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Ryusui took a small sip from his makeshift wine glass, swallowing the dark crimson liquid languidly in a slow, precise motion, as if he had all the time in the world. Which, he supposed, he did—being in the Stone Age and all. Not that he didn’t act like he had all the time in the world before, but now it was a quite literal term. He moved through life with an unhurried grace, time having become his ally rather than his enemy, allowing him to explore the depths of his thoughts and dreams without the pressure of a ticking clock or his uncle's reprimands. He was free. No longer held down by the beliefs of men far too old for a modern civilization that was always evolving.
He didn’t have to secretly fight and strategize his every move in order to accomplish a goal; instead, all he had to do was snap his fingers. His whole life he’d been held down by the social standard a child born in the ‘elite class’ was subjected to. He always had to look proper, behave with grace and dignity, never indulge in his desires, and 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 think of the family name. He obviously would fight back on these standards to a certain extent—if he saw something he desired, he stopped at nothing to get it, and if he wanted to behave a certain way, he did, but that choice came at a cost.
To most, the only punishment he was given was an already extreme allowance being cut in half or a reprimand here and there. But what they didn’t see was the constant judgment and disdain he was subjected to.
Wherever he went, he felt the weight of every person watching him, judging his movements, and ridiculing him with whispers that painted him as the villain—the man who believed he was superior to everyone else due to his insatiable greed. As if he 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘥 to have rumors spread about him like a forest on fire.
The elders would mutter about ‘improper conduct’ and ‘the dangers of unbridled desire,’ but their words were wind. Ryusui learned early that the world would not bend for polite requests; it bent for those who took. And so he took. He gave into his desires and never backed down even when those around him ridiculed and judged him for his ‘greed.’
And if it wasn't his greed they focused on, then it was the way he acted, or how he was always so careless with his money, or the fact he never cared for anyone but himself. There was always 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. Whether the accusations were from the media, associates, or people who were supposed to be his family, it was always the same.
No matter what he did, he was always the disappointment. The outcast. He was the clog in the well-oiled machine of life that stopped the smooth movements of all the others. The one that was all rusted and needed to be tossed away but remained too valuable to get rid of, at least, until he’d served his purpose. Whether that included his brain or money, varied, but in the end the result was the same: they'd toss him away without a moment's hesitation, finally finding the moment he slipped up to get rid of him.
Ever since he was a child he didn’t understand why he should be scolded and torn down for choosing to act on his desires. It was a fire that burned within him—a fire that, to a child, felt as natural as breathing. He simply craved, and the world seemed to oblige.
Obviously, looking back, that indulgence was due to his status in the world. However, even after coming to that realization, that didn’t change the fact he was someone who looked at the world around him and saw beauty wherever he turned—beauty he wanted for himself.
He accepted that other people would never understand the core of his being, that they would label him a glutton, a spoiled heir, a man driven by appetite. He wanted, and he desired, and he coveted, and sometimes he felt as if he would never be satisfied. Yet without that relentless desire, that living, breathing creature in his mind, he would not be Nanami Ryusui. It was the engine that propelled him forward, the compass that never pointed south. And due to this nature he was never accepted.
At least, not in the old world.
But here, in this new Stone World, he was exempt from all of that. Of course there were still whispers and preconceived notions, but in a world where everything was destroyed and lost to time, none of it really mattered. Most people here didn’t even know of his family, which was a strange yet welcome feeling. He had the opportunity to forge his own path in society, and he was determined to do just that. Screw the limitations of the old world; in this new one, he was going to rule—going to be 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.
He glanced around, surveying the Kingdom of Science's temporary residence as they built the boat of his dreams. It wasn't the gleaming metropolis he was used to, filled with towering skyscrapers and bustling crowds. Instead, it was an organized chaos of ingenuity, a testament to Senku's relentless pursuit of progress. From the primal workshops to the ever-expanding fields, every corner seemed to hum with purpose. It was a raw, untamed beauty that offered a unique appeal.
He’d been so caught up in the whirlwind of shipbuilding, resource acquisition, money establishment, and the general thrill of being back in civilization that he hadn't truly stopped to absorb it all. Now, with a moment to himself, the sheer power of their achievement washed over him. They were carving a modern world out of stone, piece by painstaking piece. Almost like the countless models of ships he used to build for hours on end, board by tiny board. The thought sent a shiver of something akin to pride down his spine.
𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵, he thought, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝙖𝙡𝙡!
Ryusui rose from his wooden lounge chair, the wine glass set down delicately on a table. "A stroll," he announced to the empty space around him as he snapped his fingers, "is in order!” He wanted to observe, to absorb, to truly see what Senku had built from the ashes of the old world.
He ambled through the village, his eyes taking in every detail. The rhythmic clang of Kaseki's hammer echoed from the construction zone, a steady beat that filled the air with a sense of industriousness.
People, old and young, all conversed and smiled with one another, kids ran around laughing and among them, an unmistakable melon-headed child ran around with her number one sidekick: a dog who was white-furred and fluffy. He wasn’t sure what the thing’s name was (or gender), but he did know that wherever Suika went, the dog did too. Always there to help her out on her next adventure—a true man’s best friend.
It reminded him of when he was little and had a dog. He'd demanded to have one for his sixth birthday. His parents, after three hours of relentless pleading, had finally obliged. A refined Labrador retriever puppy named Kumo bounded into his life, and from that moment on, the world transformed into an endless adventure.
Every day was a new quest, whether they were exploring the mysterious depths of the backyard, or bravely facing the perilous journey to Francois kitchen. Kumo was always there, a loyal companion, ready to chase squirrels, fetch sticks, and share stolen bites of sandwiches under the watchful shade of a tree. Those were simpler times, filled with laughter, muddy paws, and the unwavering belief that anything was possible, as long as he had his best friend by his side.
And standing here, seeing Suika being able to experience those same memories, albeit slightly different, made him realize just how far this stone age has come.
Ryusui found himself smiling, a genuine, unguarded expression gracing his features. This new world, though primitive, possessed a vibrancy that the sterile skyscrapers of his past had lacked. The air crackled with energy, the electric hum of innovation that only Senku could inspire. Ryusui found himself marveling at the creativity on display, the simple yet brilliant solutions to problems that would have stumped even the most experienced engineers of the past world. It was astonishing to think this symphony of progress was only orchestrated thanks to Senku's relentless pursuit of knowledge. It was all really quite impressive. 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘶 was quite impressive.
𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
As he rounded a corner, a flash of gold caught Ryusui’s eye. Ruri, the previous chief’s daughter and Kohaku’s older sister (as he’s come to know,) sat beneath the shade of a large Maximowicz birch tree, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns into a length of cloth. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, catching in her long, golden hair, turning it into a shimmering halo. Her eyes, which Ryusui had only caught fleeting glances of before, glowed with the serene depths of a tranquil sea. He paused, intrigued.
He had seen beauty before—he had practically swam in it during his previous life—but there was something different about Ruri, something untainted, something… powerful. The way she worked and the quiet focus she had were something that made the image of her all the more appealing and captivating. A woman with undeniable beauty and grace, even in this stone world. A beauty that was more than skin deep.
He stood there for a moment, lost in his silent observation. It made sense why she was chosen to be the priestess—her essence almost seemed divine. He hadn’t had the pleasure of talking to her yet, but from what he’d seen and heard, she was a sweet, kindhearted individual; one who had the respect of countless people in the village.
Honestly, he found it hard to believe she was related to Kohaku. Not to say Kohaku was ugly, on the contrary, Kohaku was a beauty in her own right as were all women. It was simply hard to imagine such a sweet, soft spoken person being related to a woman who really did resemble a lioness (as he's heard Senku put it,) especially one with such a formidable presence.
Kohaku carried herself with a regal air, her gaze sharp and piercing, like a predator sizing up its prey. Her movements were fluid and deliberate, each step radiating confidence and power. Even her voice held a certain rasp, a low growl that hinted at the untamed wildness within. It was as if she really were a lioness in human form, ready to defend her pride at a moment's notice.
Meanwhile, Ruri seemed to be a delicate flower, her presence as soft and gentle as a summer breeze. Where Kohaku exuded strength and dominance, Ruri emanated kindness and grace. Her eyes were wide and innocent, her smile shy and hesitant, and her voice barely a whisper. She moved with a quiet elegance, as if afraid to disturb the peace around her. In every way, she was the opposite of her sister, a gentle lamb compared to Kohaku's fierce lioness.
Ryusui hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring—admiring really—until a voice, dripping with amusement, broke the spell.
"My, my, Ryusui. I see our dear Ruri has caught your eye~" Gen drawled, appearing seemingly out of nowhere. He leaned against a nearby tree, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Ryusui froze for a moment, taken off guard, before he quickly turned around to face Gen. He snapped his fingers, a small tingle racing down his wrist.
"Ha-ha! Why of course! A beauty such as hers should be admired just as much as the very craftsmanship she works on." Ryusui replied smoothly, tilting his head back as he cackled.
Gen chuckled, a light, airy sound. His face twisted into a slightly exasperated expression mixed with concern. “You really have no shame, do you?” He muttered under his breath. Then, louder so Ryusui could hear, “Well, though I agree with you, Ruri is quite beautiful, I’d be careful if I were you. After all, you don’t want to make Senku jealous now, do you?”
Ryusui blinked, his smile fading into a frown as his brow furrowed in confusion. “Jealous? What on earth are you talking about, Gen?” He rarely saw the two within the same proximity. Why would Senku of all people care? It wasn’t like the genius ever paid much attention to girls, and it wasn't anything new for him—the greediest man alive—to be admiring them; he shouted all the time how he thought women were beautiful.
Gen widened his eyes in mock surprise, pushing himself off the tree and strolling closer, all playful innocence. A mischievous glint ignited in his eye. “Eriously-say!? Ryusui, you can't be serious. Have you really not heard the tale?”
Ryusui's frown deepened. “Tale? What tale? Why would Senku be jealous?”
Gen's grin widened, bordering on menacing. “Oh, this is onderful-way! Please, allow me to enlighten you my dear naive Seaman. You see, our sweet Ruri here is Senku’s 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.”
Ryusui's mind ground to a halt. The words hit him like a physical blow. Ruri was Senku's wife? The very idea seemed preposterous. Senku, with his singular focus on science and complete lack of romantic inclinations, married? It was as absurd as trying to build a ship out of mud or walk on water. Heck, it seemed more probable for aliens to come crashing from the sky before Senku got a girlfriend let alone a wife.
A whirlwind of thoughts swirled through Ryusui's mind. Senku, the man who seemed to live and breathe formulas and equations, was 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥? The Senku he knew, even if admittedly he hasn’t known the man for long, wasn't the type to be distracted by matters of the heart. He was far too absorbed in unraveling the mysteries of the petrification to worry about trivial things like romance. It was like trying to imagine a robot falling in love—theoretically possible, perhaps, but utterly improbable.
It didn’t go over his head that Gen could be lying, using one of his many manipulation tactics as a mentalist on him, but for some reason that option didn’t quite seem right. There would be no reason to use such a far-stretching lie. If anything, it’d make more sense for someone like Chrome or even 𝘔𝘢𝘨𝘮𝘢 to be wedded to Ruri than Senku. Using one of them to keep Ryusui away from Ruri made far more sense.
Besides, what possible gain could Gen acquire by telling him such an unbelievable lie? It was highly doubtful that Gen liked Ruri, he hardly saw the two interact, and if Gen did like Ruri there’d be no reason to try and manipulate the facts to such a degree. Ryusui wasn't one to stand in the way of someone's desires and he's made that pretty clear.
"Wife?" Ryusui finally managed to ask, his voice laced with disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
Gen feigned innocence. "Why, Senku won the Grand Bout, of course. Remember?”
𝘕𝘰, 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵. Ryusui thought silently, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. What even was a Grand Bout? A competition of sorts, obviously. But of what?
Gen, completely unbothered by the small show of annoyance and seemingly reading Ryusui’s mind, continued on, “All the village's best warriors competed, and Senku emerged victorious, earning Ruri as his wife. This ringing any bells? I'm almost ositive-pay you've heard about it by 𝘯𝘰𝘸. What, with how long you've been a part of The Kingdom of Science."
Ryusui blinked, completely dumbfounded. Senku? 𝘞𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 a martial arts tournament? It defied all logic. The image that conjured was even more ludicrous than the notion of Senku being married. He had always perceived Senku as a brilliant but physically unimpressive individual. The image of the lanky scientist battling hardened warriors and 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 was utterly absurd. Not to mention the very idea of Senku participating in a competition unrelated to science to win someone's hand in marriage was as crazy as saying the sky was lime.
He scrutinized Gen's face, searching for any hint of deception. But the mentalist's expression remained perfectly composed, an enigmatic smile playing on his lips. He looked the picture of truthful, and yet somehow, Ryusui couldn't help but feel he was looking at a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Senku? Won a physical competition?" Ryusui scoffed. "There must be some mistake. He's hardly the most... physically imposing individual."
Gen feigned a hurt expression. “Oh, Ryusui, you wound me! Are you saying my information is unreliable? How orrible-hay!” He raised his pointer finger to the sky. “It’s a well-known fact! Senku won the Grand Bout, I swear. It’s how he became the village chief.”
𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦, Gen silently snickered to himself. What Ryusui didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, though. Only spur on the blonde’s need for an answer. Something he loved to bring out in others. Moments like these, the opportunity to stir the pot, to witness the unfolding chaos of human curiosity, were what made his life as a mentalist so much more worth it. And maybe with any luck, fueling the flames of Ryusui's obvious intrigue concerning Senku could lead to the Seaman helping with the more physical work and spare him the back-breaking labor! After all, who better than him would know that hanging around Senku inevitably led to pitching in and becoming a slave to science?
“He’s practically skin and bones.” Ryusui deadpanned.
"Oh, I wouldn't underestimate Senku," Gen said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "He's full of surprises. Besides, I'm sure he used some form of science to gain an edge.” He waved his hand in the air flippantly, as if shooing away a fly. “Perhaps a cleverly designed trap, or a strategically placed smoke bomb. After all, science is power, right?"
Ryusui conceded the point. It was entirely plausible that Senku had used his knowledge to outsmart his opponents. Heck, it was really the only logical answer. But that still left the bizarre matter of his marriage to Ruri. Why would Senku compete to win her hand in marriage? Could he truly love her? It seemed absurd. Ryusui had thought he had the odd genius figured out, but this left him questioning if he knew him at all.
Ryusui prided himself on his ability to read people, to understand their motivations and predict their actions. He thought he had Senku pegged—a brilliant, driven scientist single-mindedly focused on rebuilding civilization. But this revelation threw everything into question.
How much did he not know about Senku? He had seen Senku's brilliance, his unwavering determination, his almost frightening level of intelligence. But it seemed that even in this primitive landscape, there were still surprises and complexities to be uncovered. And the biggest mystery of all, it seemed, was the man who stood at the heart of it all: Ishigami Senku.
Ryusui straightened his posture, a newfound purpose igniting within him. He would delve deeper, he decided. He would uncover the layers of Senku's personality, unravel the mysteries that lay hidden beneath his scientific exterior and learn everything there was to know about the man who had single-handedly resurrected civilization. It was a challenge, a puzzle, and Ryusui, the man who had never shied away from a challenge, was eager to begin.
But first, he’d need to get his own two feet settled in this new world before he started trying to understand the genius of the Stone World. It shouldn’t be that hard—he was already half way there. Of course, something he should've accounted for was that nothing was ever easy with Senku 𝘰𝘳 predictable.
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A hot air balloon.
They were going to 𝘧𝘭𝘺.
Senku was truly extraordinary!
Ryusui watched, eyes slightly alight, as Senku, with his famously smug grin, explained the principles of hot air balloons to Kaseki and Chrome, sketching diagrams in the dirt with a twig.
"Basically," Senku summarized, dusting off his hands, "heat rises. Trap enough hot air in a big enough bag, and you float. Ten billion percent doable!" Senku declared, as if he were describing how to boil water, not defy gravity with Stone Age technology.
Ryusui, who was accustomed to lavish displays of engineering and wealth, found himself utterly captivated. He'd financed the construction of ships that could conquer the seas, withstand the worst of storms, and set the standard for new ships but this... this was different. This was conquering the sky with utter, audacious confidence, and a vocabulary laced with science he barely understood.
“Ten billion percent doable?” Ryusui mumbled, holding his chin. Where did Senku even get these ridiculous phrases? And how could someone be so unconcerned about something so miraculous? It was unnerving and intoxicating all at once.
He wanted it—he wanted Senku. He wanted to understand everything there was to know about him!
His initial interest in science had been purely transactional. He needed to find oil, oil to make his money, and money to fuel his extravagance. But the sheer audacity of this particular invention—a vessel that would not conquer the seas, but the very air itself—sparked something new within him.
He'd never once considered the possibility of sailing the winds in a giant bag, but now, the idea was taking root, blossoming into a full-blown obsession. He, Nanami Ryusui, master of the seas, suddenly felt an undeniable yearning to become a master of the skies.
The potential! 𝘖𝘩, the potential! The oil fields, previously nearly impossible to find due to treacherous terrain, would be laid bare before his very eyes. Mountains of wealth, ready to be plucked from the earth, all thanks to Senku's insane, yet surprisingly easy to make, invention. He could already taste the profit.
However, there was the matter of his sudden promotion to captain of both the ship 𝘢𝘯𝘥 hot air balloon to consider. Ryusui was no fool. He knew he'd been played. It was in his blood to command, to be at the helm. And Gen, that devious mastermind, had somehow manipulated him into wanting it so badly that he hadn't even noticed the strings being pulled until it was too late.
He was being leveraged for his sailing expertise, money, and, let’s be honest, his ego. But he couldn't deny the thrill of it. He was now the captain of a hot air balloon! He’d been tricked into it but that was just part of being Nanami Ryusui, the king of greed! He’d fly that hot air balloon and become one step closer to making the world his! Then he'd have all the time in the world to uncover the mystery that was Senku. Just watch!
13 ᕼOᑌᖇՏ ᒪᗩTᗴᖇ…
The Kingdom of Science buzzed with activity. Chrome set off to gather materials, Kaseki meticulously crafted the burner system under Senku's guidance, peppering Senku with a barrage of questions. The villagers, led by Yuzuriha, tirelessly wove the massive fabric that would become the balloon itself, and then there was Gen, who proved surprisingly adept at manipulating the resurrected into contributing their labor with the promise of untold riches. Among them all, Suika followed with wide, watermelon-helmeted eyes, tilting her head in confusion as she watched the process unfold.
"But... how does it fly? It doesn't seem very bird-like. Is it real magic this time?" she asked, her voice small and full of wonder.
Ryusui, who’d been walking by and was never one to miss an opportunity to explain his understanding, even if limited, chuckled and knelt down beside her.
"It’s not magic, Suika, but I can see what gave you that idea. Here, I'll explain it to you. Imagine a giant bubble," he explained, carefully avoiding overly technical terms. "Inside the bubble, we'll heat the air with fire, making it lighter than the air outside. Like a leaf that floats on water, the hot air bubble, with us inside, will rise above the ground."
He snapped his fingers, the movement a bit stiff, and gestured dramatically upwards. "We'll be able to see everything from up high! Imagine the view! I’ll become a master of the wind, charting courses across the sky! I'll conquer it, and make it all mine! Haha!”
Suika's confusion didn't entirely dissipate, but a spark of understanding flickered in her eyes. "So… fire makes the balloon fly?”
“Exact—”
Senku, who had been overseeing the stitching of the balloon’s seams, overheard their conversation. He sneaked over, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
"Heh, not bad, Goldie-locks. A good explanation for a non-scientist," he said, interrupting Ryusui and coming to a stop. "Though, I would add it's not just fire used to make the balloon fly. It's the principle of buoyancy, the lift force is directly proportional to the difference in density between the heated air inside the balloon and the ambient air outside. Furthermore, the pressure gradient established within the balloon, as a result of the heating, is what counteracts the force of gravity. This—"
Ryusui threw his head back and laughed. "Hah, of course, Senku! Only you could turn a simple explanation into a lecture on thermodynamics! I'd cut down on the scientific talk, you're going to overload poor Suika’s brain!"
He gestured to Suika, who, bless her heart, looked utterly lost. Even her dog seemed to be confused. Her eyes darted between Senku and Ryusui, a whirlwind of complicated words swirling around her. "Uhh… so… boy-lancy… fire… flying?" she stammered, her voice laced with bewilderment.
She may not have understood the scientific reasoning, but she was undeniably impressed. Ryusui found himself oddly touched by her awestruck expression. It was obvious that even in her confusion she recognized the sheer brilliance emanating from Senku. It was a brilliance Ryusui himself sometimes struggled to comprehend but admired all the same.
He marveled at Senku's encyclopedic knowledge. The man didn't need to flip through books or consult old laws of science (not that he could, considering it was the Stone Age). He just knew. All that information seemed to be hard-wired into his brain. It was infuriating, humbling, and ultimately, utterly captivating. It was undoubtedly a gift—one that the Stone World desperately needed.
He ruffled Suika’s hair, a genuine smile on his face. "Ignore him, Suika. Don't worry your melon-covered head. It's okay if you don't fully understand. I'll simplify it. Just remember—hot air goes up, and we're going with it. Trust me, it's going to be amazing." He found himself strangely enjoying explaining things to her, feeling a warmth he hadn't anticipated.
He glanced over at Senku, who was now meticulously inspecting the burner mechanism schematics, seemingly unbothered by being cut off mid-science rant. “And Senku, perhaps a little less… specificity when explaining things to our young detective?"
Senku merely shrugged, putting his pinky in his ear as he pretended to look at something off to the side. “Eh, it wasn't that complicated.”
Ryusui barked a laugh, completely caught off balance by Senku’s utter lack of care. He opened his mouth, ready to respond, but before he could, he was cut off by a tiny voice. Suika had looked up at him, a huge smile across her face. "So, basically the balloon can fly because Senku is super-smart, right?”
Ryusui blinked, taken off guard for a moment. He let his gaze drift towards the half-finished balloon, its massive fabric shimmering in the sunlight. Flying across the sky relied on Senku’s brilliance, of course, but it also relied on other skills. The balloon itself was all Yuzuriha and the villagers' hard work, the mechanics was all Kaseki, and what would allow the balloon to have direction would be his expertise in the winds. That said…
He turned back, staring at Suika for a second or two longer, studying her, before he grinned, his smile blinding. "Hah! You're absolutely right! He definitely is, Suika. A super-smart scientist." He stood up, snapping his fingers together. "And that brilliance will allow me to fly!”
“Yeah!” Suika cheered, jumping up, arms wide. “This is going to be amazing! I can't wait! I'm gonna go make myself useful so we can conquer the skies!” And with that, Suika was off, rolling away in her melon-helmet with her dog quick to follow in order to help Yuzuriha with the balloon’s seams—the two a bundle of joy and enthusiasm. Ryusui made a mental note to find out the dog's name next time he had the chance.
Still beaming, he turned back to Senku, fully expecting some sort of sarcastic retort, for the genius to be gone all together, or, at the very least, a dismissive grunt.
Instead, he was met with an unreadable expression. Senku's crimson eyes were fixed on him, but they held none of the usual playful mockery or scientific fervor. They were… intense. Almost like he was trying to see right through him. The scientist's mouth was a thin, unwavering line, and his brow was furrowed ever so slightly. It was a look Ryusui had never seen directed at him before.
His expression resembled that of a blank canvas, offering no hint of what churned beneath the surface save for a flicker of something that Ryusui couldn't quite decipher. It wasn’t anger, nor amusement, nor even Senku’s usual detached scientific observation. It was… something else. Something that made Ryusui’s internal compass spin wildly. It was… almost like surprise? As if Senku was genuinely taken aback by Ryusui's unreserved acknowledgement of his scientific brilliance and contribution. As if Senku was surprised Ryusui would give him all the credit and not take it for himself.
Ryusui felt a prickle of unease. He had expected any kind of response save for this unnerving stillness, this almost… surprised look. It was as if Senku was seeing him, truly seeing him, for the first time. And whatever he found was… unexpected. Which was strange. He was usually very open with his thoughts and motives. If anyone should’ve been able to piece together the kind of man he was, he would’ve bet Senku would be the one—if you were excluding Gen of course.
Ryusui was usually so adept at reading people, at understanding their motivations, but as he’s been coming to learn Senku was different. He was a locked box, a complex equation Ryusui hadn't yet managed to solve. This look, this momentary lapse in Senku's usual detached demeanor, only deepened the mystery.
Had he said something wrong? Was Senku really shocked? Discomforted by the praise? Or perhaps simply… suspicious of his motives? He found that last possibility surprisingly irksome, his usual confidence momentarily shaken.
