that made him apparently, at least according to his teachers, impossible to handle.
He was grateful to his grandparents for taking care of him, really, he was. And he was happy that he could help them around the house. But he couldn’t silence the nasty little voice in the back of his head. The voice telling him that he was stupid (not true, even if he wasn’t as smart as Senku) and useless (His worth isn’t tied to how helpful he can be; he knew that.) Suffice to say, Taiju was more than used to shoving that voice aside, but… he wished he didn’t have to.
That was part of the reason he spent so much time with Senku. Not only did the voice never show up when he was with his friend, but Senku actually took the time to explain what he was doing to him! And he did it in such a way that even he could understand. So he vowed to himself to do his absolute best to help Senku.
Whether it was hauling the supplies or defending his friend from bullies, or just sitting and listening to complex equations he couldn’t even hope to comprehend, Taiju was there. And that was enough for him. Even when he woke up after thousands of years to a brand-new stone world, he did whatever he could.
He smiled. He was grateful to Senku for being his friend. More than anything, he was happy that Senku valued him enough to revive him first. Even more so that Senku was not only accepting, but also asking for help. When it came to other people, Senku would preach practicality; that it would be illogical not to ask for help. But when it came to himself, the scientist would go for days without sleeping, eating, or asking for anything.
But that’s what Taiju–and later Yuzuriha– was there for! So he was grateful that Senku was taking care of himself, even if he didn’t realize it.
Feeling a soft pressure on his shoulder, he glanced down before giving a fond laugh. Senku had fallen asleep sitting up. The soft glow of the campfire illuminated him, highlighting his expression. His face was relaxed, content. A stark contrast to his usual concentrated scowl.
The first six months must’ve been hard for Senku. He had been all alone, without the knowledge of whether anyone would ever wake up. Now, he felt safe enough to fall asleep on Taiju’s shoulder, just like before the petrification.
Carefully, Taiju picked Senku up and climbed up the treehouse’s ladder, placing Senku on the pile of furs they called a bed.
“Have a good rest, Senku.” He whispered, placing his own sorry excuse for a blanket atop the sleeping boy. Taiju smiled to himself before making his way back to the entrance.
He sat himself in the doorway, leaning his head against the wood frame. He gazed at the vast wilderness in front of him. To most, it would seem daunting, having to rebuild all of humanity from scratch. But not to him. Why would it be, when he had someone like Senku to help? Yeah, he decided, staring up at the star-speckled sky, they would be alright.