Before Ryusui could formulate a question, before he could even attempt to dissect the perplexing expression, a blur of brown arrived in a whirlwind of dust and enthusiasm.
“Senku! Senkuuu! I found a huge deposit of iron ore! Enough for a new batch of tools AND maybe even…!” Chrome’s voice, loud and breathless, sliced through the tension, its urgency impossible to ignore. He skidded to a halt beside Senku, his face flushed with excitement. He grabbed Senku’s arm, barely registering Ryusui’s presence. “You gotta come see this! It’s ten billion percent bad! Like, really bad!”
Senku’s gaze flickered from Ryusui to Chrome, a flicker of something almost like hesitance crossing his face, like he wanted to continue observing Ryusui—𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 him—before he masked it with his usual smirk. “Alright, alright, settle down, Chrome. Let’s go see this so-called amazing iron deposit. But make it quick. The balloon isn’t going to build itself.”
With a final, unreadable glance at Ryusui, Senku allowed himself to be dragged away by Chrome, their voices fading into the general noise of the Kingdom of Science.
Ryusui stood there, feeling strangely adrift watching as Senku disappeared into the crowd of bustling villagers, Chrome practically bouncing at his side. The everyday clamor of the village, once a reassuring symphony of progress, now felt like a distracting noise. His mind was replaying the moment, scrutinizing Senku’s expression, searching for a key to unlock its meaning.
He had seen Senku look at Kaseki with respect, at Kohaku with a kind of begrudging admiration, at Chrome with confidence, even at Gen with a mixture of exasperation and appreciation. But he had never seen Senku look at 𝘩𝘪𝘮 like that. It hadn't been a look of contempt, of course, or even of disbelief. It was a look of surprise, caught off guard, as if he didn't expect Ryusui to be so open about his appreciation—so genuine. Or maybe… it was because Senku didn't expect him to give him the credit?
Ryusui crossed his arms, a frown creasing his forehead. 𝘞𝘩𝘺? He wondered. Senku knew he was intelligent, the genius had tested him the moment he was brought here. Why would he be surprised that he recognized his genius and was open about it?
The confusion only fueled his already growing desire to understand Senku, to peel back the layers of Senku’s genius and understand the intricate workings of his mind. He imagined tracing the patterns of Senku's thoughts like charting an uncharted sea. It was a task that simultaneously terrified and thrilled him.
He wanted to know what made Senku tick, what drove his unwavering dedication to science, what lay behind those sharp, calculating eyes ten fold. He wanted to understand not just his incredible intellect, but also his emotions—something that seemed even more elusive.
He had always approached Senku as a business partner, an asset to be utilized for the benefit of his ever growing greed. He had respected his scientific prowess, of course, but he hadn't truly connected with him on a deeper level. Not like Suika, who saw him as a super-smart scientist and hero. Not like Chrome, who viewed him as a mentor and friend. And not like Ruri, who managed to win Senku's heart.
He knew it would be a challenge, but a new kind of greed began to blossom within Ryusui, a burning desire to unlock the secrets of Senku's mind and heart. A greed that outweighed his desire to have money in this stone world. He wanted to discover what made the man tick, what drove him, and what lay beneath that cool, scientific exterior.
It was a long shot, he knew, but for the first time, Ryusui was truly a hundred percent invested. His next conquest wouldn't be the sea or the sky, but the mind of Ishigami Senku, and his treasure would be a greater understanding. And his ticket in would be this very hot air balloon.
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The crisp morning air nipped at Ryusui's face as he approached the clearing that housed his soon-to-be vessel of the skies. He strode with purpose, his usual flamboyant cape billowing behind him. Excitement buzzed within him, anticipation of seeing the culmination of countless hours of work: the hot air balloon.
He'd envisioned this moment for so long—the key to unlocking the skies, to mapping the petrified world from above and understanding Senku. It may have taken a few weeks but it was finally time, within a few days they'd fly. As long as the winds permitted it.
But as he approached the small rise overlooking the clearing, he paused. He wasn't alone. Senku, perched precariously on a crate, fiddled with something, already inspecting the balloon with a critical eye. A wrench glinted in his hand as he tightened a bolt on one of the burner mechanisms.
It seemed it was his lucky day.
The past few weeks had been hectic, making it nearly impossible for Ryusui to get a second with Senku that he could use to learn more about the scientist. Now, here Senku was being served to him on a silver platter. The universe was finally on his side.
“Well, well," Ryusui drawled, his voice carrying easily across the space. "Looks like my kingdom in the sky is coming along splendidly.”
Senku barely glanced up, his attention fixed on the burner. “Heh, Ryusui, about time you showed up. Figured you'd sneak out here at some point, itching to take your precious treasure for a spin."
Ryusui chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. "I can see why you'd think that, Senku,” he lowered his voice, his expression growing more serious, “but that'll have to wait. A captain must inspect his vessel with a discerning eye above all else. Fun comes after the balloon has been confirmed to be safe. And besides," he added, a glint of amusement in his eyes, "I wouldn't want to steal all the fun from the resident mad scientist, now would I?"
Senku huffed a laugh, a smirk forming on his face. “Is that right? Well, don't worry. You think I'd leave something this important to chance? Of course not. Gotta make sure this thing doesn't turn into a glorified bonfire on its maiden voyage." He tossed the wrench in the nearby toolbox with a clatter. “That said, by all means take a look. I can assure you it's ten billion percent ready for take off.”
Ryusui chuckled as he began making his way over. He circled the balloon, running a hand over the meticulously crafted fabric. "It is impressive work, really. The stitching is immaculate, the seal is nearly airtight. Yuzuriha is truly remarkable. If the Nanami corporation were still here, I'd make sure they hired her.”
"Yup, that's Yuzuriha for yuh—crazily skilled. Without her I'm ten billion percent positive this would have taken significantly longer," Senku replied, finally turning to face Ryusui, a familiar smirk playing on his lips. "But… getting back to your inspection, as of right now the fabric's holding, burner's firing consistently, lift capacity is… acceptable. We still need to run a full test flight, but I'd say this balloon's ready to fly. Close enough to make a trip to Ishigami Village, anyway. This news is exhilarating. If I were you, I'd get excited."
Ryusui's eyes lit up. "Ishigami Village, eh?” So that was their destination. He’d been wondering what the village was like ever since he first heard of it. The village that persevered when the world ended. It was truly an intriguing place. Not to mention, that seemed to be the first place Senku started his Kingdom of Science. The opportunity to see everything Senku has accomplished in the few years he’s been revived on Earth was too good to pass up. He had to see it.
“Excellent choice!” Ryusui declared. “We’ll have to use the wind currents to our advantage, of course. Considering we can't take a direct route there due to the air flow around this part of Japan always blowing east, but that makes it all the more thrilling! A worthy challenge!"
He began tracing a path in the air with his finger, envisioning the journey.
"We could ride the prevailing westerlies east, then catch the northward flow around the mountains to make it west! It’d be a longer route, but significantly faster. We can survey the area around the village for potential dangers as well before our arrival."
Senku nodded, his expression thoughtful. "That aligns with my calculations. We need to prioritize fuel efficiency, though. Can't afford to get stranded halfway there." He pulled out a small makeshift notebook and began scribbling. "We'll need to optimize burner usage, minimize ballast…"
Ryusui clapped Senku on the back, the sound echoing in the quiet clearing. "𝘏𝘢-ha! Relax a little Senku; I'm sure you'll figure it out! After all, I do seem to recall you and Gen pulled a fast one on me, making me captain of this magnificent vessel!”
Senku grinned, a flash of mischievousness in his eyes. "Heh, guilty as charged! Though, I gotta admit, it was mostly Gen's handiwork. He’s got a real talent for persuasion~"
Ryusui threw his head back and laughed, a booming, hearty sound that echoed through the clearing.
"Hah, so honest! And that Gen! He truly lives up to his title as the world's smoothest talker. He plays on my vanity like a master violinist!” Ryusui’s eyes sharpened, his demeanor shifting as a less chaotic smirk settled into place across his features. “But I can’t say I’m upset; he's a truly interesting character worthy of his title. And y'know, you’re an interesting guy too, Senku. I admire the sheer, relentless effort you put in.” He paused, his expression turning serious for a moment. "I also have to thank you, Senku."
Senku raised an eyebrow. "Thank me? For what?"
Ryusui looked down at the deflated balloon, a genuine smile gracing his lips. "For giving me a new desire. I thought I had most of my desires figured out… But taming the skies? That’s a challenge worthy of my ambition! A desire I didn’t even know I possessed."
Senku was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on Ryusui, as if studying him, trying to decipher the sincerity behind the extravagant proclamation. He didn't dismiss Ryusui as simply theatrical like so many others, but he was clearly trying to gauge the depths of Ryusui's new passion. Finally, he shrugged, breaking the silence.
"Yeah, whatever. Your gratitude doesn't move me one millimeter, so don't get all mushy on me. Just try not to crash the damn thing, okay? We're counting on you to keep it in the air." He turned back to looking at the balloon, dismissing the heartfelt gratitude with a casual wave but Ryusui didn't miss the slight flush now present on Senku's ears. Interesting.
Ryusui burst into laughter again, the sound filled with genuine amusement and a surprising amount of respect. "Typical Senku! Always downplaying the remarkable. Don't worry, I have no intention of becoming a crater decoration. We’ll be soaring amongst the clouds and writing our names in the sky soon enough, I can feel it. So get ready, Senku, the age of flight is upon us, and I'm going to take you there.”
Senku half-turned, finally rising from his perch and placing his hands on his hips. He tilted his head back, a smirk gracing his features as he met Ryusui’s gaze. “Heh, is that so? I'll hold you to that. You better not disappoint.”
“Hah! You're forgetting who you're talking to.” Ryusui's gaze turned sharp, his eyes piercing as he met Senku's gaze head-on. “I'll get you up in the air, and I'll make sure you make it to Ishigami Village. Just you wait, Senku. A sailor's instinct is never wrong, and mine is telling me we'll be in the air soon enough.”
And just as Ryusui said, it was only two days later that they were ready to take flight.
The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in the soft glow of the moon and stars. Senku, Taiju, and Ryusui stood on a cliff overlooking the landscape. In their hands, they held a small, makeshift balloon fashioned from deer guts. It was a proof of concept, a tiny precursor to the behemoth that awaited its maiden voyage.
Taiju held a small vacuum looking device to the base of the balloon, allowing it to fill with hydrogen gas before Senku let it go. It ascended quickly at first, a small dot against the velvet sky and then more gradually as it rose higher.
Ryusui observed its ascent, his keen eyes tracking every subtle movement. He was utterly focused, a captain already charting a course through unseen currents.
A familiar voice broke the silence. "Hey, what are you three gents up to out here?" Gen sauntered over, his usual sly smile playing on his lips. He gave the ascending balloon a curious glance.
𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘺, he silently mused.
Senku smirked at Gen's question, his voice smug yet nonchalant as he answered, "I made a pilot balloon out of hydrogen and a deer's gut.”
Gen felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance, his eyes following the motions of the balloon closely. Before he could complain about how casually Senku said that, ask why they bothered doing this or even so much as say that their little invention was lowkey disgusting, Ryusui cut in, his eyes laser focused as he asked Senku a question.
“What's it's rate of ascent?”
Senku replied easily, his arms crossed as he followed the balloon with his own eyes. “At that size, I'd estimate it at roughly seventy meters per minute.”
Gen, who was still watching, furrowed his brow. He had no clue what was going on but knew it had to be something that would help them get the hot air balloon in the air. Not wanting to be the one left in the dark he asked, “Okay, and does that mean something?”
“You can see the wind by how it moves. The rate of ascent, the direction it drifts… it all tells us about the air currents up there. Essential information for our actual flight." Ryusui effortlessly responded, his voice calm and indifferent as if he were discussing the weather in normal terms, like saying it was sunny outside instead of delving into advanced wind currents.
Before Gen could even respond to that, Ryusui smirked, his voice almost a purr as he continued. "Tell me, Gen, seeing as you know everything… What do you think of its rate of ascent? Should it go up quickly or slowly? Is that something that means anything?"
Gen chuckled. “I have no clue, how about you just tell me?” He deadpanned. Really, he was a mentalist, not a weather reporter.
Ryusui chuckled. “Hah! I like your honesty!” He turned to look back at the miniature balloon, “The way it moves, the subtle shifts in its trajectory… It all paints a picture of the atmospheric conditions. And tonight," he declared, pointing to the now barely visible speck of a balloon, "tonight looks like the perfect night to take off." He turned his sharp gaze to Senku, a new eagerness in his voice. "Let's prepare the others, Senku! The time has come! The Age of Flight begins now!"
“Heh,” Senku drawled, a wider, more genuine smirk than usual stretching across his face. His arms remained crossed, but his eyes, usually blazing with scientific calculation, held a rare, almost manic gleam of pure, unadulterated triumph. It was the look of a man who had stared into the void of the impossible and found not only a path, but the very tools to carve it. “You don’t have to tell me twice, Ryusui. Let’s get this show on the road. The Age of Flight... it's about to be stamped into human history, Stone World style.”
Ryusui’s own smile widened, a reflection of Senku's, but infused with the burning eagerness of a man who desired everything. Their gazes locked for a fleeting, yet intensely charged moment. It wasn't just understanding that passed between them; it was something else. Something more intimate. A promise shared. One born from an intertwined ambition and a mutual recognition of the formidable power they wielded together—the limitless intellect of Senku, the boundless drive of Ryusui. It was the look of two titans, each respecting the other's unique genius, standing on the edge of an achievement that would reshape their world.
Gen, ever the astute observer of human psychology, caught the exchange. His own sly smirk, born of curiosity and mild amusement, blossomed on his lips. He'd seen many expressions on people's faces, but this particular glint in Senku's eyes, mirrored so perfectly by Ryusui’s, was something else entirely. It wasn't just scientific success or material gain; it was a connection that ran deep on a foundational level. It was a fascinating, almost primal connection that bound Senku and Ryusui in a shared dream that transcended their individual drives and promised a deeper connection.
𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮, he mused, a thrill of anticipation threading through his usually unshakeable demeanor.
The silent accord between them seemed to ripple outwards, a signal sent into the very air. Within the next few minutes, as if on cue, a booming shout echoed across the landscape.
"IT'S HAPPENING! THE HOT AIR BALLOON! WE'RE FLYING TONIGHT! SENKU DID IT GUYS!" Taiju, his voice a pure, unadulterated burst of joy and energy, sprinted down the path from the mountain towards the village, his powerful legs eating up the distance, his excitement infectious.
The news spread like wildfire. A rush of movement, a chorus of excited chatter, and then the villagers began to gather. The atmosphere in the village quickly turned electric, buzzing like a live wire. Everyone was filled with anticipation.
Every eye was drawn to the magnificent spectacle that now dominated their horizon—the massive hot air balloon. Fully inflated, its patchwork fabric shimmering softly in the last moments of twilight, it towered over the landscape, a vibrant, improbable monolith reaching for the sky. It wasn't just a machine; it was a monument to their hardwork, to countless hours of labor, innovative thought, and unwavering hope. The impossible, once a whisper, was now a roaring, magnificent presence, poised to carry them into a new age.
Villagers scurried around, making last-minute adjustments, double-checking ropes, and ensuring everything was secure. It was unlike any of the other inventions they had created and it would take them to heights they have never been, everything had to be perfect.
Senku, Ryusui, and, unsurprisingly, Chrome stood ready to embark. However, Chrome, despite his initial wide-eyed wonder at the balloon's sheer size and excitement to fly, was now visibly trembling.
"Ready to fly, Chrome?" Senku asked, a smirk playing on his lips.
Chrome swallowed hard, clutching the side of the basket to steady himself. "R-ready as I'll ever be, Senku! This is… this is totally bad! I can't believe we're actually doing this! Flying through the sky! Like a bird! It's… it's like a dream!" His voice cracked with a mixture of excitement and fear.
Ryusui chuckled, adjusting his captain's hat. "Don't worry, Chrome! Just leave the steering to me, and the science to Senku! You just enjoy the view!"
Senku, ever the workaholic, was busy making final adjustments to the burner system, completely unfazed by the prospect of flight. "Just try not to barf on the fuel, Chrome. We need that."
With a final check of the lines and a nod from Ryusui, the signal was given. A team of villagers released the ropes, and the massive balloon began to ascend slowly, gracefully.
Chrome let out a whoop of excitement as the ground fell away beneath them, the tiny figures of their friends waving farewell. Each one could be heard expressing their own surprise and excitement, some more than others, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, Magma and Kaseki.
"Whoa! We're really floating!" Chrome yelled, his face flushed with joy. "This is the most incredible thing ever! So bad!"
Senku merely adjusted his hair out of his face, his expression as calm and analytical as ever. He was busy monitoring the burner pressure and the balloon's altitude, already calculating the optimal ascent rate and fuel consumption.
Ryusui, on the other hand, was in his element. He stood tall and confident at the edge of the basket, a triumphant grin on his face as he surveyed his domain. The sky was his ocean, and he was the captain of his ship. He snapped his fingers. "Higher! Higher! Let's break through the clouds!"
“Could you not be so loud?” Senku complained, but he was clearly fighting a smile, obviously enjoying the ride just as much as anyone else.
Ryusui chuckled and snapped his fingers again, his fingers seizing slightly. It sent a sharp pin-prickle through his arm but he ignored it. He could barely feel it anyway. “Of course not! My voice should be heard far and wide! After all, the world should know who will be owning it soon enough!”
Senku shook his head, lightly rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Just take it down a notch or else I’ll ten billion percent go deaf.” He adjusted the makeshift belt around his waist, his gaze fixed on the intricate network of ropes and pulleys that controlled the hot air balloon. Ryusui's boundless enthusiasm was intriguing, but sometimes, it needed to be grounded.
They climbed higher and higher, the landscape stretching out beneath them like a vast, green tapestry. The wind whistled past their ears, carrying with it the scent of pine and damp earth. Below, the Kingdom of Science looked like a miniature world, a testament to how high they had managed to climb both theoretically and physically.
There was a moment of silence as they came to view the sunrise before everyone else, the almost ethereal glow shining across them. It was truly magnificent seeing the coastline—seeing the 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥—with their own eyes from a viewpoint most could only dream of in this new world. Chrome most of all marveled at the sunrise, truly getting to see the Earth with his own eyes and confirm his desire to witness the rest of it. He knelt down, his voice trembling.
"It really is round… and I saw it with my own eyes… “ He sniffled, wiping at his eyes in an effort to see past the tears. “Crap. I… I want to see more. This world of ours is so big, I want to know everything!"
Ryusui, ever eager, took the opportunity to scan the horizon. “Indeed, the vastness of this world only increases the desire to procure it all. The land, resources, and the people… all mine for the taking!" He threw his arms wide, a predatory glint in his eyes. This was what he lived for. The freedom of this balloon was almost exactly like the freedom of the open sea. It was breathtaking, extraordinary, and undeniably addicting. He needed to see more, he needed to fly—to 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘭.
After that quiet moment, they continued on their journey, absorbing everything they could. Chrome pointed out familiar landmarks, his childlike wonder infectious. "That's the lake where we first found the sulfuric acid, right? And over there, that's the mountain where..."
Senku continued his calculations, occasionally offering a terse observation about wind speed, atmospheric pressure or sometimes explaining things to Chrome.
“Look, Senku! We're up with the birds! So bad!” Chrome shouted, his eyes filled with wonder.
"Yup, but I wouldn't be too happy about that." Senku swung backward, dodging a hawk as it pierced through the air and nearly hit his head. Chrome shrieked, scrambling backward. "Birds used to be responsible for tons of plane crashes. We want to keep away from them or else our balloon won't be in the air for much longer.”
“Yikes! That's really bad! And not the good kind!”
Ryusui, meanwhile, kept a close eye on the horizon, his senses finely tuned to the subtle shifts in the air. He paid no mind to either of them for the most part; the thrill of being so high up was simply too much to pass on. He was free, they were free, and he was going to cherish this time until the very end.
However, there was a short moment where Ryusui and Chrome had a small tussle, both trying to measure who was the better adventurer after Ryusui implied Chrome wasn’t an experienced adventurer, before Senku broke them apart.
“Any novice could fly this balloon East, but the direction we want to go is West. Which means we’ll have to use a fun thing called a low pressure system. Problem with that is they’re known to brew storms. It's difficult and dangerous. But a professional adventurer overcomes.” Ryusui stated, referring to the challenges of steering the hot air balloon against the wind currents that always blow East over Japan to get to Ishigami Village. “Am I wrong?” He turned to Senku, a huge grin forming across his face.
Senku huffed a laugh, glancing out the side of the balloon to view the landscape. “You’re not wrong.” He acknowledged. He turned back, tilting his head in a small challenge as he met Ryusui’s eye. “So what are you goin’ to do about it?”
“Hah! As if you even have to ask. With me as your captain, you amateurs are free to relax. I’ll get you to Ishigami Village, no problem.”
“A ‘professional adventurer’?” Chrome muttered through gritted teeth, his eye twitching. His hands tightened at his sides, forming into small fists. “Did you just call me an amateur? 𝘔𝘦? The King of Exploration?”
“Huh?” Ryusui asked, turning his gaze towards Chrome. “What did you say?”
Chrome huffed a chuckle, his tone filled with hysterics. “Look, I'm sure you're a 𝘱𝘳𝘰 when it comes to adventuring the 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴. But when it comes to exploring the 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥, I'd say you're about as green as those lush tree tops.” He pointed outside of the balloon, gesturing to the trees and how low the balloon was resting. “You see, when you're close to the ground, the wind tends to blow along the rivers. If you're trying to follow a ‘low pressure system’ you’re gonna need to make sure it's 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 taking you West the whole way.”
Senku hummed, leaning over the edge of the balloon basket to take a look at what Chrome was talking about. “Hm, now that you mention it, we are being drawn along the river a bit.”
“Damn, we'll be stranded if it takes us out to sea.” Ryusui said, rushing over to the bag filled with the balloon's fuel. He opened it and began quickly tossing some coal in. “Let's climb higher. We’ll want a higher altitude if we plan to make it to Ishigami village smoothly.”
"Any 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 professional adventurer who's surveyed the land with his own two feet would know this stuff. It's just something you get a feel for while exploring. Understand?” Chrome asked, glaring daggers at Ryusui. Before the blonde could even think to respond, Chrome scoffed, continuing his rant. “Oh, who am I kidding? Someone who needs a boat to get anything done could never understand it!” Chrome challenged, puffing out his chest.
Ryusui scoffed. "Please, Chrome. I've sailed countless seas, tamed uncontrollable storms and read the wind like a book since I was a child! I know how to navigate. It's why I was revived, or didja forget?" Ryusui retorted, his eyes sparking with a fire ready to turn into an inferno.
“Oh? Is that right? Then why didn't you notice this 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘳, huh?” Chrome barked back, stepping up to Ryusui, his face inches from the Blonde’s.
It would've been an amusing sight any other time. Personally, Senku would've loved to sit back and watch it unfold if it weren't for the fact they were thousands of meters up in the air.
"Enough of this dick measuring contest.” Senku snapped, grabbing them both by the scruff of their necks before they could really get into it. "We're in the air, not a playground. Save your energy."
For a moment, it looked like Ryusui was about to argue, but then his eyes locked with Senku's and though it was only for a short time, a silent understanding seemed to pass between them for the next thing anyone knew Ryusui was sighing, all fight leaving his body.
“Fine. Have it your way.”
And with that, the flight became peaceful and filled with wonder once again. But their joy was short-lived. As they ventured further into the sky, the idyllic blue rested peacefully but the winds held a different tale. As Senku checked the wind it became clear the patterns had picked up, howling around the basket, and dark, swirling clouds gathered on the horizon.
Ryusui's expression turned tense, his whole body jerking with the weight displacement of the balloon as it rocked back and forth viciously. "Heh, well damn. I wasn't expecting such a dramatic change. I guess our westward flight is up against a real sky God, isn't it?” He gripped the ropes of the balloon tighter, his usual flamboyance replaced with a steely focus.
Chrome stood frozen, his face white with terror. “It—it's huge!” He mumbled, his voice barely a whisper.
Ryusui's lips upturned, his smile wobbly as it failed to hide his nerves. “Allow me to introduce… the storm-making demon of the clouds, the 𝘊𝘶𝘮𝘶𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘣𝘶𝘴!” He tried to inject a note of his usual bravado into his voice, but the fear was evident. No matter how much he wanted to seem unaffected by their new friend before them, he couldn’t mask how terrified he was. He’d faced countless storms before, but never like this, not in a vessel that relied on the winds to move—winds that were now out of control.
Before them stood a massive dragon of clouds, surrounded in lightning strikes strong enough to tear through the Earth's crust effortlessly and leave countless running in fear. The storm descended upon them with terrifying speed. Torrential rain lashed at the balloon, obscuring their vision and soaking them to the bone. The wind howled like a banshee, buffeting the balloon violently. The basket swayed uncontrollably, threatening to spill them out into the raging storm.
Chrome shouted, his face scrunched as the wind and rain lashed against his eyes. "Okay, this is bad! What now?" He clung to the side of the basket, his knuckles white.
Ryusui gripped the burner controls tightly, fighting to maintain control of the balloon. His eyes were fixed on the swirling clouds, his jaw set with grim determination. He wouldn’t die here. There was still so much he needed to do before he died—so much he 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥. "Any closer and we'll be sucked in by its overwhelming force!” He declared. “Our balloon would be torn to shreds! We need to prepare for an emergency landing!"
Ryusui quickly explained to Chrome how to make the air balloon descend in order to get to safety, but before Chrome could pull the lever to allow them to descend, Senku stopped him, his face pale and the grip of his hand on Chrome's forearm iron-like.
"Wait,” he ordered, that one word holding the weight of thousands. He pointed out the giant hole at the top of the balloon that was caused by the birds spotted in their flight earlier, making it clear how if Chrome pulled the lever, they'd almost surely lose control and die. The situation quickly went from bad to catastrophic at this revelation. Even so, despite the chaos around him, Senku remained remarkably calm.
He quickly assessed the situation, his mind racing to find a solution. The sudden loss of the top of their balloon combined with the violent winds made it impossible for Ryusui to control the balloon no matter how skilled he was and they definitely didn't have any tools to fix the tear. In a matter of minutes, he would succumb to decreased oxygen levels. This would lead to a significant reduction in his brain's ability to produce energy and function properly, ultimately resulting in a loss of cognitive function, slower reaction times, and impaired memory, rendering him useless. No matter how you sliced it they were screwed—completely at the mercy of the storm.
There was no way out.
This was it.
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Ryusui surveyed Ishigami Village, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. Everywhere he looked, he saw evidence of Senku’s brilliance and the villagers’ dedication. The waterwheel spun with impressive efficiency, powering the bellows for the forge. Glass gleamed in the sunlight, crafted from seemingly nothing but sand and hard work.
Even the simple things, like the furnaces spread out in every home and the sturdy construction of the houses, spoke of a meticulousness that both surprised and intrigued him. This wasn't just a village; it was a testament to the power of science, applied with relentless focus.
It was impressive, undeniably so. A week had passed since his first flight in the new world where he conquered the dragon of the skies and arrived at the famously talked about Ishigami Village, a week of observing, absorbing, and occasionally, ordering people around with a flamboyant flourish.
He'd learned the layout of the village, the rhythms of its inhabitants routines, and the names of the key players in Senku's Kingdom of Science. He'd almost entirely pieced together every puzzle piece there was to understand the Kingdom of Science's people and way of order.
Some villagers had returned from the construction site near the coast, where the ship that would carry them across the seas was steadily taking shape. Among them was Ruri. And that's where Ryusui's understanding began to fray. The one puzzle piece he couldn't place.
He'd been given a hurried, albeit enthusiastic, explanation of the Kingdom of Science's origins upon his arrival from Kohaku. It started from when Senku first broke free from his petrification, met his friend turned enemy Tsukasa, then continued to when Kohaku first met Senku and how the villagers didn’t trust him, to how Senku had won the Grand Bout to become the village chief and, by extension, Ruri's husband, and ended with the painstaking process of rebuilding civilization from scratch and the war that resulted with Senku wanting to revive the very man who had tried to kill him. Twice.
The explanation confirmed Gen’s earlier story on how Senku and Ruri came to be married. It actually cleared things up a lot better, giving him a clear reason for why Senku participated. The answer was quite obvious: Senku needed the villagers' trust, and in order to gain that, he had to become chief. It was smart, Ryusui would admit, but still seemed so… unreal. Honestly, the whole story of Senku’s endeavors thus far seemed unreal, but to some extent he could see them happening. But the part with Senku being married? That part had seemed the least likely until now.
Gen, with his characteristic flamboyance, had painted a vivid picture of Senku’s victory, emphasizing Ruri as the grand prize but ultimately leaving out the key details of Senku needing to become village chief (unsurprisingly). But Kohaku had confirmed it, and Senku hadn’t denied it (not that he's asked,) making it undeniably true. Which is why Ryusui was utterly baffled by the interactions he witnessed between Ruri and Chrome.
Chrome, the budding scientist with dirt permanently etched under his fingernails, was hopelessly, and rather obviously, in love with Ruri. Ryusui saw the way Chrome stammered around her, eyes wide with admiration. Ruri, in turn, held a gentle affection for Chrome, her gaze lingering on him a beat too long, her smiles a touch too warm.
It was painfully obvious they were pining for each other.
And Senku, supposedly Ruri's husband, seemed completely oblivious. Or, worse, indifferent.
Ryusui found this… unsettling. He was a man who loved to take whatever he wanted, that was true, but he was also a man who knew to appreciate order, even in matters of the heart. A wife belonged to her husband as a husband belonged to a wife, even if he'd effectively won her in a contest.
The audacity of Chrome, and the implied lack of concern from Senku, rubbed him the wrong way. It was disrespectful, chaotic, and, frankly, unbefitting of someone like Senku, who seemed to value logic and efficiency above all else.
If Senku didn’t care for Ruri, Ryusui had no doubt the multi-colored haired scientist would’ve immediately divorced her (even if personally he could never imagine parting with such beauty). And he was sure that if the roles were reversed, Ruri would leave Senku. Obviously they cared for each other if they were still together, so then why?
He noticed the subtle glances Ruri and Chrome exchanged, the barely-there brushes of their hands, the blush that colored Ruri’s cheeks when Chrome spoke. It was undeniable; they were infatuated with each other. So how could Senku not see? How could he not 𝘥𝘰 something?
Ryusui decided to keep quiet on his findings at first, simply choosing to observe, but the final straw came a few days later. He was walking through the village when he rounded a corner and saw them: Chrome and Ruri. Chrome had lay on top of Ruri, his hands instinctively bracing himself on either side of her. Their faces were mere inches apart, beet red and eyes locked in a silent, intimate conversation.
Ryusui’s blood boiled in a way he'd never experienced before. He didn’t stick around long enough to notice the dropped items scattered around the two or the obvious tree root that would trip anyone not paying attention. Nor did he stay long enough to see the flustered babbles and quick scrambles away that followed his departure. He only left with one thing on his mind: he needed to find Senku. And find Senku he did. He found the mad scientist tinkering with a new invention—something involving a clear liquid and a series of intricate glass tubes over in the lab.
"Senku!" Ryusui’s voice was sharp, cutting through the gentle quiet.
Senku barely glanced up. "What's up, Goldie-locks? I'm busy perfecting distilled water, and though the science behind it is stupid simple, I still want to get this done sometime today, so make it quick."
"It's about Ruri and Chrome," Ryusui said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Specifically their… behavior. It's inappropriate."
Senku finally looked up, his brow furrowed. "Inappropriate? What are you talking about?"
"They’re obviously…” How should he put this without being too harsh? “Fond of each other. And a few minutes ago I caught them together 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺. I know you’ve seen them act that way before, but this was different. More serious." Ryusui pressed his words, hoping the meaning of them was clear. Senku didn’t react, just stared at him like he was speaking another language.
Ryusui felt his jaw tighten in annoyance. He figured Senku would’ve had a bigger reaction. Unless Senku didn't understand what he meant. And if that were the case, he was even more confused. Senku was a genius who should be able to understand what he was talking about instantly. And yet, for a genius, he seemed rather slow on the uptake. Then again, Senku didn’t seem like the type to be informed on how to deal with emotions. He was far too straightforward and quick to suggest things—something Ryusui’s used to his advantage before.
Senku stared at him for a moment longer, then a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. "Heh, good for them. About time they got together."
Ryusui sputtered, his carefully maintained composure cracking. "Good for them?! But… Ruri is your 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦!" He stressed the word, as if Senku had somehow forgotten. "Are you really okay with this?” It didn’t make sense. Unless… perhaps Senku was open to a polyamerous relationship? It didn’t seem like his style but it would explain why he didn’t seem to care.
Honestly, if that were the case Ryusui could totally understand. Why settle for one partner when you could have multiple? It was perfect! He’d know best. After all, he was the greediest man alive.
Senku's grin vanished, replaced by a look of utter bewilderment. "Hah? Wife? What do you mean, 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦? I divorced her ages ago!"
Ryusui’s mind ground to a halt. Divorced? When? 𝘏𝘰𝘸? He replayed the conversations in his head, searching for the missing piece. Everything he’d been told so far aligned with other people in the village's information. Perhaps if it was still only Gen who told him about the Grand Bout he could believe he was mistaken, but he was told by Kohaku almost the exact same story. Not to mention he’s overheard some villagers talking about things that confirmed Kohaku and Gen’s tellings. "But… I… you’re divorced?"
Senku stared at Ryusui for a moment, eyes squinted and brows furrowed, almost as if he were annoyed, before a slow dawning of realization spread across his face. He had no doubt who was behind Ryusui’s incorrect information. Hell, he was ten billion percent sure. He let out a long, exasperated sigh.
"Where did you get the idea I was still married to Ruri?” He asked. “Did Gen fill your head with that nonsense?"
"He… may have embellished the story," Ryusui mumbled.
Senku groaned, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "The mentalist loves his theatrics, you should know this by now. He probably saw an opportunity to mess with you and ran with it."
That was most likely what happened, Ryusui could admit. However, there was still one thing left unanswered that put a small hole in Senku’s defense. "But… Kohaku confirmed his story.” And that counter was a major one. Those two were not the type to conspire together and, once again, just like Ryusui had concluded earlier with Gen, Kohaku had no real gain in lying to him. Then again, it was just revealed Gen had lied purely to mess with him so maybe he wasn't the best judge of character. Even so, his point still stood.
Senku scoffed. “She probably rushed her retelling of the story and left out the part where I 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘥 her sister. I promise you, I’m ten billion percent single. I think the real question here is,” a pause as a mischievous grin spread wide across his face. “Why do 𝘺𝘰𝘶 care so much, Ryusui? It's not like it's your business. Unless 𝘺𝘰𝘶 have taken a liking to Ruri."
Ryusui blinked and, without missing a beat, responded. "Because you're a good guy, Senku. You don’t deserve to be cheated on. No one does." The words felt clumsy, inadequate, but they were the truth. He valued loyalty, and the idea that Senku, a brilliant mind, had been being taken advantage of chafed at him.
He could admit the prospect of wanting more than one person wasn’t foreign to him, but to sneak behind another's back to steal someone from them was despicable. He may be the greediest man alive, but even he had standards. If he were to try to take someone else’s lover, he’d simply take that person with them! There was no reason to create a divide between the two when he could have both. Not to mention honesty and communication were crucial aspects in a relationship. If one was lying to the other in such a significant way then it was clear they never truly cared about the other person at all. There can’t be a relationship without trust.
Senku stared at Ryusui, his expression unreadable. It was a look Ryusui had only seen once before, back when he’d agreed with Suika that Senku was a highly intelligible individual, a flicker of something deep and complex that defied easy categorization. It was as if Senku was realizing Ryusui had a deeper depth to him. A mix of unease and curiosity ignited within Ryusui. Just what did he say to bring that look back across the geniuses face?
Before Ryusui could delve further, Senku scoffed and stuck his pinky in his ear, turning his head away and abruptly breaking the silence. "Alright, whatever. Thanks, I guess, but you wasted both our time with this. I gotta get back to work. Distilled water won't purify itself, y’know." He turned and practically fled, leaving Ryusui standing alone, staring after him.
Ryusui watched him go, a smirk growing on his lips. Senku did realize he’d have to come back, right? This was the lab after all.
Ryusui couldn’t help but chuckle. It was amusing how easily Senku, who tried to act so indifferent, could be flustered. Even more amusing to see him try to hide that fluster. He wanted to see more. Just what was it that made Senku tick? What else would fluster him or bring out usually unseen emotions? He couldn’t wait to find out.
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Ryusui took back his previous statement. Perhaps wanting to learn more about Senku was a mistake. If he'd known it would lead to the horrifying realization that Senku, despite seemingly being able to do the impossible at every turn, was an absolutely 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 cook, he would've kept his distance.
He simply couldn't fathom it. This man, this scientific prodigy, could concoct gunpowder from scratch, build a working telephone, and even rig up an honest to God 𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘬 using little more than sheer willpower and the most basic of resources. Yet, when it came to baking bread, one of the most fundamental and, frankly, fool-proof recipes known to man, he failed spectacularly.
Ryusui had been giddy with anticipation. Finding goat meat was a start, a glorious leap forward from fish stew and boiled fish, and fish salads, and smoked fish, and—you get the point. But bread! Bread was civilization, a symbol of progress, a foundation upon which to build the future. He was a foodie at heart, a connoisseur of the finer things ever since he was a child, raised on the world's most exquisite dishes. And he, Nanami Ryusui, had been thrilled to finally introduce the bliss of mouth watering bread to the villagers.
Then he saw it. The… thing. The 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺. It was charred, a blackened, dense clump resembling something dug up from the earth rather than a delectable loaf. The aroma was acrid, a mix of burnt sugar and something vaguely chemical. Hope withered and died in Ryusui’s chest.
Any flickers of hope that may have remained were permanently stuffed when he braved to try it only to find the inside was worse than the outside. Sure, it was charred on the outside, a shade of black that made Ryusui think of burnt tires and ashy volcanoes, but there had been some hope that the inside would have prevailed all outside looks. And yet, inside revealed a gummy, uncooked center. It was like a geological dig site, alternating between hardened rock and sticky tar. It was a far cry from the fluffy, golden-brown loaves he remembered. It was a poison.
The worst part, the truly agonizing part, was watching the villagers devour it with absolute, unrivaled joy. They hadn't known bread before, never experienced the soft, yeasty texture, the subtle sweetness, the comforting warmth. To them, this… 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯… was a culinary masterpiece. Ryusui watched, his heart breaking with every bite, as they chewed on the blackened monstrosity, their faces alight with what he could only describe as misguided delight.
He remembered the joy he'd felt introducing them to goat meat. The way their eyes lit up, the genuine appreciation for a taste they'd never known. He couldn't stand the thought of their first impression of bread being this offensive excuse for food. It was an insult to centuries of culinary evolution!
Ryusui couldn't let this madness continue. There was only one solution, drastic though it may be. He needed to bring in a professional, someone with the skill, the expertise, the sheer culinary artistry to redeem the name of bread in this stone world.
He needed Francois, his faithful butler. The greatest chef to ever live, in Ryusui’s humble, and entirely accurate, opinion.
The thought of Francois brought a wave of conflicting emotions. Relief, hope, but also a sharp pang of longing. Francois wasn't just a butler; they were family. They’d been there every step of Ryusui's life, a constant presence, always ready with a perfectly prepared meal, a wise word, or a perfectly polished shoe. Deep down, Francois had always been like a parent to him. And secretly he'd missed Francois and was devastated—even though he wouldn't show it—that Francois wasn't revived with him. But he had been willing to wait; it would only be a matter of time before Senku found a way to create more revival fluid after all.
However, now the journey to depetrify Francois gnawed at his impatient soul. The Kingdom Of Science needed a chef, a real one, and Francois was the only acceptable candidate. The existing stock of revival fluid was non-existent (at least, to everyone else’s knowledge.) He had no doubt Senku was already working on some way to be able to create more, but the process was painstakingly slow. Time, something Ryusui had never valued more, stretched out before him like an endless, torturous desert.
He needed revival fluid, and he needed it 𝘯𝘰𝘸.
Luckily, he knew exactly where to get some. He knew the reporter, Minami, must have stashed a small vial of revival fluid on her person somewhere despite everyone else thinking the fluid was long gone and he was being obtuse to that fact. He just had to get her to hand it over. And he 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 get it from her. One way or another. He would use his charm, his manipulative skills, whatever it took. He couldn't let the memory of real food fade—he couldn’t let 𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘴 fade.
The ensuing negotiation was… delicate. Minami initially denied having any revival fluid. She played the innocent damsel, spouting nonsense by acting like someone in her position would never need it, but Ryusui wasn't buying it. From what he’d been able to gather Tsukasa had entrusted her with the vital task of choosing whom to revive, which meant she had full access to the revival fluid when it used to be unlimited. And Ryusui suspected a small portion of revival fluid was kept as a backup plan, a journalist’s insurance policy for ensuring she was always in the know. If anyone had motive and opportunity, it was her.
And once he voiced this, his suspicions were confirmed. He’d trapped her, catching her in a web just like a spider does its prey. Of course, just because she admitted to having it wouldn’t mean she’d hand it over. But Ryusui wasn’t worried about that. He knew that everyone had their price, even Minami. All he had to do was figure out what that price was and offer it to her. Something like that was child's play.
However, it seemed he wasn’t the only one who knew everyone had a price.
Gen, ever the opportunist, saw his chance. He leaned close to Minami, gesturing for the phone and the next thing Ryusui knew he was nearly dropping the phone as a loud voice cut through shouting, “Huh!? Eriously-say!? I don’t believe it! Can you really make something like that, Senku?”
For a moment, Ryusui stared at the phone dumbfounded. Distantly, he could hear Chrome asking what Gen was talking about, as Senku hadn’t said anything—he didn’t even have the phone—but Ryusui was too focused on trying to decipher Gen’s plan. There was always a reason for Gen's madness, he just had to listen and wait to find out what it was.
“He says he has the perfect gift for our star reporter, Hokutozai Minami! In exchange for the revival fluid, that is?” Gen continued, his voice coming across as if he was repeating someone else’s words and relaying the information rather than using his own words.
That was it.
Ryusui barely suppressed a triumphant grin. Gen, as always, was a master manipulator. He was promising Minami something in exchange for the fluid even though nothing had been offered. It was a tricky gamble, but there was one thing he was sure he and Gen could agree on—something that was spurring their dear mentalist to talk such bullshit: if it was science, Senku could do it. And with a quick glance to the side, Ryusui could see Senku was already figuring all this out for himself and getting excited at the prospect of creating something new, confirming his and Gen’s beliefs.
Ryusui’s hand tensed around the phone, his grin finally spreading across his face. He loved that look, but loved Senku’s constant want—𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦—for more, even greater. It sent a jolt of excitement through his own body. This would work, no doubt.
A few minutes later, Ryusui, or more accurately, Gen, had possession of the precious vial of revival fluid. It was truly a marvelous feat courtesy of the world's greatest mentalist. Ryusui wasn’t entirely sure what Gen had promised the reporter, but he had two ideas: first, the creation of an audio recorder to enable Minami to interview whoever the Kingdom Of Science revived next or whoever had already been revived; second, a camera, which was a reporter's signature weapon. Both possibilities were options Ryusui had no doubt were enough to break Minami’s resolve and very likely to be chosen by Gen. Either way, whatever was promised was enough to result in victory and that's all that mattered.
However, the waiting was almost unbearable. Taiju, Yuzuriha, Nikki, Gen and Minami set off for the island where Ryusui had first been revived to revive Francois, but he had elected to stay behind. There were already more people than necessary going, and besides, he had to stay and make sure the villagers didn’t eat anymore of that black gooped poison before the others came back.
Still, Ryusui couldn’t help but be impatient. He constantly envisioned the scene: the moment the revival fluid touched the stone, the tremor that would go through Francois’s statue. The stone cracking and crumbling, revealing the one and only Francois.
He wouldn’t be surprised if Francois's first words concerned him—Francois always was too duty oriented, constantly fulfilling their duties to the height of their capabilities. It was what Ryusui appreciated the most about Francois.
Honestly, Ryusui probably would've spent the whole time absorbed in his own thoughts if it hadn't been for Senku walking up to him, for once seeking him out instead of the other way around.
"Ryusui, got a moment?" Senku's words were clipped, businesslike, but the very act of him seeking Ryusui out sent a thrill through the blonde. He masked it with a shrug.
"Depends, you got the drago required for my time?" Ryusui leaned back, crossing his arms, a playful glint in his auburn eyes. He knew perfectly well Senku had no currency that could truly tempt him. It was a dance they both enjoyed.
"Heh, no, of course not." Senku scoffed. “Unless you've suddenly decided to start accepting favors as currency. Which," Senku paused, turning slightly with a glint in his eye, "would actually be surprisingly efficient for resource management. Hmm, food for thought. But no, the drago will have to remain in your coffers for now. Only one of us here is the multi-billionaire, after all. But you're going to give me time anyway, aren't you?" He fixed Ryusui with a direct, unwavering gaze. It was a bluntness Ryusui found both irritating and strangely endearing.
He threw back his head and laughed, the sound booming and rich, filling the relatively quiet space of the main village. "You really are too straightforward, aren't you, Senku? No finesse, no charming build up. You just bulldoze your way through. Always right to the point." He lowered his head, a smile still playfully etched on his face, that playful demeanor soon turning serious. "But alright, I'm intrigued. What grand scheme requires my invaluable assets? Let's see what wonders you're cooking up this time that I can monopolize."
Senku smirked and tilted his head, a silent cue to follow. They headed towards the lab, the air thick with the smell of chemicals and ozone. Senku immediately started fiddling with beakers and test tubes, pouring liquids and powders with a frenetic energy. Ryusui leaned against the edge of a table, watching him work. This was rare. Senku usually only sought him out for resources or strategic planning. This felt… different.
"So, this chef thing," Senku began, his back still turned. A plume of green smoke billowed up from a bubbling concoction.
Ah, so that was it.
"The one we want is Francois.” Ryusui cut in, already understanding where Senku was going with the conversation. Senku was curious about the one person Ryusui’s shown a true interest in, putting everything on the line to get them revived. Ryusui didn't miss the slight smirk that brought out of Senku. It seemed anytime someone was quick to the uptake Senku was put in a better mood—something to catalog for later inspection. “They should be easy to find. They were with me when I was petrified."
"Francois?" Senku questioned, grabbing another vial.
"My butler." Ryusui stated plainly.
Senku finally turned around, a raised eyebrow the only sign of his amusement. "Really? So you want your butler?"
Ryusui allowed a wide, shameless grin to spread across his face. "I want my butler-slash-chef. A master of both fine dining and exemplary service. A true professional in the art of hospitality. Even in this primitive world, they'll make food not just to sustain us, but that will taste like nothing has in thousands of years."
He practically purred the last sentence, savoring the anticipation. He could already taste the exquisite dishes Francois would create. As he spoke, Ukyo and Chrome appeared in the doorway, drawn in by the conversation. Chrome, ever the curious scientist, was peeking around Ukyo, his eyes wide with intrigue but clearly hesitant to interrupt. Meanwhile said blonde's own eyes burned with unrivaled curiosity.
"Did I hear talk of some legendary chef?" Ukyo asked, his voice laced with genuine interest.
Ryusui's smirk impossibly widened. “Ha-ha! You sure did! Francois is the finest chef in this world, stonified or not!” He proudly boasted. “In fact—” Before he could continue however, Kohaku appeared by the entrance, curious to see what the commotion was all about.
“A chef? As in someone who can make more yummy food?” She asked, her words cutting Ryusui off. Her eyes lit up with curiosity and anticipation as she quirked her head to the side.
The group was subtly growing, and Ryusui, with a quick glance, could tell Ukyo was already piecing together a spit fire of questions to go along with whatever Kohaku wished to ask. Probably Chrome too. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the lab when everyone's attention was on him. He liked space to move and gesture around and when confined in a small place such as this he felt trapped, almost helpless. Just like when he was petrified.
Seeing how cramped the lab was getting and the many scrutinizing eyes, Senku subtly led the growing group outside. He didn’t want anything in his lab to get broken and silently understood how Ryusui craved freedom—noting the way Ryusui’s eyes darted to the door and back every few seconds. The oil tycoon in question immediately situated himself on a long wooden chair fashioned after a lounge beach chair, leaning back with an air of practiced nonchalance the moment they stepped outside, though the tension leaving his frame betrayed his act.
Ukyo, completely oblivious, continued, his gaze sharp, "Francois is a French name. Are they French? Can they speak Japanese?"
Ryusui, having gotten back into his element, frowned, genuinely considering the question for the first time. "Huh. Never really thought about it before. They might be Japanese. I'm tryin' to remember if it was Francois or Francoise.” He brought a hand to his chin, racking his brain to be sure Francois was actually called Francois. It’d been a millennia since he was petrified and during that time it could be possible he remembered the name wrong. It wasn't a fun thought to think he'd forget the person who's closest to him’s name, but it was a possibility.
After a second he shrugged and leaned back against the chair. “Whatever. I don't recall that or their gender." After all, Francois has been around since he was just a child, making it unimportant to him to know what gender the blonde was and, to be blunt, Francois wasn't exactly someone who made it easy to decipher a gender for. In the end, he's never bothered to ask. As long as Francois was able to do their job things like gender really didn't matter in the end.
Kohaku's eyes widened. "Seems kinda important!"
Apparently others didn't share that same sentiment.
Chrome chimed in, echoing Kohaku's thoughts, "It wouldn't kill ya to care a bit more!"
Ryusui waved a dismissive hand, his inherent confidence unwavering as he chose to voice his thoughts. "I do know one thing for certain. Francois is the most desirable butler in the whole world. And if they're good, their background and gender don't matter. Am I wrong?"
The air crackled with unspoken opinions, but before anyone could voice them, a new voice emerged from the edge of the woods behind Ryusui.
"Pardon me, Ryusui and friends. I'd like to take a close look at the bread you've made."
Everyone turned. Standing there, with an aura of quiet observation, was a short blonde with beautifully trimmed curls.
Ryusui recognized the figure instantly—𝘍𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘪𝘴.
Even after thousands of years of petrification, even after being abruptly awakened into a world devoid of the luxuries they were accustomed to, Francois was immaculate. They wore a makeshift outfit crafted from whatever materials were available, but it was tailored with an elegance and precision that spoke volumes of their innate style. Francois always knew how to enter a room with an air of elegance. It was comforting to see them like this again, head held high and ready for anything. And better yet, their timing couldn't be more perfect.
Oh, and Behind them, practically dragging himself, was a thoroughly exhausted Gen. Or maybe zombie was a better description.
"Wait, they're here now?!" Kohaku exclaimed, her eyes wide with disbelief. Gen and the others had only left a few days ago. "Just like that?!"
Gen groaned, collapsing onto the grass. He looked ready to pass out, his hair sticking up at different angles and chest heaving. "Am I alive? That was two whole days of walking, nonstop." He whined, voice exhausted.
"Don't we need to, like, fill them in on everything?" Chrome asked, gesturing towards Francois, completely ignoring Gen.
Ryusui chuckled, a low, confident sound. "That's not necessary. I can guarantee you Francois got caught up on the way over here. And they're damn quick on the uptake."
He rose to his feet, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Ryusui pulled out a plate from god knows where that had a chunk of blackened, unrecognizable mass upon it. He held it out, presenting it with a flourish. He’d been prepared for this to happen. "Here it is! The bread we baked using our own homegrown wheat! This… is bread." He made sure to keep his smile from falling, his eyes locked onto Francois. It pained him to acknowledge this monstrosity as bread aloud but for the greater good he would. It was imperative Francois knew the true gravity of this situation.
Francois approached, their eyes narrowing as they examined the… thing. After a moment of intense scrutiny, they spoke, their voice even and measured as they hid their rightful disgust behind a handkerchief. "Preparing for the worst possible scenario is part of my job, so let me ask: You didn't serve this industrial waste to these people, did you?"
Ryusui threw his head back and laughed, a booming, unrestrained sound. "Ha-ha! I did!"
To anyone else, Francois’s face would have remained impassive, an almost serene mask. But Ryusui saw it; the imperceptible tightening of the lips, the almost microscopic furrow of the brow. He saw the bewilderment, the faint but unmistakable flicker of disgust. And he found it relieving.
It was a sign. A guarantee. That slight expression meant Francois was currently cataloging every single flaw in Ryusui's ‘bread,’ meticulously planning the corrections, envisioning the ingredients, the techniques, the very essence of what real bread should be. It was an expression he knew well, one that always preceded Francois unleashing their extraordinary culinary skills.
He knew this single glance would bring about a symphony of flavors that would bring tears of joy to even the greediest eyes. He could barely contain his excitement, knowing that the days of bland sustenance were about to come to an end. The finest cuisine the world had ever known was on its way, and very soon, they would all be relishing in a feast that would have been unimaginable just days ago.
The world was truly about to become richer with flavor, and it was all thanks to the revival of Francois. The thought sent another wave of anticipation crashing over him. He could already taste the future.
“Not gonna lie, it was pretty tasty!” Kohaku chimed in, her head resting back as she seemed to relive the memory of trying Senku’s abomination for the first time in joy. Ryusui had to hold back a shudder, his body physically wanting to recoil at the remembrance of that taste.
“Yes… I understand the situation," Francois finally said, their voice calm and reassuring. However, Ryusui could see Francois’s own disgust shining through that statement. Even Francois knew this bread could never taste good and that the villagers were in dire need of education. "Now, what are our guests hoping to eat? And what style of cuisine are you looking for?”
Ryusui opened his mouth, fully prepared to respond with one of the most lavishing dishes he could imagine being made out of bread, things like French baguettes, Italian ciabattas, sour dough, and the German pumpernickel, but before he could Senku decided to finally speak up as if he knew exactly what Ryusui was thinking and didn’t want to risk him asking the impossible. Of course, that word wasn’t in Francois's vocabulary. If Ryusui demanded a certain cuisine, Francois would make it. That was something Senku was about to learn.
“We need something for a lengthy sea voyage,” Senku interjected, his voice sharp and direct. “It has to keep from spoiling and fill our stomachs. Basically, we want edible bread.” He emphasized the last two words with a hint of desperation.
Francois, unfazed by Senku's bluntness, simply raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Right, and how many months should it last? I'd like as accurate a figure as you can provide, please.” Their tone remained polite, professional, but Ryusui still detected an undercurrent of amusement. They were, after all, used to dealing with a Captain known for his extravagant demands. Senku’s own antics must seem like child's play in comparison.
Ryusui, his mind instantly calculating, responded for Senku with a knowledge born from years of experience navigating the seas, completely cutting off anything Senku may have said. "Huh. In my experience, this crew wouldn't last longer than about a year at sea. It's over by then. So let's say, at most… Ten full months. That's how long it needs to last."
Francois nodded thoughtfully. "Understood, sir. In that case, I have just the thing in mind: stollen, courtesy of the goats.”
“Ha-𝘩𝘢! Sounds delicious! I want it!” Ryusui, unable to contain his excitement, shouted. His whole face lit up at the idea of getting to taste such an exquisite meal after so long. Francois couldn’t have picked a better dish, they were truly brilliant. He couldn’t wait to get started. He wanted it—he wanted all the bread possible! He would get that long forgotten flavor revived if it was the last thing he did.
And just like that, the breadmaking operation began immediately.
Kohaku, with her characteristic efficiency, captured several goats like it was as easy as taking a midnight stroll, ensuring a supply of fresh goat milk for goat butter per Francois instructions. Meanwhile Senku, Ryusui, and Francois worked in perfect harmony, a strange trio bound together by a shared pursuit of culinary perfection.
Senku offered insights into the chemical processes involved in fermentation, while Ryusui provided his knowledge of preserving ingredients and sourcing the finest materials from their limited environment. Francois, the master conductor, guided their hands, ensuring every step was executed with precision.
They kneaded the dough with patient hands, incorporating dried fruit preserved in alcohol, a technique Francois explained was crucial for drawing out moisture and preventing bacterial growth during the long fermentation process. Before long the flour dusted the air like fine snow as Senku, Ryusui, and Francois stood side-by-side, coated in flour, each kneading with varying degrees of expertise.
Francois moved with practiced grace, a symphony of efficient motions that turned the lumpy mass into a smooth, elastic delight. Senku's approach was... scientific. He attacked the dough with the same focused intensity he applied to his experiments, ensuring the gluten was properly developed with each precise push and fold.
Ryusui, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of theatrical energy. He'd announced himself the 'Master Kneader' with a flourish, but his technique was less effective and more… performative. He pounded the dough with gusto, occasionally tossing it dramatically in the air, more for the entertainment value than any actual benefit. And though it seemed Ryusui was only doing this in order to get a tasty meal there was a secret motive at play for his eager participation: it was the perfect opportunity for Ryusui to poke at Senku, to peel back the layers that made up Ishigami Senku and see who he really was.
Like now for example.
"Hah, honestly, Senku," Ryusui drawled, wiping a smudge of flour from his cheek, “for someone who can whip up a radio transmitter from scratch, you're astonishingly bad at making bread. It's almost… poetic." He chuckled, watching Senku's messy attempts to fold and press the dough. "I mean, surely, there's a chemical equation for perfect bread development. Or am I wrong?"
Senku didn't rise to the bait. He just smirked, a thin line of sweat etched on his brow. "Please, it's ten billion percent more complicated than any chemical equation, Ryusui. It requires a different kind of precision. And let’s not forget I told you I was no baker."
Ryusui, ever the opportunist, seized the moment, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Precision? That's rich coming from the man who produced a loaf dense enough to sink a ship!” He gestured dramatically, nearly knocking over a bowl of raisins. “Maybe science can solve everything else, but apparently, it can't bake a decent piece of bread."
A faint flush crept up Senku's neck. He avoided Ryusui's gaze, focusing intently on the dough. “That was just trial and error. It was a learning experience. I’ve analyzed the variables, adjusted the equation. This time will be different.”
The desire to understand what made Senku tick—to dissect the genius that lay beneath the surface—fueled Ryusui's playful taunts. He was testing the waters, probing for a reaction, and it seemed he’d found a promising current. However, before he could delve too deep, Francois intervened, their voice calm yet unmistakably firm.
“Master Ryusui, with all due respect, your own technique leaves much to be desired. Perhaps focusing on your own kneading would be more productive than criticizing Senku?"
Their words were delivered with such subtle authority that Ryusui immediately snapped his mouth shut, knowing what happens when you piss Francois off. He directed a glance at Senku, who was now pointedly ignoring him.
𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯.
The following kneading passed in relative silence, only punctuated by the rhythmic sounds of dough being worked and Francois’s steady instructions. Ryusui, humbled and more than a little intrigued by the subtle blush he'd seen creep up Senku’s neck during his teasing, filed the information away. He’d clearly struck a nerve, and that was a discovery worth exploring.
But the drama was far from over. After a few minutes of quiet, Ryusui launched one final, show‑stopping flourish. With a flick of his wrist he hurled a half‑formed loaf into the air, shouting, “Behold my masterpiece!” His left hand, the one that held his petrification mark, shot out, blue fingers splayed like a bird’s talons, ready to catch it.
For a heartbeat the loaf hung, glinting with the promise of mouth‑watering flavor. Then, as it descended toward his outstretched hand, it slipped. A sharp pang shot up Ryusui’s forearm the moment his fingers grazed the dough, and the bread hit the grassy floor with a muted thud, crumbling at the edges.
Instead of bending down to retrieve it, Ryusui stared at his clenched fist, eyebrows furrowed. The tendons in his hand seemed to tighten as if a cramp had taken root but the pain was fleeting—a sting that fizzed out as quickly as it arrived—leaving a dull ache that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Ryusui brushed the flour from his knuckles, flexed his fingers experimentally, and winced as the tightness refused to loosen.
“What the—?” he muttered, half‑laugh, half‑grumble, the words tumbling out with a mixture of irritation and curiosity.
Francois raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting the moment linger.
It was obvious the pain hadn’t come from the impact of the bread. He wasn’t so delicate that a lump of dough could knock him out. The question that now occupied his mind was whether the cramp was the result of a mis‑timed movement or the countless hours spent crushing, folding, and slapping dough into submission.
After a few seconds he settled on the latter. He’d been kneading for hours, using motions his hands weren’t built for—anyone would get a cramp. Satisfied, he flicked his eyes upward just in time to lock onto Senku’s stare: wide, analytical, unblinking.
The scientist’s gaze lingered a fraction longer than casual observation, as if cataloguing every micro‑movement, every tremor that had just betrayed Ryusui. Heat rose to Ryusui’s cheeks, the same heat that had flushed Senku earlier, only more pronounced. He felt exposed, as though his insecurities had been laid bare for the world to see. Quick to mask the embarrassment, Ryusui forced a laugh that cracked the tension.
“Hah, well that wasn’t quite how I imagined that going. Oh well,” he said, waving a flour‑dusted hand toward the fallen loaf. “It seems the universe simply reminded me that even the best of us can’t always catch a falling star. I suppose my hands were… over‑enthusiastic.” He exaggerated the gesture, rolling his left wrist in an almost theatrical motion, as if to prove that nothing was amiss. “It was just a little… muscle fatigue. After all, I’ve been kneading more dough than a baker’s dozen for the past few hours!”
Senku held his unwavering stare a heartbeat longer, chin tilted, lips barely moving. He seemed to be tearing Ryusui apart at the seems, taking every piece of data he could and putting it together to discern if the excuse Ryusui gave was true or not. Then, after a few seconds that felt like hours, his expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Right… well, if you’d spent a bit more time actually kneading the dough and less time playing with it, you might have avoided that little mishap,” he said, his tone teasing but warm. “Guess this just proves I'm not the worst baker here. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 are.”
A brief, almost audible exhale escaped Ryusui, the charged tension in the air dissolving as Senku’s words landed. He let out a short laugh, more relief than amusement. It seemed Senku decided to buy his lie—something Ryusui was beyond grateful for. Plus, Senku was even so kind as to provide a topic change. This was almost too perfect.
“Hah! It seems we both have a ways to go before we master the art of baking!” Ryusui agreed easily, latching onto the new topic without hesitance. “But it'll only be a matter of time—just you wait, Senku! I desire to master this art and nothing will stop me! I am, after all, the greediest man alive! Haha!”
Senku’s smirk widened, the corner of his eye crinkling. “That you are. And I plan to use that greed to get everything I want. So don't hold back. In fact, keep getting greedier—the more you want, the more leverage I'll have against you!”
“Hah! So straightforward! You really need to learn to be less blunt, Senku!” Ryusui replied, his voice laced with a teasing edge that belied the sincerity behind his eyes. Truly, Senku was shameless.
“Why? It’s worked for me so far.” Senku lifted his eyebrows, inviting a challenge.
Ryusui met Senku’s gaze, his own smile melting into something softer. “That it has.”
And just like that, the moment of awkwardness fully evaporated, replaced by the familiar rhythm of their collaborative labor. Somewhere along the way Senku, intrigued by the method Francois used to bake bread, upgraded the baking furnace, adding water for steam condensation to ensure a perfectly moist crumb. Francois watched with a growing respect for Senku’s scientific ingenuity, clearly as impressed as Ryusui had been countless times at witnessing Senku’s mind at work.
And as they worked late into the night, Francois turned to Ryusui, their expression unusually serious.
“Master Ryusui, as your loyal butler, I pledge to bring the Nanami Conglomerate back.” Francois paused, letting the weight of their words settle like flour on a countertop. “But in order to take on this new world, we’ll need him. Ishigami Senku. I want him.”
Ryusui felt the corner of his lips peek up into a wicked grin, turning to glance at Senku who was a few feet away talking with Chrome about something most likely involving science. Senku truly was magnificent. At every turn he seemed to come up with some new advancement Ryusui would’ve never thought of and made it happen as easily as breathing. And it seemed Francois saw it too. It was decided then, he would have Senku.
“Ha. Yeah, I agree. Obviously.” Ryusui acknowledged, glancing back at Francois. “I’m the greediest man in the world, aren’t I?”
Soon after that, the Stollen was finally ready. The aroma that wafted from the oven was intoxicating, a symphony of sweet spices but deeply satisfying fragrance. The Ishigami villagers gathered around, their eyes wide with anticipation. As the first slice was cut and offered, a collective gasp echoed through the crowd. One bite, and their faces lit up with pure, unadulterated joy. This, this was bread.
Among the crowd there were a few who stood out from the others, one in particular was Chrome. With all his shouting, you’d think someone was dying. “Ah! This is so freakin' bad! What is happening in my mouth? It's like, too good!” Chrome raved about his experience tasting proper bread so loudly you’d believe he had a megaphone, but in truth it was really only joy and his own vocal chords that allowed him to speak so loudly.
Of course, Ryusui didn’t mind the shouting, he was quite loud himself and was no hypocrite. Besides, this was what he wanted. He wanted the villagers to taste 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 bread. He wanted them to discover their desire for mouth watering food and continue to crave it until they accepted nothing but the best.
That said, he also appreciated the smaller proclamations of joy. Like Ukyo, who stood off to the side, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. For him, it was obvious the Stollen was more than just bread; it was a taste of the world he had lost, a reminder of the comforts and luxuries of a bygone era. He wasn't the only one choked up. It was a moment of rebirth, a symbol of hope for a future where the joys of modern life could once again be experienced. The stone world was certainly on its way to being unpetrified of its stone age once more.
After a few more minutes of repeated exclamations of pure joy, all the talk and watch of others enjoying the bread was finally getting to Ryusui. He couldn’t wait any longer—it was his turn to enjoy the bread! So, practically vibrating with anticipation, he reached for a white-powdered, golden-brown, perfectly risen loaf. But before his fingers could close around it, Senku snatched the loaf away. "Just wait a second, dumbass. You're not eating that one."
Ryusui blinked, surprised. "What? Why not? It looks perfect!"
Senku held up a slightly darker, less aesthetically pleasing loaf. "You're trying this one. It looks… sub optimal but it's ten billion percent guaranteed to taste good. I wouldn't want you, with your refined palate, to be subjected to something that's potentially not up to par." He quickly swapped the loaves, palming the ‘sub optimal’ loaf off to Ryusui who watched him with narrowed eyes.
Ryusui eyed the bread skeptically, studying it for any sign of imperfection. He saw nothing obviously wrong with it other than it being a slightly darker shade than the other breads. Personally, any other time he’d try to argue, press for more information, but he couldn’t deny his curiosity. Senku must be up to something, and he desperately wanted to know what. Not to mention he really just wanted to taste some edible bread. So, before he could dwell on it any longer and allow the bread to grow cold, he took a bite.
His eyes widened.
The Stollen was exquisite—moist, rich, and bursting with the flavors of dried fruit and spices. "Francois’ outdone themself! This is… divine!” He declared, practically swooning. “The texture, the flavour… it’s simply perfect! Absolutely perfect.” He praised, completely enraptured by the bread.
He savored another bite, lost in the moment of pure culinary bliss, before realizing that Senku was staring at him, his face almost blank, save for the subtle crimson flush blooming on his ears. It vanished as quickly as it appeared, and then Senku was grinning, a wide, victorious grin that seemed to radiate pure satisfaction.
"Well, Ryusui," Senku chuckled, folding his arms, "hate to break it to you but that bread you just devoured? That wasn't Francois's. That was mine! Ten billion percent proof that I can bake now, so you can shove your bread-baking mockery right up your ass!" He cackled, his face contorting into one that resembled a devil's.
Ryusui stood there, momentarily speechless, the significance of Senku's words crashing down on him. Then, a booming laugh erupted from his chest.
"Magnificent!" he declared, clapping Senku on the back, nearly sending him sprawling. "Absolutely magnificent! You were hiding a competitive streak all along! I knew there was more to you than met the eye, Senku. This is going to be fun!"
“Hey—”
Ryusui leaned in, his eyes gleaming with mischievous delight. "I can't wait to discover what other hidden talents you've been keeping secret,” he purred.
The game was on, and Ryusui was ready to play, eager to unravel the dual-colored haired scientist one playful taunt, one gentle jab, at a time. Senku would be his, it was only a matter of time.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was something captivating about watching Senku in his lab. The controlled chaos, the glint of mad genius in his eyes, the way he seemed to exist on a different plane when engrossed in a project—it was a performance Ryusui found himself increasingly drawn to.
He leaned against the doorframe of the laboratory, arms crossed, a silent observer in Senku’s domain. Said scientist's gaze was fixed, laser‑sharp, on the beaker he was sloshing around. Every turn of his wrist was deliberate, each pause purposeful. When a bead of liquid splashed onto the workbench, he didn’t flinch; instead, he muttered a quick calculation, dabbed it away with a towel, and continued. The silence of the lab was punctuated only by the clink of glass and the occasional mutter of “…if the resistance drops by…”. It was hypnotic, the way a composer might lose himself in a single phrase, and Ryusui found himself slipping into the same trance.
He had no idea what Senku was currently tinkering with—some complex‑looking contraption made of glass tubes and liquid that bubbled intermittently, emitting a faint ozone smell. Useless, pretty much, in the eyes of a seafarer who measured value in riches, wind, and tide. Yet the sight kept him captivated.
For several more minutes Ryusui simply observed. He noted how Senku’s shoulders never slumped, how his fingers never paused, even when the lab’s temperature rose to an uncomfortable 32 °C. The boy‑genius seemed to run on caffeine, curiosity, and a stubborn optimism that refused any notion of a break.
Ryusui, who was used to charting courses where rest was a luxury and the wind never waited, felt a strange kinship. Both men lived by the clock of necessity—one by the tide, the other by the tick of a beaker’s bubble. Yet where Ryusui’s clock could be paused, Senku’s never stopped.
Ryusui smirked.
He’d originally wandered into the lab to check on the progress of the new generator for the ship, but he quickly found himself completely absorbed in observing Senku—something that happened quite frequently if he was being honest. It led him, more often than not, to become a henchman of sorts for Senku, constantly fetching tools from around the lab, passing a beaker of copper sulfate, steady‑handedly holding a nozzle while Senku adjusted the flame.
Or, if Senku didn’t rope him into helping, he’d get dragged into a scientific explanation that was more a rant than a lecture. He knew he should be annoyed by the fact that he kept getting roped into doing manual labor or kept being used as a sounding board, but the more time Ryusui spent in the lab, the more he got to understand Senku. He got to realize how much thought and effort Senku poured into each and every one of his experiments which was more than a fair trade-off for him. After all, it allowed him the opportunity to learn and understand Senku more—which has been his goal for a while now.
For instance, he's learned Senku didn’t just dash together equations; he mapped out possibilities on scraps of parchment, scribbled marginal notes in a language that seemed half‑poetry, half‑code. He’d stare at a reaction for minutes, eyes narrowed, recalibrating a pressure valve with the same patience Ryusui would give a ship’s compass.
When a trial failed, Senku didn’t sigh and move on. He leaned over the beaker, his fingers hovering just above the rim, and whispered, “Let’s try again, but this time with a tighter seal.” Then he would pull a fresh batch of reagents, grind a mineral to a finer powder, and restart the entire sequence. Ryusui watched Senku’s shoulders slump only after a success, a small, almost imperceptible smile breaking across his face—an intimacy between creator and creation that no one else could see.
In those moments, Ryusui saw the relentless work ethic that made Senku a force of nature. Senku rarely allowed himself respite. He would glance at the clock in the corner (a makeshift sundial of copper and glass) and, without a word, dive back into the vortex of beakers and burners. That dedication—this refusal to step away even when his mind screamed for a pause—was intoxicating. Ryusui found himself wanting to see more of it. He wanted to always be privy to that fierce joy that lit Senku’s eyes when a reaction finally tipped over the edge into brilliance.
It was a strange sort of admiration, one that went beyond the typical respect a captain has for a shipwright. Ryusui had always appreciated beauty in all its forms—the curve of a ship’s hull, the vibrant colors of exotic birds, the gleam of precious metals. He’d even proclaimed everyone beautiful in their own way, and he meant it. But this beauty he saw when watching Senku work was different.
The way Senku’s dual-colored hair seemed to defy gravity, each strand jutting out as if statically charged—static that must have built up from countless experiments, the unwavering intensity of his gaze, and the way his shirt clung to his lean frame—all of it sang a silent hymn to Ryusui’s subconscious.
Ryusui’s eyes traced the arc of a single strand of Senku's hair, then slid up to the sharp set of Senku’s jaw, the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, the thin scar that cut across his left cheek—a reminder that even in this new world, the boy who had been a prodigy still carried the marks of his past.
He realized, with a jolt that felt like a sudden gust of wind catching a sail, that he found Senku… undeniably attractive. The realization struck him like a flash of lightning over the water: the admiration that had always been abstract now had a shape, a scent, a pulse.
It seemed it wasn’t just Senku’s brilliance he was drawn to; it was Senku himself. Ryusui felt the world tilt a fraction, the lab's clatter fading into a soft hum as if someone had turned down the volume on reality. This realization wasn’t one of his usual observations. This wasn’t a detached appreciation of an aesthetic, a purely objective assessment. This was… something else entirely.
He was utterly captivated by Senku.
Thoughts Ryusui usually kept at a disciplined distance now drifted unbidden toward the curve of Senku’s smile, the way his eyes narrowed when he focused, the faint scent of ink and metal that clung to him.
𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
A subtle warmth grew, not just a fleeting heat but a steady ember that settled inside him, urging him to stare a little longer, to linger in the space between their breaths. For the first time in years, Ryusui felt the tide of his thoughts turning from admiration of craft to admiration of the craftsman, and it made his heart sway like a ship caught in a gentle current.
"What do you want, Ryusui?"
The sudden question broke the spell. Senku hadn’t even looked up from his work, his voice casual, but the question was direct. Ryusui blinked, momentarily disoriented. Had he been staring that obviously? A blush, unexpected and hot, crept up his neck, and for a heartbeat he wondered if the pirate hat he wore could ever shield him from such raw, uncharted currents.
"Nothing," he replied smoothly, trying to compose himself. "Just… watching." His voice betrayed a hint of vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show, a tremor like a knot in a rope that had just been tightened.
Senku finally glanced up, one eyebrow arched skeptically. "If you’re just going to stand there gawking, you can at least make yourself useful. Hand me that beaker." He pointed towards a beaker off on a table a few feet away.
Without a word, Ryusui pushed himself off the doorframe and sauntered over, his mind still reeling. A task, at least, would distract him from the disconcerting surge of… something stirring within him. He handed over the beaker, careful not to touch Senku's hand.
"Now, carefully add this solution, drop by drop, while I monitor the temperature. Then stir," Senku instructed, his attention already completely back on the experiment.
And so, Ryusui found himself assisting. At first, he was clumsy, unsure of himself—he was usually only ever asked to hand Senku things. But Senku, surprisingly patient, offered clear and concise directions. Slowly, a rhythm developed. Ryusui carefully controlled the drip rate, watching the thermometer with a growing sense of accomplishment. He discovered that despite his lack of scientific knowledge, he possessed a certain dexterity and an understanding of spatial relations that made him a decent assistant.
The two of them worked in relative silence for another hour. Senku, lost in his calculations and adjustments, barely acknowledged Ryusui's presence beyond the necessary commands. Ryusui, for his part, found a strange satisfaction in contributing to the project, feeling a sense of content he hadn't anticipated.
Finally, after about an additional half hour, Senku straightened up, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Alright, let's see what you've done," he said, his tone laced with a mixture of anticipation and skepticism.
Ryusui proudly presented his handiwork, a faint smile playing on his lips. In the old world, he'd only watch when observing scientists in their field. He knew his strengths were in navigating, ship architecture, excelling in sea travel, and commanding attention, not in the nitty-gritty details of scientific innovation, and that was okay. He was a man who knew when he was and wasn’t at an advantage and had no issues not being able to do something. But right now, he had to admit, there was a certain satisfaction in contributing, in being more than just a wealthy bystander.
Senku examined the results, his gaze intense. "Not half bad," he declared after a moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "It didn't explode. That's a win in my book.” His smile grew, transforming into a full blown smirk. A spine chilling spark formed in his eyes to accompany it. “Heh, what do you know, you have a knack for these things. Maybe I should take advantage of you more often."
Ryusui smirked, a wide, uncontrolled pleasure spreading across his face. He threw his head back and laughed, moving to snap his fingers with his characteristic flair only for his fingers to stiffen and lock—something that had begun happening as of late. He fought a wince, a sudden pain ricocheting down his arm, trying to keep face in front of Senku.
"Ha-ha! Of course it is! My hands are worth more than gold, you know. Impeccable craftsmanship is just in my blood. However, don't think my work will come cheap! I’m expecting at least Thirty—no, forty-billion drago for this!"
But as the sound of his laughter faded, he noticed something. Senku wasn't laughing. He wasn’t even smiling. Senku's gaze had suddenly become intensely focused. Not on the device, not on the lab, but on Ryusui's barely snapped fingers. Specifically, on the distinct blue hue that still stained the tips of his fingers, a lingering reminder of the petrification.
“Ryusui…” Senku said hesitantly, his brow furrowing. That one word was spoken almost like Senku was talking to a wounded animal rather than a grown man. It made Ryusui’s jaw clench. Senku wasn’t supposed to talk like that. He was fine, it was just a small spasm. Nothing more. “Do your fingers cause you pain?" The inquiry was uncharacteristically considerate, coming from Senku. It made an unreasonable spike of irritation course through Ryusui. He didn’t need to be pitied.
"Ha-ha! My fingers are in peak condition, but thank you for asking, Senku!" he snapped his fingers again for good measure, silently grateful they didn’t freeze up this time. Instead of being reassured though, Senku seemed to grow more skeptical.
In a blink of an eye however, Senku’s expression had shifted from skepticism to something bordering on mischievous. Before Ryusui could even register what was happening, Senku reached out and took his hand, turning it over in his own, examining it with a meticulousness that made Ryusui’s breath catch in his throat.
“Well, if that's the case then you obviously won’t mind me having a little look, right? I’ve always been fascinated by why your petrification marks were different from ours anyway!” Senku said, his voice playful and smug as he turned Ryusui’s hand over and over, inspecting the joints and tendons. He moved Ryusui’s fingers, bending them at different angles, yet despite how rude his words were the way he moved Ryusui’s fingers was surprisingly gentle.
Ryusui, completely bewildered, found himself at a loss for words. He didn't know 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 to do. A million thoughts were racing through his mind but he couldn’t seem to get a grasp on one long enough for it to fully form—he was utterly lost, frozen just like he used to be in the stone.
After a few seconds Senku’s brow furrowed in concentration as his playful demeanor slowly faded. For several seconds that felt like an eternity he was unnervingly quiet, his eyes locked on Ryusui’s hand in rapt observation, before the silence was suddenly broken by Senku.
“You were about to snap your fingers when the petrification hit you, correct?" Senku asked, his eyes never leaving Ryusui’s hand.
Ryusui, still struggling to process the situation, answered automatically, "Yeah, that’s—yeah." He inwardly cursed himself at the way he stuttered like some school girl confessing to a crush, but he couldn't help it; he was far more focused on trying not to panic or let his fingers twitch where Senku was holding them.
Senku’s hands were warm on his blueified skin, which usually ran cold, as Senku traced the edges of his petrification scar with his fingers, starting with the tips of the nails all the way down to the bones of Ryusui’s wrist. Senku’s touch was gentle; clearly not wanting to cause him any pain, but even so there were still moments where Senku pressed at his joints to feel the texture of his skin, causing a jolt to run through his arm (although, he had a sneaking suspicion the jolt wasn’t pain related.)
Senku hummed, ignoring the response. He continued to manipulate Ryusui's hand, rotating it, pressing on the fingertips, his brow furrowed in concentration. Ryusui found himself mesmerized by the proximity, by the intensity of Senku's focus. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so interested in him, not for his wealth or his skills, but for 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
It seemed like centuries passed before Ryusui, finally beginning to regain some control over his vocal chords, found the courage to speak. He cleared his throat. "Senku? What are you trying to do?"
Senku barely seemed to register the question, simply humming in response and continuing his examination. It seemed he’d decided that Ryusui’s previous answer was the only thing he had to dedicate focus to and now he was free to get lost in his own mind. Ryusui struggled to find the right words to interrupt Senku's intense focus. He felt a strange mix of fascination and unease. He was used to being the one doing the observing, the one holding all the cards. Now, he felt like a specimen pinned under a mad scientist's microscope.
It only took a few more seconds before Senku began to murmur seemingly to himself, half-formed questions and observations about muscle elasticity and cellular regeneration, as if Ryusui wasn’t even there. To Senku, he probably wasn't.
"The whole time you were turned to stone, your fingers had to endure the pressure formed without any give…” A finger traced down the inside of Ryusui’s wrist, following the shift in patterns down to the very end of the scarring. “You can see exactly how the tension was distributed throughout the hand. Heh, you're one lucky bastard, Ryusui, that you have your fingers at all. The healing effects of depetrification are stupidly strong. Yet, it seems you’re now experiencing pain, something I’m assuming is completely new…"
“I told you—”
“I wonder if it affects your agility at all?” Senku asked, cutting Ryusui off. His voice was still distant, focused entirely on Ryusui’s hand. “And what about nerve damage? Can you still feel everything properly? Is the nerve response slower?”
Time seemed to stop. Ryusui felt a strange mix of discomfort and… something akin to flattered fascination. He had never been subjected to scientific scrutiny like this before. Still, he couldn’t help but find himself growing increasingly uncomfortable, the discomfort out growing the flattery. Senku was in his own world, lost in the minutiae of his scientific curiosity, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was holding Ryusui's hand, or that Ryusui was even there. An actual person.
"Or do you notice any difference in temperature sensitivity?" Senku continued, his voice a low hum. "It’s possible the lack of pigment could affect…"
Ryusui, finally having enough, found his voice. "Senku."
Senku didn't seem to hear him. He continued to rotate Ryusui's hand, his eyes scanning every line and crease. "The long-term effects of petrification truly are fascinating." he mumbled, still too absorbed in his scientific curiosity.
“𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘶.”
"You’ve seemed to perform ordinary tasks the same way anyone else would. Until now, as far as I know, your fingers haven’t shown any sign of deterioration, so why…"
Ryusui was struggling to find the words to breach the thick wall of Senku's focus. He cleared his throat, a loud, deliberate sound. Still nothing. Finally, he snapped his fingers loudly right in front of Senku's face.
Senku blinked, his eyes widening as he seemed to snap back to reality. He released Ryusui's hand as if it had suddenly burned him. "Huh? Oh. Right. You’re still here."
"Yup, I am. As you may have noticed." Ryusui, recovering his composure, forced a laugh. "Hah! While I appreciate your curiosity, I'm afraid I have urgent matters to attend to. So…"
“Ryusui—”
“I’ll see you around, Senku. And don’t forget the drago you owe me!” His voice echoed in the air, a flimsy shield against the tremor of unease that pulsed beneath his flamboyant facade.
He turned quickly and strode out of the lab, leaving Senku staring after him. He could practically feel Senku’s gaze boring into his spine, analyzing, dissecting. But he didn't care. He needed to get away, to regain his composure, to understand what had just happened. He wasn’t used to being so… flustered.
He didn't slow his pace until he was well away from the lab, his heart hammering in his chest. There was a dull ache in his hand, a persistent thrumming reminder of the petrification, a feeling he had successfully ignored for so long. He flexed his fingers, willing them to move smoothly, to obey his commands. He couldn't afford to let this hinder him. The world needed Nanami Ryusui, and Nanami Ryusui did not succumb to petty ailments.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, feeling a flush creep up his neck. He shook his head, the image of Senku’s intense gaze still burned into his mind. It was time for a tall glass of something cool, Ryusui decided, and perhaps a long, aimless walk to clear his suddenly flustered thoughts. He needed to regain control, for it was his job to keep his composure.
And so, Ryusui did his best to avoid Senku's gaze for the rest of the day. He threw himself into managing resources, delegating tasks, and generally making himself as busy as possible. He scrutinized nautical charts with Ukyo, bickered playfully with Chrome over the finer points of adventuring, even endured Kinro's unwavering stare while discussing the security of the island. Anything, he thought, was better than facing Senku's unnerving scrutiny.
His usual boisterous pronouncements and observations were noticeably subdued due to these tasks. He no longer stationed himself close to Senku nor did he bother trying to see what Senku was doing with his experiments as he used to. Instead of being practically glued to Senku’s hip he was distant, practically a ghost—to be honest, this was probably the longest amount of time he and Senku had spent apart since his arrival (disregarding the times Senku locked himself away in his lab on a science binge.)
His change in behaviour did not go unnoticed. Even though he wasn’t actively seeking him, Ryusui could feel the weight of Senku’s gaze more than once, a silent question hanging in the air. He simply ignored it, burying himself deeper in his tasks, hoping the moment would pass.
But avoidance was an unsustainable strategy, especially in the close quarters of their revived world. Ryusui knew he couldn’t indefinitely dodge the inevitable; his role as a key member of the Science Kingdom demanded cooperation, especially in ventures like the hot air balloon reconnaissance missions. He found himself checking the skies, a nervous energy simmering beneath his skin, knowing that soon, he'd have to share that confined space with the scientist once again.
True enough, the following morning found them both preparing for another aerial survey. The air crackled with an unspoken tension as they checked the balloon's rigging and fuel supply, their movements stiff and deliberate. Ryusui, usually so effusive and boastful, found himself strangely quiet. He avoided Senku's eyes, focusing intently on the intricate knots, his hands almost shaking.
Once aloft, the silence became almost unbearable. It was so thick it felt like another layer of petrification, suffocating and inescapable. The wind whipped around them, carrying the scent of the sea and the promise of new discoveries, but the usual peace was absent.
Ryusui fidgeted, his fingers drumming a nervous rhythm against the balloon's basket. He loathed this feeling. He was a man of action, of grand pronouncements and bold gestures. This awkward restraint was completely foreign to him. He needed to break the ice, reclaim his dominance, and dispel the unsettling memory of Senku's intense scrutiny.
Finally, unable to bear the weight of the unsaid, he cleared his throat. "So, Senku," he began, forcing a casual tone, "what was your life like before all… this?" He gestured vaguely at the landscape below, at the remnants of a world lost and reborn. He figured that such a broad, impersonal topic was safe enough, a neutral ground to re-establish some normalcy. Plus, it gave him an opening to learn more about Senku.
Senku stiffened, his back straightening as if bracing for an attack. His eyes narrowed, the relaxed glint replaced with a guarded suspicion. "Why do you want to know that?" he asked, his voice flat.
Ryusui, used to Senku’s guarded expressions, even finding amusement in them, threw his head back and laughed. "Relax, Senku. No hidden agenda here, I assure you. Just making polite conversation, y’know? Small talk. Tryin’ to lighten the mood." He leaned back against the basket, spreading his arms wide as if to emphasize his open nature. "Pure, innocent curiosity, that's all."
Senku remained unconvinced, his gaze unwavering. He chewed on his lip, his analytical mind clearly weighing the pros and cons of revealing personal information. He was far too perceptive to believe that Ryusui’s question was purely innocent small talk, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint the underlying motive.
After a prolonged, agonizing silence, Senku finally relented. "Fine," he said, his voice still laced with caution. "But don’t expect some tear-jerking sob story, alright? My life wasn't all that exciting."
And so, Senku began to talk. He spoke of his insatiable thirst for knowledge, his hours spent in his lab, the thrill of discovery, the countless hours he spent building rockets with Yuzuriha and Taiju. Though, Ryusui did note how Senku glossed over his time with them, mentioning Taiju and Yuzuriha almost as an afterthought. It was strange, but also very Senku. It figured he would focus more on talking about his passion for science, the countless experiments, the late nights, and the unwavering belief in the power of human ingenuity rather than focus on heartwarming stories of friendship.
As Senku spoke, the tension in the air began to dissipate. Ryusui listened intently, genuinely interested in the stories Senku shared. He learned about Senku's childhood inventions, his scientific mentor, and the unwavering support he received from his adopted father, Byakuya.
Ryusui found himself drawn into Senku's world, captivated by the sheer force of his intellect and the unwavering passion that drove him. For the first time, he finally could start to understand the history and past that shaped Senku into the man he was today.
He found himself unexpectedly moved, a strange sense of empathy stirring within him. He felt the pressure to compete with the ghost of Byakuya, a desperate need to prove his worth to someone who wouldn't have cared for him. After all, if Byakuya had met him, he was sure the kind hearted man would’ve seen him as a bad influence on Senku. A greedy rich boy using his son for his own desires. Which, wasn’t entirely wrong.
As they approached their target area, Ryusui readied the camera, a device Senku had ‘gifted’ Minami as the reward for her contribution to revive Francois. He adjusted the focus, framing the shot, his fingers hovering over the shutter button. This was a task he was used to, something he's done a hundred times by now, but this time it was different. This time the weight of the camera and this specific task was too much.
A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his left hand, the one bearing the lingering blue hues of petrification. His fingers seized, locking into a rigid claw. The camera slipped from his grasp, plummeting towards the earth. In a desperate attempt to salvage the situation, Ryusui instinctively reached out, but the sudden movement threw him off balance. He stumbled, his feet slipping on the edge of the basket, and he found himself teetering on the brink of disaster.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. He saw the ground rushing up to meet him, heard the wind screaming in his ears. He was certain he was about to fall to his death.
But then, a strong hand clamped around his arm, yanking him back with surprising force. He collided with a solid body, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked up to see Senku, whose face was etched with concern, his grip firm and unwavering.
They stood there for a moment, locked in an awkward embrace, the adrenaline coursing through their veins. The silence was deafening, broken only by the creaking of the balloon and the distant cry of a bird. The camera, forgotten, lay shattered on the ground far below.
Ryusui slowly regained his composure, his breathing returning to normal. He pulled away from Senku—ignoring the way Senku’s grip tightened before relenting, as though Senku was afraid Ryusui would disappear the second he let go—his face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude. Ryusui cleared his throat, forcing a smile.
“Hah! Thanks for the save, Senku! For a second there I was sure I was going to be greeting the ground rougher than I'd like to," he exclaimed, avoiding Senku's gaze, the words feeling strangely awkward on his tongue.
He braced himself for the inevitable barrage of questions. He expected Senku to demand an explanation, to dissect his hand again, to probe the depths of his pain. He was prepared to face another round of scientific scrutiny, another uncomfortable examination of his imperfections.
But to his surprise, Senku simply shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "No big deal," he said, his voice casual but Ryusui didn’t miss the quick glance Senku sent to his hand. "I did it for myself. After all, can't exactly fly this thing back to Ishigami Village on my own, now can I?" He turned away, busying himself with adding more fuel to the balloon, effectively dismissing the entire incident. "Besides, without you there's no way to sail the ship. Let's just get going, shall we? We can't do much up here without the camera anyway."
Ryusui stared at him, completely bewildered. He had expected anger, concern, or at least scientific curiosity. Instead, he was met with indifference, a deliberate attempt to downplay the situation. Senku was acting like nothing had happened, dismissing Ryusui's near-death experience with a careless shrug. He was giving him an out, an opportunity to avoid the dreaded discussion.
He was grateful. And confused. And more than a little curious.
“Right," Ryusui said, forcing a smile. "Let's do that.”
He was grateful for Senku's attempt at nonchalance, his willingness to ignore the elephant in the room. For the first time, he understood that Senku wasn't just a scientist, driven by cold logic. He was also a leader, a friend, someone who understood when to push and when to hold back.
He still didn't understand why Senku had held back this time. Maybe it was because he didn't want Ryusui to return to avoiding him, maybe it was something else. What Ryusui did know, however, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, was that he would eventually find out the reason. But as of now, he'd chop it up to that was what friends did, and leave it at that. Though Ryusui did, in the privacy of his own mind, like to think that the little mishap may have brought him and Senku closer.
At the very least, he managed to avoid another swarm of scrutinization.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Hey, Ryusui, got a sec?”
The voice was unmistakably Senku’s—sharp, a little impatient, but with that faint undertone of curiosity that always seemed to follow his scientific monologues. It cut through the amber hush of the evening like a laser through fog. Ryusui was perched on the high-rise wooden porch of his home, watching the sun bleed out over the river’s horizon. The water reflected the sky’s dying fire, turning the surface a molten gold that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the beating of his own heart.
He hadn’t expected a visitor at this hour. In the Stone World, most meetings were called either during the day or at dawn—when the Kingdom of Science's people could be expected to be awake or still be found shuffling between their duties. Yet here, standing at the threshold of his luxurious home, was the boy‑genius who had rebuilt civilization from ash, clutching a satchel that bulged with the familiar weight of schematics and tools.
Ryusui stared at Senku for a heartbeat, the familiar clang of his own thoughts louder than what Senku’s voice had been. It was odd—Senku never showed up at his place; especially this late and never unannounced, never without a clear, urgent purpose. Curiosity tugged at the corners of his mind, mingling with a hesitant excitement that fluttered like a caged bird.
Ryusui chuckled, a playful smirk curling his lips. “Senku, you’re knocking on my door at a time when even the fireflies are getting ready for bed,” he called out, his tone teasing but warm. “What brings the genius of the new world to my humble—”
“—abode?” Senku finished, stepping up the stairs leading to Ryusui's home without missing a beat. “I knew you'd be here, simple as that. It's not like you have anything important going on. Especially at this hour. I figured this was the perfect time to use that brain of yours to my advantage. So, what do you say? Let me in?”
Ryusui cackled, leaning his head back as he fell to lean on his hands. “Hah! Do you really think that's the best way to ask for my help? Honestly, Senku, I'm starting to think you do this on purpose.”
Senku raised a brow. “Oh, and what would that be? What exactly am I doing?”
Ryusui grinned. “Being a cheeky bastard,” he answered, not even hesitating. “It's no secret you're horrible at social cues but even I know you're not this bad. There's no way you weren’t taught the basics of saying please and thank you when asking for help.”
Senku’s own grin grew, a sinister aura forming with it. “Heh, caught red-handed.” He raised his hands, shrugging as he looked off to the side. “What can I say? You're just too tempting to mess with. It makes it way too easy to be blunt when I'm ten billion percent sure that you'll give me your time. There's no way you're not curious about what I want your opinion on.”
Ryusui chuckled and stood up, slowly making his way over to stand before Senku. He towered over the scientist, his gaze meeting Senku’s with a dark glint. “Is that right? You willing to bet on that? Say… ten billion drago?”
Senku scoffed, sticking his pinky in his ear. “Of course not. I'm not rich. Only a fool would place bets with the stone age's very own King Midas.”
“Hah! King Midas, huh?” Ryusui crossed his arms, tilting his head. “Gotta say that's a new one. But, it's also a pretty accurate description. Alright, I'll give, what is it you want from me?”
Senku shook his satchel. “I got some schematics I want you to take a look at. Nothing too fancy, don't worry. But first, how about we take this inside? I'm freezing my ass off out here.”
Ryusui quirked an eyebrow. “Schematics? On what?”
Senku tilted his head towards a point behind Ryusui. “Let me in and I'll show you.”
Following Senku’s gesture Ryusui glanced back at his house. For a moment, Ryusui stared at the house, a small feeling of unease creeping in. The only person he's ever invited in was Francois. Admittedly, he didn't like inviting people into his home very often. It probably had something to do with always being under the public eye back in the modern world and how he used to always have tons of rich strangers around all the time for galas or business meetings with his father. But then again, this was Senku asking. He sighed.
“Alright, come on.” He pushed the door flap open and stepped in.
Senku quickly followed. He stepped inside, his tunic brushing the worn floorboards. He glanced around, taking in the simple, tidy space—shelves of rope, a small chest of polished wooden model hulls, a workbench littered with drafting tools and a half‑finished model. The scent of fresh pine and the faint tang of river water lingered in the air.
It was all very Ryusui.
He brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead and, without a word, unrolled a sheet of parchment that he set on the low table by the fireplace. The paper unfurled with a soft rustle, revealing a meticulous sketch that seemed to glow in the waning light.
“What’s that?” Ryusui asked, leaning in.
Senku’s grin widened. “I’ve been tinkering with a little… project. I call it the ‘Stone‑Era Speedboat.’ You’ll ten billion percent love it—well, it's still in the design phase, obviously, but you'll love it. Look at this!”
For a moment, Ryusui simply stared at the design.
It wasn’t elegant in the way modern boats had been elegant. There were no sweeping luxury decks, no polished chrome railings, no aerodynamic vanity built solely for spectacle. This thing was practical. Brutally so.
The vessel drawn on the parchment resembled a hybrid between a flat-bottomed raft and a compact wooden skiff, built with shallow rivers and uneven shorelines in mind. The hull was broad and rectangular near the center, widening just enough to maximize stability and cargo capacity before tapering slightly at the bow. Reinforced beams were sketched beneath the decking in thick charcoal lines, each one labeled meticulously in Senku’s cramped handwriting. Mounted awkwardly in the rear was the true centerpiece: a primitive internal combustion engine.
Ryusui could practically hear it already.
Loud. Violent. Shaking itself half apart.
A thick exhaust pipe jutted upward like a smokestack, while a crude propeller shaft extended beneath the stern. Next to it were notes detailing scavenged iron parts, pressure ratios, crude spark ignition systems, and fuel estimates. Several sections were crossed out violently, rewritten in darker ink, evidence of Senku repeatedly refining the design.
Evidently, the purpose of this prototype was to test the stone ages fuel capabilities and create a boat perfectly designed for shallow-water transport that would allow them to skim across the water like a dragonfly over a pond.
The very thought of seeing this boat in person was, for lack of better words, 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨.
Senku looked up, his eyes bright with that familiar spark of relentless curiosity. He tapped the paper. “What do you think, Ryusui? Anything you’d add? Any flaw I’m missing? I’m aiming for a design that can carry a decent load without capsizing, but I also want it to be quick enough to outrun any… unexpected encounters.”
For a moment Ryusui felt the world shrink to that single sheet of paper, the lines of the boat mirroring the lines of his own life—designs drafted in childhood, aspirations set adrift on the sea of his imagination. Then, he glanced up, meeting Senku’s intense gaze. He smirked.
“What’s the matter, Senku? Did you, the all-knowing scientist, finally run out of ideas and decide to ask a sailor for help?” Ryusui’s tone was light, but his heart hammered against his ribs like a drumbeat on a deck during a storm.
A warm, unexpected pride swelled in his chest. The scientist who could recreate electricity with a smile, who could conjure nothing from thin air, was seeking his opinion.
Not Chrome’s enthusiasm.
Not Kaseki’s craftsmanship.
Not Gen’s manipulation.
𝘏𝘪𝘴.
The realization settled deep beneath Ryusui’s ribs, heavy and strangely tender.
Ever since the balloon incident, something between them had shifted. Not broken exactly… but altered. Senku had started watching him more closely after that day. Ryusui would catch the scientist’s gaze lingering on his left hand during meetings, during meals, during mundane conversations. Sometimes Senku would appear beside him without explanation, hovering nearby under the guise of discussing logistics or supplies.
At first, Ryusui had welcomed it. Then the scrutiny began to feel different. Too observant. Too careful. Like Senku was studying him. Testing him. Waiting for another failure.
It put Ryusui on edge in ways he hated admitting even to himself. He didn’t want to feel defective. Didn’t want Senku looking at him and seeing a liability instead of a captain.
Instead of an equal.
But this?
This was different.
Senku had come to him because he trusted his expertise.
The thought sent something warm and almost embarrassingly pleased curling through Ryusui’s chest.
It was a small gesture, perhaps, but it cut through the veneer of Senku’s omnipotence and reached the core of Ryusui’s identity: the boy who built ship models in his workshop, the teenager who spent sleepless nights polishing the hull of his one-forty eight scale megayacht, the young man who, despite his age, knew the song of a rigging as well as any seasoned sailor.
In the old world, he would have paid top coin for such a partnership; now, the exchange was far more priceless.
𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.
Senku smirked, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Oh, I’m fully capable of building a vessel on my own. It’s just you're the only one who can actually keep it from capsizing before we even launch it. I’d rather not find out the hard way that my ‘perfect’ design has a flaw that turns it into a floating tomb.”
A laugh escaped Ryusui, raw and genuine. “Hah! You sure you're willing to pay the cost for my help? My services don't come cheap y'know.”
“I'm sure Gen will think of something to repay you.”
Ryusui smirked, his eyes sparkling with excitement. This was going to be fun.
“Hah, alright, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.” He leaned over the parchment, eyes tracing the lines for a second time as if they were currents beneath the surface. “First of all,” he began, his fingers trailing along the sketched hull, the paper crackling softly beneath his touch, “your weight distribution’s uneven.”
Senku immediately looked offended. “Huh? What are you talking about? It absolutely is not.”
“It absolutely is,” Ryusui shot back, pointing toward the stern. “You’ve got too much concentrated mass around the engine housing. Once the fuel tank fills completely, the rear’s going to sit lower in the water.”
Senku crossed his arms. “Not if buoyancy compensates.”
Ryusui barked a laugh. “And there it is. The scientist answer.”
“The correct answer.”
“Hah! Not in practice.”
He grabbed a nearby charcoal stick and crouched beside the parchment, sketching quickly over Senku’s design. Senku watched immediately, eyes sharp with attention. At first, they were solely focused on what Ryusui was altering, but then, inevitably, the scientist’s eyes flicked to Ryusui’s left hand, where the faint, lingering blue of the petrification still tinged his skin—a reminder of the disaster that had almost torn them apart on the balloon. And Senku’s gaze softened for a heartbeat, then snapped back to the parchment.
Ryusui silently sighed, accepting his fate.
“By the way,” Senku said, his tone casual but his words carefully placed, “your hand… it’s still…?”
Ryusui swallowed, the sudden awareness of his own vulnerability surfacing like a cold draft. He’d spent weeks trying to hide the stiffness, to convince himself the scar was just another part of his story—one he could keep locked away. Yet there it was, an unspoken barometer of his limits, a reminder that he was not the flawless, unbreakable enigma he pretended to be.
“It’s… healing,” he replied, his voice a mix of deflection and honesty. He didn't want to lie to Senku, but he couldn't quite admit to himself, let alone another, what was happening just yet. “Just need a bit more time before I get back to full force.”
Senku nodded, but his eyes lingered a fraction longer, as if cataloguing the subtle tremor in Ryusui’s grip, the way the skin around the knuckle thinned when he tried to flex it. Ryusui felt the familiar prickle of being a specimen under a microscope, Senku's mind always dissecting, always measuring. The balloon incident had left a crack in the fragile veneer of their camaraderie; now, even a simple conversation about a speedboat felt like a trial.
Still, Senku’s indifference to the danger—his casual dismissal of the near‑fatal slip—had been oddly comforting. And despite what had happened Senku was 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, asking Ryusui for help. Not looking down on him or secretly checking in. Senku wasn’t the type to go through the trouble of working up a boat schematic solely to check on him. This was real. Senku still needed him.
Ryusui cleared his throat, forcing his shoulders to loosen. Everything was fine.
“Anyway, you need better load balance.” Ryusui drew several lines along the underside. “Shift the fuel storage closer toward center mass. Raise the side walls here slightly—not enough to hurt stability, just enough to reduce splash intake during turns.”
Senku hummed thoughtfully.
“And your hull reinforcement spacing is inconsistent,” Ryusui continued. “If the engine vibrates as violently as my instincts tell me it will, these joints will start splitting after prolonged use.”
“That’s what the resin coating’s for.”
“That coating won’t save you if the frame itself warps.”
Senku clicked his tongue.
Ryusui smirked victoriously.
The conversation flowed easier after that.
The awkward tension that had haunted them for days slowly dissolved beneath technical debate and playful insults. Senku challenged nearly every suggestion Ryusui made—not because he disagreed, Ryusui realized, but because he enjoyed provoking him into elaborating further.
And Ryusui gladly rose to the challenge.
He explained how he’d spent years building ship models as a child, at first for fun and later with near obsessive dedication. He described entire rooms filled with scale vessels: old naval cruisers, merchant ships, racing yachts.
“There was this one model,” Ryusui said, gesturing animatedly, “a one-forty eighth scale megayacht. Gorgeous thing. Took me months.”
Senku raised a brow. “You built an entire megayacht model for fun?”
“Hah! Of course I did.”
“That sounds stupidly expensive.”
“It was!”
“And time consuming.”
“Also true!”
Senku shook his head slowly. “Go figure you'd toss your money around so carelessly. Guess some things never change.”
Ryusui laughed loudly at that.
“But,” Ryusui continued, grin softening slightly, “I learned a lot because of it. Ship design isn’t just aesthetics. Every curve changes water resistance. Every angle affects stability. If you mess up even one proportion…” He tapped the parchment lightly. “You sink.”
Senku was quiet for a moment after that.
Not dismissive quiet.
Listening quiet.
Then he leaned back slightly, eyes flicking toward Ryusui.
“So basically,” Senku said casually, “your absurd obsession with tiny boats is actually what makes you useful.”
Ryusui blinked.
The comment shouldn’t have counted as a compliment.
Objectively, it absolutely did not count.
And yet—
Warmth unfurled low in his chest anyway, as if a lantern had been lit inside him and the flame refused to be ignored.
Because Senku meant it.
Not mockingly.
Not carelessly.
Useful.
Capable.
𝘕𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥.
Ryusui found himself smiling before he could stop it.
“Hah… careful, Senku,” he said lightly. “Keep complimenting me like that and I might start charging consultation fees.”
“You already do.”
“True.”
The fire crackled softly nearby as the evening deepened around them. The two fell into a rhythm after that, their conversation a seamless dance of suggestion and refinement. Occasionally, Senku would throw a teasing barb—“You’d probably name the boat after the Nanami Conglomerate, wouldn’t you?”—and Ryusui would retort with a grin, “Only if you promise not to turn it into a floating laboratory.” Their banter was light, but underneath it lay a mutual respect.
As the night grew deeper, the sky turning a deep indigo speckled with early stars, the house was lit by a solitary oil lamp. The soft glow made Senku’s hair glint like polished steel, and Ryusui’s eyes seemed to reflect the river’s shimmering memory. The sound of distant crickets filled the gaps between their words, a natural metronome for their collaborative symphony.
Ryusui found himself glancing at Senku’s expression now and then, watching the way his brows knit when he considered a problem, the flash of excitement when an idea clicked. The earlier feeling of being a specimen under observation had faded; instead, he sensed a partnership that balanced both their strengths. Senku wasn’t just a brilliant mind; he was a leader who knew when to push forward and when to let his teammates breathe.
Even so, despite Senku no longer seemingly observing him, Ryusui could tell there was something strange going on.
At first, Ryusui didn’t notice anything odd. Senku continued asking questions about hull shaping, river maneuverability, propeller balance, even sail compatibility for emergency backup travel.
But eventually…
Ryusui began noticing inconsistencies.
Questions Senku absolutely should’ve known the answers to himself.
Questions too basic for someone who had recreated phones from literal stone-age materials.
“What would happen if the current pushed against the hull sideways during docking?”
“You know what cross drift is.”
“Humor me.”
“And you’re asking about rudder placement now? Senku, you literally designed a hot air balloon.”
Senku looked away. “Different field.”
Ryusui narrowed his eyes.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Slowly, realization dawned.
Senku was dragging this out.
The scientist kept finding excuses for the conversation to continue. Another question. Another hypothetical. Another adjustment.
As though…
He didn’t want to leave yet.
The thought sent a strange thrill through Ryusui.
He didn’t mention it.
Instead, he answered every question willingly, curiosity growing alongside a quiet satisfaction. He watched Senku carefully after that, noticing the tiny hesitations before he asked something new, the subtle pauses whenever silence threatened to settle between them.
Eventually, though, even Senku seemed to run out of excuses.
The scientist leaned back with a quiet exhale, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well,” Senku muttered, glancing toward the darkened doorway, “guess I should probably head back before it gets any later.”
Ryusui’s chest tightened unexpectedly.
And from the slight downturn at the corners of Senku’s mouth—
Senku seemed disappointed too.
The realization hit Ryusui like wind filling a sail.
He wanted Senku to stay.
Simple as that.
And Ryusui Nanami had never been the kind of man to ignore what he wanted.
“Hah! That’s stupid,” Ryusui said immediately.
Senku blinked. “What is?”
“You walking all the way back this late.” Ryusui crossed his arms casually, though his pulse had strangely quickened. “Just stay here tonight.”
Senku froze.
Only for a second.
But Ryusui caught it.
Caught the brief widening of his eyes. The flicker of consideration. The almost imperceptible shift forward like he’d nearly accepted immediately.
Then logic returned.
Ryusui could practically see it happen.
“Nah,” Senku started, scratching his cheek awkwardly. “I’ll be fin—”
“I also have a project I wanted to discuss with you.”
That stopped him cold.
Senku’s eyes narrowed immediately with interest.
“…A project?”
Ryusui grinned slowly.
Bingo.
“Hah! Curious now, are we?”
Senku smirked. “What kind of project?”
Ryusui turned away toward the back room, deliberately evasive. “Guess you’ll have to stay the night to find out.”
For a moment there was only silence.
Then Senku chuckled quietly behind him.
“Heh. You manipulative bastard.”
Ryusui’s grin widened.
“And?”
Senku adjusted the satchel on his shoulder before dropping it onto the floor beside the table.
“…Looks like I’m staying.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ryusui was furious. After all this time they finally found the oil and 𝘯𝘰𝘸 Senku was going to give up? A word that under any other circumstance wouldn't exist in Senku's vocabulary? It was infuriating. He’d waited three thousand seven hundred 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 for someone to be worthy of teaming up with him, to build his dream ship, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let that chance slip away.
Not now.
The threat of petrification was too near to delay for the years that it would take to make his dream boat—the one-forty eighth scale mega yacht—he knew that, but he didn't 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦. Giving up on their sailing ship to build a smaller vessel? 𝘜𝘯𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. They would build this ship. No matter what. Even if it was the last thing they did.
Now, despite how furious he was, something you should know was his day hadn't started out bad. On the contrary, he'd been excited. They were all heading to the shoreline to check on the boat's progress—he was going to get to see how far his lifelong dream was turning out. Everything had been fine until they got there. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 when everything went to shit.
He'd stood amidst the chaos that was the Ishigami village shoreline. The skeletal frame of the ship loomed large against the backdrop of the ocean, a testament to their ambition and Kaseki's tireless efforts. He was gathered around like everyone else, eager to hear how everything was going.
"All right! Looks like they'll have the ship in shape in no time!" Chrome announced, ever the optimist. He was staring directly at the skeletal frame, a huge grin spread wide across his face.
But Kaseki's shoulders slumped, his aged face etched with despair. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking too, but…” he gestured, “Some parts are too short, some misaligned, some poking out! And now on top of all that, the hull's starting to warp! I fix one side and the other one falls apart. I don't know what to do! I'm sorry, guys!" He collapsed to the ground, his head hung low as he cried in utter defeat.
Ukyo, ever the kindhearted person he was, offered a comforting word. "Hey, it's not your fault, Kaseki."
Kaseki sniffled, raising his head to meet Ukyo's eye. "Oh, you're so good to me. I might fall for you!" Kaseki responded, his face lightening up a little.
"Not really what I was trying to accomplish," Ukyo chuckled nervously, his face strained as he gave a small, sheepish smile. He looked back up to the ship, "but even in our time, shipbuilding on this scale required expertise and very advanced techniques. It's only natural you'd struggle. Honestly, it's amazing you've managed to come this far."
Senku, hands resting on his hips, seemed unfazed by the looming disaster. "Eh, that's not the issue. We could just keep at it and learn from our mistakes like always.” He chuckled, "I mean, the Kingdom of Science is practically built on trial and error."
Magma, never one for patience, grumbled, "How many years would that even take?"
"Hopefully less than it takes Why-Man to make a move," Ukyo added grimly.
That was the turning point. Senku's casual demeanor shifted, a dark, calculating glint entering his eyes. "Uh-huh. I never accounted for that part. We no longer have infinite time with the Why-Man clock ticking…”
He brought a hand up to his chin, his eyes laser focused on a part of the ground as if it could give him all the answers to the world.
“Change of plans." He declared, his voice holding a note of finality.
A chorus of confusion rippled through the crowd. Everyone's eyes locked onto Senku as they awaited his instructions, but no one could prepare them for what he was about to say.
Senku’s words fell like a bomb, "Let's ditch the giant ship. It'll be a smaller boat with a limited crew." His voice was grim, strained with the effort it took for him to admit defeat. They simply couldn't afford the time for their original plan. It sucked, but there was no getting around it.
Gasps erupted. Chrome's face fell. "What do you mean by a limited crew? Most of us won't be able to go then!" He protested, his excitement quickly evaporating.
Yo interjected, determination blazing in his eyes. "Yeah. And I'm gettin' on that ship."
Kaseki looked heartbroken. "Oh! Do I really have to give up on all my work?” He rushed over, hugging a part of the wooden vessel. “But I love my sweet little shippy-boo!"
In the back, behind the chaos, Ryusui looked on the verge of a mental breakdown. "Give up? On something we 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵? On my big, beautiful, full-scale sailing ship?" Ryusui's voice cut through the dismay, low and dangerous.
Now, this is when the fury hit—simmering just beneath his skin. 𝗚𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘂𝗽? The very notion was a foreign concept, an insult to the fire that burned within him. Ryusui clenched his fists, the faces of those around him blurring as flashes of the past assaulted his mind.
His uncle, a man who had tried to clip his wings at every turn, smothering his ambition with condescending words, appeared. He'd always say, "Ryusui, I'm tired of your greediness. You need to learn when it's time to give up on things." Whenever he aimed for the moon. He was always so quick to dismiss his ideas, to tell him to be ‘realistic.’
The hollow eyes of adults who had long abandoned their passions, their dreams replaced by the mundane drone of daily life, resurfaced. "It's just a want, Ryusui, not a need," they'd say, their voices laced with a weary resignation. "Don't be so greedy."
He had never fit in. Too flamboyant for the upper class, too wealthy for the common folk, and too ambitious for his own family. They couldn't understand his burning desire for more, his refusal to simply accept what they deemed ‘enough.’
They called him self-indulgent, arrogant, a spoiled brat blinded by his own desires. They loathed how he wouldn't lie to himself and pretend as if a great desire was only a simple want and not a need. They wanted to trap him in a cage, but he wouldn't let them.
He may have been forced to swallow most of his desires as a young child, a bitter pill he had no choice but to accept until he could finally start earning money of his own during middle school using the Nanami name, but he wouldn't let that happen again.
Ryusui knew better.
He lived by the unwavering principle that if he wanted something, he proclaimed it, he worked for it, and he achieved it.
Ryusui wouldn't let Senku succumb to the same fate he had. He wouldn't let him become just another adult who had convinced himself that his dreams were mere wants, easily discarded when faced with adversity. He wouldn't let him back down from the ship. 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.
Ryusui gripped his fist, his resolve hardening. He wouldn't let Senku give up on his desire; he wouldn't let Senku give up on 𝘩𝘪𝘴 dream. He took a deep breath, forcing the memories back, focusing on the present. He had to find a way, any way, to keep the dream alive. But what could he do? What other options were there? What—and then it hit him.
He's designed a one-forty eighth scale mega yacht before. All he'd need now is a trustworthy man who could take this model and use it to bring his ship to life. A man worthy of teaming up with him. And he already knew a man who perfectly lived up to the task.
"Senku," he announced, his voice ringing with newfound conviction. "I'm going to make us a model of our vessel." He declared, walking towards Senku with a wave of unwavering confidence.
A murmur of surprise rippled through the crowd as they all focused on him. Everyone was listening intently, each curious to see where he was going with this. Ryusui grinned, he had their attention, he 𝘸𝘢𝘴 going to get what he wanted.
He continued, "Then we'll blow it up to scale. Kaseki can reference my model to rework what we've already got started. I think that we can pull it off. Right, Senku? Or am I wrong?”
A slow grin spread across Senku's face. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that resonated with approval. "You're right, we can. As long as we've got an absolute fanatic who can make a one-forty eighth scale model that's up to snuff, and I'm talkin' ten billion percent accuracy here. Got it?”
Ryusui huffed a laugh, his smirk growing at the absurdity of Senku's words—at the implied meaning. “Who do you think you're dealin' with? I'll make you a ship that's truly worth getting excited about.”
Gen, who had been observing Ryusui's outburst with a thoughtful expression, leaned towards Senku, his voice a low whisper. "Is this a good move? He could turn around and demand a ten billion drago fee."
“Ha-ha! There's no need! Not since I won't have to give up on what I want!” Ryusui answered, his words booming. He'd overheard Gen easily, his ears used to picking up on noises from across the waves of the sea. He understood Gen's hesitation, but he wouldn't let him sway Senku. He wanted this—he 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘦𝘥 it.
Senku, who had been listening to Ryusui with a mixture of surprise and amusement, chuckled. “Heh, I'm not used to seeing you so eager to help out. Maybe you 𝘥𝘰 have a hidden motive."
Ryusui cackled, throwing his head back. "I desire a big, traditional beauty, Senku. Not much complicated about that." His eyes sparkled with passion. "There's no rhyme or reason to my desires. I simply want what I want. And right now, I want that ship. Remember,” he lifted his hand, the one that will forever remain scarred, and snapped his fingers. Senku's eyes locked onto the motion. “I'm the greediest man in the world! I never give up on anything! Because greed equals justice!”
“My, my, how... 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵," Gen murmured, his tone laced with suspicion. He knew Ryusui well enough to recognize that there was always a hidden layer beneath Ryusui’s flamboyant exterior. “What are you 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 getting at here?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “That's a nice speech, but I know you want something else, it's never that simple with you. So tell me, what is it?”
Ryusui opened his mouth, ready to try and defend himself, but before he could Senku cut in with a dismissive wave. "Relax, Gen. Even if Ryusui has some ulterior motive, he'll still be helping us build the ship. In the end it's a win. And besides," his smile widened, "I'm pretty good at manipulating people, too. Especially greedy ones.”
He turned to Ryusui, an unreadable glint in his eyes. His words were harsh, as though he had no faith in Ryusui either, but his smile was genuine. Despite his words Ryusui could tell Senku truly trusted him.
It was strange.
Ryusui chuckled, a genuine, heartfelt sound. But then again everything Senku seemed to do was a little strange. He'd figure the scientist out eventually, but as of right now he had a model to build.
In the following days Ryusui dedicated himself to the task with a fervor that bordered on obsession. He set up his workshop in a secluded corner of the village, a makeshift space located on a balcony under the watchful gaze of the towering trees. The blueprints, enlarged and painstakingly copied from his original designs from memory, were spread across a table he’d had Kaseki cobble together from salvaged wood.
He scavenged for materials with tireless energy, disappearing for hours into the surrounding forests and returning with armfuls of balsa wood, resin, and other rare components found within their storage.
He needed the finest wood, the most pliable clay, the sharpest tools. He barked orders, not unkindly, but with a ferocity that brooked no argument.
He haggled with Chrome for pigments to achieve the precise colors he envisioned, arguing that only the most historically accurate shades would do for a vessel of such grandeur, even in miniature. He charmed Kohaku into helping him carefully select the sturdiest reeds for the sails, and sweet-talked Kinro into sharpening his carving tools to a razor's edge. He was a whirlwind of activity, his body a constant blur as he moved from task to task in the corner of everyone's eye.
He worked late into the night, the flickering lamplight casting long, dancing shadows across his face as he meticulously carved and shaped the tiny components. His scarred hand moved with surprising dexterity, guiding the miniature tools with an expertise honed over years of crafting intricate models.
Every detail was crucial: the delicate curve of the hull, the precise angle of the masts, the minute but crucial placement of each window. He’d trace the outline of each feature with a lead pencil, then with gentle care he would saw each feature out and sand it down. He would then piece it all together, and paint.
He barely ate, forgetting the need for sleep as he became completely absorbed in the project. Francois would try to get him to rest but the world outside the confines of his workshop faded away, replaced by the meticulous, demanding reality of the model. Ryusui found himself lost in a world of tiny measurements and meticulous corrections, a world where perfection was the only acceptable standard.
Senku began appearing at some point, almost as predictably as the sunrise. It was as though Senku missed Ryusui and needed to cure that longing with any interaction he could get. Sometimes, he’d just walk past the open doorway of Ryusui's makeshift office, casually glancing in without a word. Other times, he’d stop in to ‘check’ on the model's progress and ask a seemingly pointless question. Ryusui, without even glancing up from the minuscule gears and levers, would bark back an answer and then turn back to his work.
He'd expect Senku to offer a retort, a snarky remark about the limitations of Ryusui's understanding of applied physics, or perhaps a challenge to test his answer empirically. Instead, Senku would linger, just standing there, his usual restless energy seemingly contained. Ryusui wasn't stupid; he knew Senku was purposefully drawing out the interaction. This wasn't about checking in on the model; it was something else entirely.
Then there were the times Senku would simply stand in the doorway, his arms crossed, silently observing for long minutes, completely discarding the façade. It was unnerving, but Ryusui refused to acknowledge him, burying himself deeper into his work. He knew Senku was watching him, Senku's eyes, like a hawk, assessing the movements of his scarred hand, searching for any sign of strain or discomfort. As if Senku knew Ryusui was feeling pain.
He wasn't wrong.
Ryusui tried to ignore it, pushing himself even harder. He wanted to prove that he was capable, that his hand wouldn't betray him, that he was a valuable asset to the Kingdom of Science. He wanted to get to work on the real thing, not this model. Even so, he couldn’t fully deny the fact that he wasn't operating at one hundred percent. It was infuriating, but inescapable.
One evening, after hours of painstaking work on the miniature rigging, Ryusui felt a familiar presence behind him. He kept working, his fingers deftly tying knots that would be nearly invisible to the naked eye. “Senku,” he greeted without turning.
“Ryusui,” Senku answered. “Just getting some air.”
Ryusui snorted. “In my workshop, at midnight? I’m not an idiot, Senku. Or didja forget?”
“Fine, you got me. I’m checking on the progress of the model,” Senku replied, shrugging. “This model needs to be ten billion percent accurate, y’know. Can’t have any mistakes.”
Any other time Ryusui would’ve let Senku's little act slide, play along with the façade, but tonight he was running on zero sleep coupled with the frustration that came from struggling with one specific part of the model that should've been easy to put together. He was completely done with everything. Senku included.
Ryusui finally turned, his eyes narrowed. “You’re checking on me. Specifically, my hand.”
Senku feigned ignorance. “Psh, what are you talkin’ about? Your hand looks fine to me. Perfectly capable of tying tiny knots. My only concern is your ability to deliver the perfect model. Are you getting the model done, or not?”
Ryusui's eye twitched. “Of course I am,” he responded, making sure to keep his voice calm and any annoyance out. He turned back to the model, taking a deep breath. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Senku hummed. “By all means, don't let me stop you.” It was quiet after that, for almost a full ten minutes Ryusui was allowed to work in peace. He'd almost completely forgotten Senku was there until said scientist spoke up as he was painstakingly attaching a tiny railing to the deck.
"You know," Senku said, his voice casual, "we could use some more reliable lighting in here. That lamp's light isn’t exactly optimal for late night working."
Ryusui, his focus shattered, finally snapped. "Aren’t you needed elsewhere? I’m sure there’s something that needs to be looked over to make sure we’re ready for our journey that’s more important than lighting."
Senku leaned against the doorframe. "Just stating facts. Adequate lighting is crucial for detailed work. Prevents eye strain."
"I'm fine," Ryusui retorted, his voice sharp. "My eyes are twenty-twenty."
Senku simply shrugged. "Suit yourself. Just seems like you're working yourself to the bone. Maybe you should delegate some of the finer details."
Ryusui fought a laugh. That was rich coming from 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘶 of all people. He slammed his tools down on the table, the noise echoing in the small space. "Why? Because you're worried about my hand?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Think I'm going to break down and be useless again?"
Senku’s expression remained unchanged. "Don't be ridiculous, Ryusui. I trust you're capable of completing the model. I just want it done right. Which is more likely to happen when you have proper nutrition and rest."
"Liar!" Ryusui roared, his patience finally snapping. He surged forward, grabbing Senku by the front of his coat and shoving him against the nearest wall, the force of the impact shaking the small model. "Don't treat me like an idiot, Senku! I know you're watching me, checking on me, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 about my hand!"
Senku didn't flinch, his eyes meeting Ryusui's head-on. "I have no clue what you’re rambling about. I just want to know how my model is coming along. The last thing I care about is if your hand is up to par. I know you can do this and that if you felt your hand was a real problem you’d get help."
Ryusui’s grip tightened. "Tell me the truth, Senku!"
Senku’s lips twitched, just barely avoiding a smile. "I am being honest. This model is important, Ryusui. Any time I spend here is time I can afford."
Ryusui stared at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But Senku’s expression remained impassive, his eyes unwavering.
"You're getting paranoid, Ryusui," Senku continued, his voice softening slightly. "You need to relax. You're allowed to delegate, you know. And you ten billion percent need some rest. This isn’t supposed to be a race, it’s a project."
He paused, then added, "Just take your time. That’s all I ask."
With that, Senku gently pushed Ryusui's hands away and walked out of the workshop, leaving Ryusui standing there, his chest heaving.
Ryusui stood there for a long moment, his mind racing. He didn’t believe Senku, not entirely. But the calm, almost gentle tone of his voice, the genuine honesty that had flickered in his eyes, had cooled his anger.
He chuckled softly, a low, exhausted sound. He brought his hands to his face, pressing his palms into his eyes. Dammit. He 𝘸𝘢𝘴 getting paranoid, he had to admit. Senku, that infuriating, logical, science-obsessed man, actually cared. It was aggravating, incredibly annoying, and yet… it was also strangely comforting. Senku came not because he pitied him or thought he was incapable but because he genuinely held concern for him.
He smiled, the exhaustion etched into his face. “Damn you Senku,” he murmured to himself. “Always so confusing.”
Shaking his head, Ryusui turned back to the model, his hand reaching out to carefully adjust a tiny, perfectly placed detail. He ignored the way it shook, his blue fingers subtly seizing. He still had a ship to build. Though, perhaps he could slow down the process a bit. If only to ease Senku’s worries. If anyone asked he’d say it was repayment for when Senku saved his life. Only in the corners of his mind would he admit it was because the idea of Senku being stressed over him disturbed him deep down in a way he couldn’t fully understand just yet.
For a moment Ryusui debated on whether he should go seek Senku out and apologize for his outburst. He could admit he’d blown things up far more than necessary. He’d been too irritable and way too aggressive. But just as quickly as the thought came Ryusui dismissed it. Senku wasn’t the type of person to care for apologies. He cared about results. The best apology Ryusui could give would be finishing the model while taking Senku’s advice to slow down.
Ryusui smirked. It was decided then; he would finish the model but on a more extended schedule then planned.
A few days later the model was nearly finished.
He'd requested Kaseki and Senku to come see his nearly complete model, but it seemed word spread of his success because before he knew it, not only were Kaseki and Senku in attendance, but so were Minami, Ukyo and Gen. He didn't mind, he was more than happy to show off his finest work yet, but he couldn't help but be a little wary as to why out of all people those three showed up.
He didn't have to wait long to get his answer for one of them, however. Before he knew it Minami was setting up a Senkon camera, announcing, “There!” In satisfaction. She perched her hands on her hips, her lips curved in a smile.
“What are you up to, Minami?” Kaseki asked, tilting his head as he walked over to get a look at what Minami was doing.
Minami gave a genuine smile, her head tilting to the side as her face lit up with utter enjoyment. “I wanted to chronicle the construction of the ship from start to finish! Cool, huh? It's the kingdom of science's photo journal!”
Ryusui didn't bother to wait around and hear what Kaseki had to say to that, instead he turned his focus from eavesdropping to informing Senku, Gen, and Ukyo about the changes he made from Senku's original design of the ship. It wasn't very surprising Minami was here to do what she does best: report.
“I’ve made a few changes.” He announced, his voice even and filled with pride. “For example, we need a cargo hatch for sure. I've moved it just below the mast.” He pointed, showing the mini port and even demonstrating how it'd work.
“Good call!” Ukyo acknowledged, his voice filled with genuine appreciation for the effort Ryusui put in. “With that positioning, we can attach a pulley to the boom to make raising and lowering cargo a cinch.” He smiled, glancing up at Ryusui.
Gen huffed. “They don't call you the sailing king for nothing, I guess.” He relented, his face fighting against trying to remain indifferent and being impressed as he observed Ryusui's hard work. “You've got real-world experience.”
Ryusui smirked. Instead of bothering to brag he gestured towards another part of the ship. “And in the space we gain as a result, I'm thinking we build an on-board casino!” It was only fair, considering all the hard work he put into this little model. It wasn’t easy making a mini model that could actually function. Oh, what he wouldn't give to be able to gamble again. Nothing beats using your wit and poker face to gain money!
"We do 𝘯𝘰𝘵 need that!” Senku interjected, his voice sharp and dismissive. “A casino? On a ship? That’s just adding unnecessary weight and complexity. We’re trying to explore, not throw away resources on frivolous entertainment. Every square inch of space is valuable for science and supplies!”
Ryusui threw his hands up in exasperation, a playful glint in his eyes. "Frivolous? Senku, you wound me! Think of the morale boost! A little friendly competition, a chance to test one's mettle against lady luck! It’ll be fantastic! A happy crew is a productive crew! Besides," he lowered his voice conspiratorially, "a little gambling revenue could fund further scientific endeavors, couldn't it?” He winked, a mischievous smirk settling across his features.
Senku pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly unconvinced. “The only advantage we need is the power of science! We’re not building a pleasure cruise, Ryusui, we’re building a vessel for discovery. A casino is ten billion percent illogical!” Senku scoffed, crossing his arms. "And gambling breeds addiction. We're trying to re-establish society, not recreate the vices that plagued the old one."
Ukyo sighed, pressing a hand to his temple. "They're off again," he murmured to Gen, who was currently examining his nails with deliberate nonchalance. “It's like watching two sides of the same coin argue. Both driven, both brilliant, but with completely different priorities.”
Gen chuckled softly. "It's quite the spectacle, isn't it? A battle of wills between logic and desire. A classic Senku-Ryusui showdown. I wonder if any of their arguments will actually get across to either one of them."
Kaseki, who had been admiring the model with a gentle smile, chuckled. "They have such young spirits. Back and forth like this is fun and a good way to test if an idea is really useful or not." He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "And, well, a casino does sound like a bit of fun, doesn't it? I could break out my snazzy suit! Oh-ho, how wonderful that would be.”
As Senku and Ryusui continued their back-and-forth, their voices rising slightly with each rebuttal, Minami, ever the opportunist, sneaked a photo. The shutter snapped, capturing the moment perfectly. Senku's face was a mixture of exasperation and determination, while Ryusui wore a wide, almost comically eager grin.
"Hey! Don't use that one for your gallery!" Senku protested, pointing a finger at Minami. "I look like a caveman arguing with a parrot! It's not exactly a flattering representation of the Kingdom of Science.”
"Nonsense! It's a fantastic shot!" Minami retorted, waving off his concerns. "The raw emotion, the dynamic composition! It tells a story!"
"The story of two idiots arguing over something pointless? That's a terrible story. Ten billion percent worthless."
Minami shook her head, her smile widening. "Realism is just as important as the perfectly posed shot, Senku. It captures the truth of the moment."
Ryusui, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, finally intervened. "Come now, Senku! What's wrong with a dash of realism? Besides," he added with a wink, "I'm rather curious to see what the photo turns out like." He couldn't help but wonder if the image would capture the intensity of his passion for… well, everything, really. A tiny, irrational part of him even considered trying to bribe Minami for a copy if it was even possible, but he quickly dismissed the thought.
For now, he contented himself with the memory of the moment, the energy of the argument, and the shared passion that ultimately bound them all together. He was building a ship, and with it, a future. Even if that future included a 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘭𝘺 debatable on-board casino. He turned back to his model, a renewed spark in his eyes. There were still details to perfect, and a world to conquer.
Senku groaned, throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine! Do what you want. But don't say I didn't warn you when people start laughing." He sighed dramatically.
Minami giggled, giving Senku a playful shove. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get to be the first one to see it. But I'm sure everyone will love it!”
From there marked the epic journey of the Kingdom of Science's biggest project yet. Each event was signified by photos taken by Minami, each one turning out more perfect than the last. It was truly remarkable the way she could use such an old camera and get perfect shots.
Before long, winter was upon them. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, signaling a new concoction Francois managed to bring back to life from the modern world.
Ryusui sat outside, enjoying the cool breeze. Thanks to the snow no one could work, and that left one option: winter sports! There was so much that could be done and plenty of time to do it.
He'd spent a decent amount of time snowboarding the past couple of days, racing against Yo and Magma whenever they came to challenge him. They lost each time but that was to be expected. His family owned a massive ski resort he'd always spent every winter going to. By now, he was a master of the snow.
Still, he couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Because of the snow Senku spent countless hours inside working on project after project with the excuse that because everyone else was taking a break he had to keep the Kingdom of Science’s progress going. The first few days the snow hit he'd participated in the fun but soon enough he'd retreated to the lab, hardly ever being seen outside of it.
Thanks to this Ryusui never really got the chance to run into Senku. And Ryusui wanted to. Desperately. He wanted to continue to get to know the man behind the science, the reason Senku pushed himself so relentlessly, but it wasn't easy to do that when said man was always hiding away, remaining a ghost, always just out of reach, buried under layers of formulas and contraptions. It was frustrating, like trying to catch smoke.
Lost in thought, Ryusui’s gaze landed on a curious sight: Suika and Ruri, looking wobbly and comical, trying to stay upright on the ice skates Senku had, undoubtedly, engineered. He could hear their giggles and small cries of frustration from where he sat.
Ryusui chuckled. It seemed like even Senku couldn’t resist the allure of a little winter fun, even if indirectly. He pushed himself to his feet, an idea forming. Here was an opportunity for some fun, and perhaps, a distraction from his Senku-related musings.
He strode over to the pond, his boots crunching on the snow. Suika, bless her heart, was flailing her tiny arms, her melon helmet threatening to topple off her head. Ruri was doing a bit better, but still looked awkward and unsure on the ice.
"Having a little trouble, are we?" Ryusui asked, a playful smirk on his face.
Suika, her watermelon helmet askew, looked up with a hopeful expression. "Ryusui! We can't seem to get the hang of these skatey things! You have to help, please!"
Ruri, ever graceful even in her struggling state, offered a polite bow. "Greetings, Ryusui. Senku created these for our enjoyment, but they are proving… challenging."
“Hah! That's an understatement. Skating is one of the harder winter sports to get the hang of, but don’t worry. I know exactly how to help.” he declared with a flourish. He turned to Suika and snapped his fingers, pointing towards her. “First up is you, little Suika!”
He knelt beside Suika, carefully adjusting her stance. "The secret is balance. Shift your weight, keep your eyes forward, and imagine you're gliding on the wind. And don't be afraid to fall. Everyone does at first."
“Okay!”
He spent a few minutes guiding her, showing her how to push off and maintain her balance. “Think of it like walking, but smoother and with a little glide. Trust yourself.”
A few encouraging words and a gentle push later, Suika was hesitantly but steadily gliding across the ice, her face lit up with pure joy. The sight warmed Ryusui's heart. Seeing someone experience such simple, innocent delight was a reward in itself.
Turning his attention to Ruri, he helped her to her feet. "Now, for you, the key is posture. Keep your back straight, eyes forward, and let the skates do the work." He took her hands, demonstrating the proper stance. The contact was surprisingly delicate, her hands small and cool in his.
Her fair skin was dusted with pink from the cold, her focus entirely on her feet. They took a few slow, tentative steps. Ryusui was careful to keep his hand steady, not wanting Ruri to fall due to him putting too much weight behind his hand.
Suddenly, Ruri's foot slipped on a patch of uneven ice. With a gasp, she lost her balance and stumbled forward, directly into Ryusui's arms. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, preventing a painful fall.
Ruri's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "Oh! I am so sorry, Ryusui! I… I lost my footing." Her voice was barely a whisper.
Ryusui, momentarily stunned, quickly recovered and laughed, a genuine, disarming sound. "No harm done, Ruri. Just a little slip. Happens to the best of us." He gently helped her regain her balance, careful to maintain a respectful distance.
Before they could fully separate, a booming voice shattered the peaceful atmosphere. "What the heck do you think you're doing, Ryusui?!"
Ryusui turned, his eyes widening slightly. Chrome stood a few feet away, his brow furrowed in a scowl. He looked ready to explode, as if he'd stumbled upon some grave injustice. Beside him stood Senku, carrying a stack of what looked like wires and glass tubes.
"Relax, Chrome, it's not what it looks like." Ryusui protested, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. His voice was calm and unhurried. He knew what the scene probably looked like to Chrome, but he'd done nothing wrong and acting flustered wouldn't help the situation. He just needed to remain calm. Despite his reputation for always surrounding himself with girls he had no interest in stealing Ruri from Chrome. She was cute, but not really someone he had his eyes set on.
Chrome, however, was having none of it. "Not what it looks like? 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦?! You're practically embracing Ruri! Are you trying to take advantage of her?!" He launched into a tirade, accusing Ryusui of everything from inappropriate behavior to disrupting the flow of scientific progress. He made sure to accuse him of taking advantage of Ruri’s kindness, of being a shameless womanizer, and made it very clear that if he didn't get his hands off Ruri within the next few seconds there would be hell to pay.
Ryusui, however, tuned out Chrome's rant, his attention caught by Senku's expression. For some reason, he seemed… annoyed. Not angry, not even particularly upset, but a distinct flicker of annoyance flashed in his eyes. It was a subtle thing, almost imperceptible, but Ryusui, ever observant, didn't miss it.
The scientist stood silently beside Chrome, his expression clearly different from his usual one. It was a subtle shift, a slight tightening of his lips, a barely perceptible furrow in his brow, but Ryusui noticed it easily. And the most bewildering part was it seemed to be directed not at him but at 𝘙𝘶𝘳𝘪.
Ruri who, in the background, ever the peacemaker, was attempting to calm Chrome down, gently tugging at his sleeve. Ryusui, however, was too focused on Senku to give it much attention. He knew Senku didn’t harbor any romantic feelings for Ruri, that had been clarified back when Ryusui had mistakenly assumed they were still married. So why was he so bothered? So 𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥? It didn't make any sense.
Before Ryusui could formulate a coherent question or even decipher the meaning behind Senku’s expression, Senku interrupted Chrome and Ruri's bickering, his voice sharp. "Alright, alright, that's enough. We've got work to do. Let's go, Chrome. You can work this out later." He shifted the stack of materials in his arms, as if trying to emphasize his point.
He began to turn away, but Ryusui called out to him. "Senku! Why don't you join us for a little break? Some fresh air and a bit of skating would do you good." And give him a chance to figure out what that expression meant, Ryusui silently noted.
Chrome, instantly perking up, chimed in enthusiastically. "Yeah, Senku! Come on! You've been cooped up in that lab for days! Let’s have fun!"
Senku, however, remained unmoved. "No can do. I'm too busy. Got a million things that need to be figured out but you all have fun."
Ryusui pouted, his usual charm failing to make an impact. "Come on, Senku, surely you can spare an hour! You'll get tired of working all day, you need a little bit of fun every now and then. You said it yourself."
Senku sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "I don't have time to get sick, Ryusui. Besides, I'd prefer not to freeze my ass off. You should bundle up a little more yourself, or you'll be coughing up a lung by tomorrow." He gestured dismissively at Ryusui’s open coat.
Before Ryusui could formulate a counter-argument, Senku turned and, with Chrome trailing eagerly behind him, headed back towards the lab.
"We'll see you guys later, then! Be careful!" Chrome called back, waving cheerfully, seemingly forgetting his entire beef with Ryusui moments prior.
Ryusui watched them go, a strange mix of disappointment and frustration swirling within him. He glanced down at his coat, then back at the retreating figures of Senku and Chrome. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly feeling colder than he had just moments before.
It wasn't just the winter air that chilled him. It was the lingering feeling that he was missing something, that Senku was deliberately keeping him at arm’s length. The desire to understand Senku grew even stronger, intertwined now with a hint of something akin to… longing?
He wasn't used to being denied, especially not when he was offering something as enticing as a break from work. He was Nanami Ryusui, after all, and he usually got what he wanted. The puzzle that was Senku was growing more and more intriguing, and Ryusui was determined to solve it, one way or another.
But first, he'd have to get better because just as Senku predicted, the next day he was bedridden.
The day dawned gray and heavy, mirroring the way Ryusui felt. A throbbing hammer pounded against the inside of his skull, each beat echoing the growing misery in his bones. Every muscle ached like he'd spent a week wrestling bears. His throat was a raw, scratchy wasteland, making even the simple act of swallowing feel akin to swallowing sand. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body, and the opulent room that usually soothed him now felt like a cage.
He tried to shift position, hoping to find a fleeting moment of comfort, but the slightest movement sent a wave of nausea crashing over him. Groaning, he sank back into the nest of blankets Francois had painstakingly arranged, the sheets feeling rough against his fevered skin. Even the softest cloth the Kingdom of Science had offered no respite.
His scarred hand throbbed, a constant reminder of his past petrification. Lately, the ache had become a near-constant companion, a dull, persistent thrum that intensified with the cold. Now, fueled by his fever, the pain was an inferno, radiating up his arm and into his shoulder. He clenched his jaw, fighting back a whimper. Even breathing hurt.
Ryusui drifted in and out of consciousness, a turbulent sea of sweat-soaked sheets and shivering chills. Time lost all meaning. He couldn't even muster the energy to get out of bed, and frankly, he didn't want to. Even the thought of moving sent a fresh wave of agony through him.
Only Francois knew of his sickness. He had insisted on keeping it a secret, not wanting to worry the rest of the Kingdom of Science over what he assumed would be a short-lived inconvenience. He remembered his childhood, a time when he was more susceptible to every passing bug. But he always bounced back quickly, a testament to his privileged lifestyle and access to the best care. He hoped this would be the same even though he no longer had top of the line doctors doting over him. He was stronger now than when he was a young, lanky kid.
Francois, ever the loyal butler, had reluctantly agreed, but only under the condition that they could bring Ryusui food and water. Ryusui had readily accepted, he'd never turn down the chance to have Francois's food and frankly the sheer misery of his situation was more than convincing.
It wasn't hunger he felt, though. It was a deep, bone-weary exhaustion, a profound sense of isolation that gnawed at him even more than the pain. He was used to being surrounded by people, to the clamor of activity and the thrill of enterprise. Now, silence reigned, broken only by the occasional soft footfall of Francois and the distant sounds of the bustling village. For once, he wished he’d established his house closer to the village. Maybe then the room wouldn’t be suffocating him in silence.
Francois faithfully delivered trays of bland, easily digestible food and cool cloths to press against his burning forehead. Ryusui could barely manage a few bites and sips before fatigue overwhelmed him again. The world felt muffled and distant, as if he were submerged underwater.
Then came day three. He was expecting Francois, the familiar flap of the door latch a signal of impending, albeit limited, relief. He was hoping Francois had a fresh cup of tea, his throat begging for some kind of soothing agent, but when the figure entered the room, their silhouette seemed… different. Taller, perhaps. Maybe he was more delirious than he'd thought.
"Francois?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.
The figure approached, and Ryusui's blurry vision began to piece together the features. It wasn't Francois. The tall, lanky silhouette, the wild, spiky hair… it was… Senku.
His fever spiked, and the world tilted violently. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the hallucination. "Sen…ku?" he mumbled, the name catching in his raw throat.
"Took you long enough to notice," Senku's voice was clipped, betraying an underlying concern. He moved with a focused efficiency, immediately assessing Ryusui's condition. "So this is where you disappeared to. You idiot, I told you you'd get sick. Should've listened to me."
Ryusui was too far gone to process the reprimand. Senku's words were just a jumble of sounds, lost in the roaring of his fever. He felt a cool hand on his forehead, a sharp contrast to the inferno raging within him. Ryusui flinched at the contact.
"You're burning up," Senku said, his voice sharp. "Francois told me you've been sick for days, and didn't want me, or anyone really, knowing. The hell is up with this secrecy bullshit? It's ten billion percent illogical."
Ryusui couldn't follow Senku's words very well, but he did catch the gist of it. He was sick. Senku was here. He was getting yelled at with the efficiency of a seasoned nurse.
Just great.
For the next couple of days, Senku was a tireless, if somewhat grumpy, caretaker. He monitored Ryusui's temperature, forced him to drink hydration fluids, and even created a foul-tasting concoction that Ryusui vaguely recognized as some kind of ancient herbal remedy.
Senku didn't let up; he was ruthless about Ryusui taking his medicine. Ryusui was still in a haze, barely registering the world around him. He'd moan and groan, shifting restlessly, and Senku would just sigh, adjust the blankets, and continue his relentless care.
At some point the pain radiating from Ryusui’s hand began to reach unprecedented heights, his whole body tensing and spasming as he writhed in pain. He’d open his mouth but no sound would come out. He knew someone was there, watching, listening. He was vaguely aware of the person talking to him but the words never registered; his mind was nothing but a white flash of pain.
Then, suddenly the pain began to disappear. He wasn’t sure what had caused it but he knew it had something to do with a cool substance that was placed on his scarred skin. It burned, but not in the way his hand usually did. It was more of a burn you’d feel being caused by medicine. He didn’t know what the person did exactly and honestly he didn’t care. He just knew he was grateful for the pain to have subsided.
Finally, on the fourth day of Senku's vigilant care taking, fever dreams came in like crashing waves to a rocky shore.
One moment Ryusui was thirteen again, standing in the center of the Nanami mansion ballroom while executives twice his age looked down at him with thinly veiled disdain. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, reflecting against polished marble floors so spotless he could see his own warped reflection staring back up at him. His uncle’s voice echoed through the massive hall, sharp and cold.
“Greed is unbecoming of a successor.”
The words wrapped around his throat like chains, digging into his windwipe and snatching the air from his lungs with no mercy.
Then the scene shifted violently.
Ocean waves slammed against the hull of a yacht beneath a thunder-black sky. Rain lashed against his face. Lightning split the heavens apart, illuminating towering walls of water. Ryusui gripped the wheel with both hands, laughing wildly into the storm even as the wind threatened to rip him apart.
“Faster!” he shouted into the roar of the sea. “Come on! Give me more!”
But the wheel suddenly crumbled beneath his fingers into brittle stone.
Cracks spread up his arms.
𝘕𝘰.
A green light illuminated the previously black sky.
Petrification.
Cold.
Silent.
𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯—𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚.
The ocean vanished.
𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱.
Darkness swallowed everything whole.
𝙉𝙊—
Ryusui jerked awake with a strangled gasp, his chest heaving. Sweat soaked through the blankets tangled around him, damp curls sticking to his forehead. His vision blurred and doubled, fever making the room swim.
The wood roof above him shifted in and out of focus.
His hand hurt.
𝘎𝘰𝘥, his hand hurt.
The scarred skin along his fingers burned so fiercely it felt like someone had driven molten metal beneath his flesh. He clenched his jaw hard enough for pain to lance through his teeth, a weak sound escaping him anyway despite his best efforts.
“Hh—”
Immediately, movement.
A thud echoed quietly against the wooden floor.
“There you are,” Senku muttered.
Ryusui turned his head sluggishly. Senku sat beside the bed with his sleeves rolled up, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. Several bowls and crude glass bottles littered the nearby table alongside stacks of notes written in Senku’s messy handwriting. A small oil lamp flickered beside him, casting gold light across the room.
Ryusui blinked slowly.
Senku looked terrible.
His hair was even more disheveled than usual, which Ryusui hadn’t previously believed possible. There was dried herbal residue smeared faintly across one of his sleeves, and he looked like he hadn't slept properly in days.
Ryusui frowned weakly. “Y’look like shit.”
Senku snorted. “Glad to know your brain still works.”
Ryusui attempted a laugh, but it dissolved into a rough coughing fit. Pain tore through his throat and chest. Before he could even attempt to sit up properly, Senku was already moving.
A hand pressed firmly between his shoulder blades.
“Easy, idiot.”
Another hand steadied a cup against his lips. Cool water touched his mouth.
“Drink.”
Ryusui obeyed automatically, too exhausted to argue. The water tasted faintly metallic, probably boiled and treated somehow. Senku always found a way to make even primitive things efficient.
Once the coughing subsided, Ryusui slumped back against the pillows with a groan.
Senku clicked his tongue. “You’re lucky your fever finally started dropping. Another day and you might’ve cooked your own brain.”
“Hah… my brain’s too valuable t’lose.”
“Your ego survived too. What a miracle.”
Ryusui managed a weak smirk at that.
The room fell quiet except for the crackling lamp and distant winter wind brushing against the walls of the hut.
Then another wave of pain hit.
Ryusui’s entire arm spasmed violently.
His breath caught sharply.
Senku’s expression changed instantly.
The scientist leaned forward, all traces of teasing gone. “Hand again?”
Ryusui didn’t answer quickly enough.
That was answer enough.
“Tch.”
Senku stood and immediately began rummaging through the cluttered table beside him. Ryusui watched through half-lidded eyes as Senku worked with practiced precision, crushing herbs together inside a stone bowl before mixing them with a dark liquid that smelled sharply medicinal.
Even sick and half-delirious, Ryusui found himself staring.
Senku moved fast.
Not recklessly fast like Chrome sometimes did when excitement overtook him, nor elegantly like Francois. Senku moved with absolute certainty. Every action had purpose. Every motion flowed seamlessly into the next. It reminded Ryusui of watching master engineers in shipyards before the petrification.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
If Ryusui had met Senku in the old world—
No.
Not just met him.
Ryusui would’ve fought to hire him.
Would’ve dragged him straight into Nanami Corporation and handed him every resource imaginable just to see what impossible things he could create. The thought came so naturally that Ryusui almost laughed.
Instead he hissed as Senku grabbed his wrist.
“This’ll sting.”
“Wonderful warning,” Ryusui muttered weakly.
Then Senku pressed the medicine against the cracked scar tissue.
White-hot pain exploded through Ryusui’s hand. He jerked violently, nearly wrenching away, but Senku’s grip tightened immediately.
“Hold still.”
“You call this medicine?!”
“You wanna keep your hand functioning or not?”
Ryusui glared at him through watery eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Ten billion percent not.”
Liar.
Senku absolutely looked a little smug.
Still, the burning slowly eased after several moments, replaced by cool numbness that spread through the ruined nerves. Ryusui sagged in relief against the pillows.
“There,” Senku said quietly. “Better?”
Ryusui exhaled shakily. “…Yeah.”
Senku hummed in acknowledgment and began carefully wrapping fresh cloth around his hand.
Ryusui watched him in silence.
It was strange.
Senku’s hands were rougher than they looked. Calloused from constant labor and experimentation. Small scars littered his fingers from burns and accidents accumulated over months of rebuilding civilization from nothing. Yet despite that, his touch remained unexpectedly careful.
Precise.
Gentle, even.
Like he was handling something fragile.
Ryusui’s chest tightened oddly at the realization.
Senku noticed him staring. “What?”
Ryusui blinked slowly. “Nothin’.”
“Hm.”
Senku clearly didn’t believe him, but let it go.
Exhaustion dragged at Ryusui again not long after. His thoughts blurred at the edges. The fever still lingered enough to leave him floating somewhere between consciousness and dreams.
He vaguely became aware of Senku adjusting the blankets around him.
“Your temperature’s still unstable,” Senku muttered mostly to himself. “Annoying.”
Ryusui smiled faintly without opening his eyes. “You worried?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Mm.”
A pause.
Then quieter:
“Just can’t have our navigator dying before we cross the ocean.”
There it was.
Logic.
Practicality.
That explanation should’ve satisfied him completely.
So why did the answer feel… strangely incomplete?
Before Ryusui could think further, sleep dragged him under once more.
This dream was warmer.
Sunlight spilled across polished wooden decks.
The scent of saltwater and expensive cologne lingered in the air as a younger Ryusui stood aboard one of his family’s luxury ships. The ocean stretched endlessly around him, sparkling beneath the afternoon sun.
He remembered this day.
His first solo navigation test.
Executives had watched from the upper deck expecting failure. Waiting for him to embarrass himself. Instead, he’d maneuvered through dangerous currents flawlessly.
He remembered the exhilaration.
The freedom.
Then suddenly another presence stood beside him at the helm.
𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘶.
Not stone world Senku.
Modern world Senku.
Lab coat flapping violently in the sea wind, eyes sharp and bright with impossible intelligence.
“Your route sucks,” dream-Senku said immediately.
Ryusui barked out a laugh. “And hello to you too.”
“You’re wasting fuel compensating for current drift. Shift five degrees west.”
Ryusui rolled his eyes but adjusted the wheel anyway. Instantly the ship surged smoother through the water.
“Hah!” Ryusui grinned. “I really should hire you.”
“In your dreams.”
Ryusui blinked.
The ocean cracked apart beneath them.
Stone spread across the deck.
Darkness swallowed everything again.
When he woke next, he was shaking violently.
𝗖𝗼𝗹𝗱.
So unbearably cold.
His teeth chattered despite the blankets piled on top of him. Fever sweat clung damply to his skin while chills tore through his body hard enough to hurt.
A hand touched his forehead immediately.
“Tch. Fever spiked again.”
Senku’s voice.
Ryusui forced heavy eyes open. Outside, darkness blanketed the village. Snow tapped softly against the hut walls.
“How long…” Ryusui rasped.
“Middle of the night.”
Senku was still here.
Of course he was.
Ryusui frowned weakly. “Thought you hated wasting time.”
“I do.”
“Then why’re y’still ‘ere?”
Senku paused. For a second, real hesitation crossed his face. Then he scoffed lightly. “Because if you stop breathing, Francois’ll probably kill me.”
Ryusui laughed weakly despite himself, immediately regretting it when coughing overtook him again.
Senku sighed. “Idiot.”
But he stayed.
He always stayed.
Hours blurred together after that.
Sometimes Ryusui drifted half-awake to the sound of Senku scribbling notes nearby. Other times he woke to cool cloths being replaced against his forehead or bitter medicine forced into his hands.
Once, sometime near dawn, he surfaced just enough to hear Senku muttering irritably under his breath while grinding herbs.
“Stubborn rich bastard…” Senku grumbled. “Hides symptoms for days, probably thought sheer ego would cure him…”
Ryusui smiled weakly into the blankets.
The next time he awoke, his fever had begun to break. The world was still hazy, but the throbbing in his head had subsided to a dull ache. He felt weak and drained, but the crushing weight of the illness had lifted.
He blinked, trying to focus his vision. The room was dim, lit only by the weak winter sun filtering through the curtains. He looked around, disoriented. Initially, the room appeared vacant. Then, he spotted Senku slumped against the wall, his head lolling to the side while notes spilled across his lap, fast asleep.
Confusion washed over Ryusui. Why was Senku here? In 𝘩𝘪𝘴 room? The fragmented memories of the past few days flickered through his mind: flashes of cool hands, bitter medicine, and a constant stream of… Senku? He'd thought it was Francois, his mind completely muddled with illness.
A strange warmth Ryusui couldn’t identify spread through his chest, eclipsing the lingering discomfort of his illness. Senku, the biggest workaholic he’s ever met, had stayed to nurse him back to health.
Admittedly, the sight startled Ryusui more than it should have.
Senku never stopped moving.
Never stopped thinking.
Yet here he was, asleep from exhaustion because he’d spent days caring for someone else.
For him.
The realization settled strangely heavy inside Ryusui’s chest.
Not unpleasant.
Just… unfamiliar.
He couldn't fully comprehend why Senku decided to do all this, but the gesture touched him deeply. In the end, he chalked it up to the fact that Senku didn't want to lose his captain and navigator for the ship.
After all, the past couple of months would be pointless for Senku and the Kingdom of Science if he kicked the bucket over a small cold. It was the only logical explanation Ryusui could come up with (heavily influenced by Senku’s own words during his care giving.) He was the only one who could captain the ship, the only one with the knowledge and experience to navigate the treacherous waters and wind currents ahead. Senku wouldn't want to lose his captain to a simple cold. It was purely pragmatic, a calculated decision to ensure the success of his grand plan.
Ryusui smirked, a familiar sense of self-assurance returning. Of course, that had to be it. Senku was too logical, too focused on his goals to be motivated by anything else. The only reason Senku had checked on him in the past was because it had the added benefit of seeing how the ship's model was progressing.
Sure, Senku cared, but it was in the way any normal human being would care for someone; it wasn’t due to some deep connection between them. Despite this conclusion, Ryusui couldn't help but feel a grudging sense of gratitude and fondness. Senku had cared for him, not out of affection, but out of necessity. And that was enough.
He chuckled softly, the sound a little rough from disuse but nonetheless genuine. Senku looked incredibly uncomfortable, shivering slightly in the cold. The room wasn't exactly toasty, and Senku hadn't even bothered to find a blanket for himself—all the blankets seemingly haven been given to Ryusui.
Ryusui carefully got out of bed, his legs a little shaky beneath him. He walked over to where Senku was sleeping and gently draped his own blanket over him. Senku didn't stir, his breathing remaining deep and even.
"Hypocrite," Ryusui muttered, his voice low, but laced with affection. "Tellin’ me to stay warm, and you don't even bundle up yourself."
He paused, studying Senku's sleeping face. There was a vulnerability there, a hint of the exhaustion that he usually masked with his sharp wit and unwavering confidence.
Ryusui shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. He didn't understand Senku, not really. But he knew that beneath the layers of logic and pragmatism, there was something else, something that made him care, something that made him go out of his way to help a stubborn, infuriating, and admittedly, rather foolish, friend.
He turned and walked towards the door, leaving Senku to his rest. There'd be plenty of time later to talk to Senku, right now the scientist deserved to rest.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just like before with the hand, Ryusui and Senku didn't really talk about the few days Senku played nurse. Instead, they went back to their usual dynamic. Although Ryusui couldn't help but notice Senku coming out of his lab a little more in the following cold months, even seeking him out on occasion. It brought a small smile to his lips every time.
Sadly, however, before long the snow was melting. Just as quickly as winter appeared it disappeared and in came a fresh wave of warm weather and sunny skies. But that wasn't to say all fun was lost. Surprisingly as the days stayed a constant thrum of warmth with no snow Senku began planning for something.
Ryusui hadn't pried; the unspoken truce between them, forged by the quiet days of nursing, still held firm. But curiosity, a trait just as inherent to Ryusui as greed, gnawed at him.
However, the opportunity to satiate that curiosity presented itself unexpectedly. He'd been strolling past the lab, contemplating the best way to acquire a new shipment of high-quality silk, when he heard Senku's voice floating out from within. Intrigued, he paused, leaning closer.
"...Electrolysis gets us ozone, and with a dash of bay leaves, we get some nice vanilla essence to work with for baking," Senku was saying, his tone animated, not lecturing, but explaining with genuine enthusiasm.
Ryusui recognized that tone. It was the one Senku used when he was truly excited about something, the one that made even the most mundane scientific process sound like a grand adventure.
"Is that really what you gotta do to make chocolate?" Yuzuriha's voice responded, laced with a mixture of awe and disbelief.
A beat. Ryusui felt a flicker of surprise. Chocolate? Senku was… 𝗯𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴?
Senku snorted. "Grinding up red peas into a powder gets us pretty damn close to that cacao flavor. Add some nuts for bitterness, and a little vanilla essence, and we've got chocolate substitute. It's stupidly simple."
Ryusui's eyebrows shot up. Chocolate substitute. Obviously, true cacao beans were still beyond their reach. But the ingenuity… the sheer audacity of Senku trying to recreate this delicious treat in the Stone World… It was intriguing. What need would Senku have for chocolate?
Then, Gen chimed in, his voice laced with his usual playful drawl, "Ah, we're doing Valentine's Day! Smart work, Senku. I was wondering why you were gathering so much food supplies. Events like this are important, too. Think of the drago we'll make—I mean, it's a huge boost for morale."
Ryusui nearly choked. Valentine's Day? Senku? The man who couldn't fathom the logic of romantic love was spearheading a celebration of it? It was so wildly unexpected, so absolutely absurd, that Ryusui had to stifle a laugh. He'd have bet his entire fortune that Gen would've been the one scheming a day centered around affection for profit and morale. The idea that Senku was the mastermind was… utterly delightful.
An idea sparked in his mind. If Senku was going to painstakingly recreate chocolate, then Ryusui would provide the perfect stage for its debut. Presentation was everything, after all.
He slipped away, a plan forming in his mind. The first step: secure an expert. And for matters concerning the local flora and fauna, there was no one better than the Kingdom of Science’s very own detective: Suika.
Finding her was easy. She was usually flitting around the village, her watermelon helmet bobbing as she investigated every new discovery. He found her examining a cluster of wildflowers, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Suika," he boomed, his voice carrying through the air. "I require your expertise! You’re the only one I can count on!"
Suika startled, nearly tripping over her own feet. "Ryusui!" she exclaimed, righting herself. “What can I help with? Is it something really important? Because Suika can definitely handle it!”
Ryusui smirked, his eyes alighting with excitement. He explained his plan, the need for decorations, the desire to make a grand entrance for the big reveal of chocolate but being unable to do it without a knowledgeable assistant. Suika's eyes widened with their own excitement. She knew every hidden grove, every patch of colorful leaves, every source of natural dyes in their area. She was the perfect ally and more than willing to help. If it meant she could be useful she’d be more than willing to lend a hand. Plus, she’d never heard of chocolate before and couldn’t wait to try it!
From there, Ryusui’s plan was put into action. The next couple of days you could find him and Suika running all over the village carrying large baskets full of all sorts of things. Most people didn’t pay Suika any mind but there were a few people (Cough, 𝘎𝘦𝘯) who were wary of Ryusui’s actions, unsure if he was plotting some evil scheme to make more Drago. Ryusui paid them no mind of course, the only thing that mattered to him was accomplishing his goal. And then, as he and Suika were gathering materials one day, a small voice piped up.
"Can I help too?"
They turned to see Mirai, Tsukasa's little sister standing before them, her voice quiet, barely above a whisper. She'd been quietly observing them, her hands clasped behind her back. Her feet shifted with nerves, her eyes downturned as if she was more than prepared to be told no and sent away. Ryusui, charmed by her innocent eagerness to help, couldn't refuse. "Of course, the more hands the better!" he declared.
And so, an unlikely trio was formed. Ryusui, the extravagant incarnation of greed; Suika, the village naturalist; and Mirai, the quiet observer fueled by eager innocence. They spent days gathering leaves, berries, and flowers, carefully drying and pressing them. They learned to extract natural dyes from roots and seeds, creating a vibrant palette of colors.
Mirai, surprisingly, possessed a knack for arranging the decorations, creating intricate patterns with a delicate touch. Suika provided a wealth of information on which plants were best suited for their purpose, ensuring the decorations would last. Ryusui, fueled by his artistic nature, oversaw the entire project, his vision driving their creations.
One afternoon, as they were engrossed in their work, Gen sauntered over, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, isn't this a cute sight?" he remarked, leaning against a nearby tree. "Gotta say, you have a way with kids, Ryusui."
Ryusui laughed, waving off the compliment. "They're simply assisting me. But you should join us, Gen! We could use more hands."
Gen recoiled dramatically. "Oh no, no, I couldn't possibly be of any help. My talents lie elsewhere. Me helping would be a errible-tay idea! I don’t even know what you three are doing!"
But Suika and Mirai, eager to have another person join in on the fun, started begging him to join. "Please, Gen! It's so much fun!" Suika pleaded, her voice small but insistent as she tugged on his sleeve.
“Yeah! It'd be amazing if you helped!” Mirai added, her eyes wide like a puppy's. “Pretty please~”
Gen, unable to resist the combined force of their pleading gazes, sighed in resignation. "Okay, okay," he relented. "But don't expect miracles."
And just like that, Gen was roped into the Valentine's Day decoration project. He turned out to be surprisingly adept at crafting intricate paper flowers, his nimble fingers creating delicate blooms with remarkable speed. And of course, he was more than happy to take on any role, as long as it meant being involved in the fun.
Soon, more and more of the village children joined in, their laughter and chatter filling the air. Even Ruri, usually occupied with her duties as priestess, found time to contribute, meticulously crafting tiny origami hearts. It had become a village-wide project, a celebration of creativity and community spirit.
Finally, Valentine's Day arrived. Ryusui, Mirai, and Suika, beaming with pride, were seen carrying a large wooden board laden with presents. Each box was adorned with their handcrafted decorations, filled with the chocolate substitute that Senku and his team had produced with such painstaking effort. They went from person to person, handing out the gifts with genuine warmth.
As the afternoon wore on, and the stack of presents dwindled, Gen sauntered over, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, you three look like you're having un-fay." He paused. "Anyone get any chocolate for themselves?"
Suika and Mirai shook their heads, their faces alight with the joy of giving. "No, but that's okay," Suika said. "We're having fun anyway!"
Ryusui chuckled. "What are you talking about?" He turned to the girls and reached behind the stack of presents. “Everyone deserves chocolate on Valentine's Day." He produced two beautifully decorated boxes and handed them to Suika and Mirai. "Go on, enjoy yourselves! I'll take it from here.”
“Really!? Thank you, Ryusui!” Suika exclaimed, rushing over and grabbing the boxes from his hand. She turned and quickly gave one to Mirai before turning back to Ryusui and giving him a big hug around his legs. “You’re the best! I have to show the others!” And with that she was off, dragging Mirai behind her, their laughter echoing through the village. Ryusui chuckled at the excitement and turned back to the remaining presents, a sense of satisfaction washing over him.
"Someone's generous," Gen purred, leaning against a nearby tree. “Not something you’d usually see from someone so greedy.”
Ryusui raised an eyebrow, turning back to find Gen staring at him, his knowing smirk widening. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, nothing," Gen said innocently. "Just didn't realize you had such a soft side. It's so dorable-ay."
Ryusui scoffed. "Hah! I'm not soft. I simply desire for everyone to enjoy some delicious chocolate. Plus,” his face contorted into an evil smirk, his whole body language turning shady. “The more people learn the true deliciousness of chocolate the more they'll require drago! Hahaha!”
Gen snickered. "Of course, of course. I knew there had to be an ulterior motive to your eagerness to promote chocolate. Though, your reasoning seems to include everyone but you, apparently."
"I don't need chocolate when I have Francois," Ryusui retorted, thinking of the extravagant meals that awaited him everyday. Any demand he made was always met with no hesitance. Who could ask for more? He could have as much chocolate along with any other kind of dessert as much as he wanted!
Gen hummed in agreement, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But are you 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 you didn't get any?" He pressed, a hint of curiosity in his voice.
Ryusui frowned, his brow furrowing. He stared at Gen more closely, trying to read his expression, but the mentalist gave nothing away. After a second, weighing the pros and cons of answering, he relented. "Positive." He responded, his voice airing on the side of caution.
"Hm, okay," Gen said, his tone still laced with amusement. "If you're sure..." He trailed off, his gaze lingering on Ryusui's face for a moment too long. Just long enough to feel like Gen knew more than he was letting on.
Ryusui didn't trust that look for one second. Gen was up to something, but what? He couldn't say. All he did know was that whatever it was wouldn't bow well for him. Nothing ever did when Gen got that look.
Just as he was about to demand an explanation, Gen suddenly clapped his hands together. "Well, look at the time! I have important matters to attend to. I was just stopping by to see how things were going and to make sure you weren’t overpricing the chocolate. Please, continue the onderful-way work." He winked and strolled away, leaving Ryusui thoroughly perplexed.
Ryusui debated trying to chase Gen down, his unease only growing, but thought better of it after a moment. There were still chocolates to give out and even if he did chase Gen down chances were he wouldn't get an answer to his questions anyway.
So, he continued his work. Soon enough, the chocolates were all delivered as the day drew to a close and Ryusui returned to his home, a satisfied exhaustion settling over him. He opened the door and stopped dead in his tracks. On his table was a small present box, adorned with the most plain design he'd seen all day. Definitely not one of his.
He froze, confusion warring with a strange sense of anticipation. He stared at it for a long while, his brow furrowed. He hadn't received a present all day and now there was one in his house? He couldn’t think of anyone who'd feel the need to hide their affection from him, so who..?
He cautiously approached the box, his heart beating a little faster. He carefully lifted the lid and stared blankly. Inside, stacked neatly, was a generous pile of chocolate. More than he’d thought could fit in the small box.
He scanned the room, but no one was there. He racked his brain, trying to imagine who might have left it for him. A strange, inexplicable thought flickered through his mind: 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘬𝘶. He immediately dismissed it as absurd, berating himself for such a foolish notion.
He decided it was probably Francois, who wished to ensure he was well fed and included in the activities, and pushed those thoughts away, deciding to simply enjoy the unexpected treat.
The next morning, Gen found Ryusui enjoying a stroll through the village. “So, Ryusui,” he began, his voice smooth as silk, “did you end up having any chocolate last night?”
Ryusui hesitated, acutely aware of Gen’s probing gaze as a prickle of discomfort ran down his spine. "Yes," he admitted, watching Gen's expression closely. Could Gen be the one who…? No. That was absurd.
Gen's smirk deepened. "And who gave you this mysterious chocolate?
Ryusui sighed. “No clue.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why? Do you know something?”
Gen smiled, holding up his hands in an innocent gesture. “Who, me? I know nothing! I'm simply curious.” His expression shifted, a hint of disappointment flickering across his face. “But really? You didn’t think of anyone when you first saw it?”
Ryusui frowned, a quiet moment passing where he thought back to the moment he saw the chocolate. The moment where for a split second he thought of Senku.
Gen’s eyes widened, his smirk returning with renewed vigor. “You did, didn’t you?” He chuckled, leaning in closer to Ryusui. “How fascinating! Maybe, and this is just a thought, that says something? Perhaps holds a deeper meaning?”
Ryusui, caught off guard, opened his mouth to demand Gen tell him what he was getting at, but at that moment, Ginro’s triumphant shout echoed through the village. “I finally got chocolate!”
Distracted, Ryusui turned his head, a flicker of genuine amusement crossing his face. When he looked back, Gen was gone, leaving him with a tangle of unsettling thoughts.
Thoughts he knew he wouldn't be able to unravel in the near future. He debated chasing after Gen for a moment but quickly discarded the idea, accepting he'd only waste his time. Gen would never outright tell him the truth. The only thing he could do now was wait to find out what exactly those words meant. One way or another he was sure he'd figure it out.
Eventually.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The salt-laced wind whipped at Ryusui's face as he strolled along the newly constructed dock, the skeletal frame of the Perseus looming large behind him. He was on his habitual inspection, making sure every rope was taut, every plank secure. The ship was his ambition made reality, a gleaming promise on the horizon. He relished these moments of quiet contemplation, the murmur of the waves a soothing counterpoint to the ceaseless activity of the Kingdom of Science.
As he neared the water's edge, a rogue wave crashed against the rocks, sending a shower of seawater over him. Ryusui sputtered, swatting at his soaked clothes, initially annoyed by the intrusion. Then, an idea struck him with the force of the wave itself: 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨.
They were surrounded by the ocean, the ultimate playground, and yet… they were landlocked, attire-wise. He hadn't considered the necessity of proper swimwear! Water equaled swimming, but swimming without swimsuits felt incomplete, almost barbaric.
A grin stretched across Ryusui's face, his opportunistic mind already racing. The Kingdom of Science deserved proper attire to bask in the glory of the seven seas and he knew exactly how to provide.
The first step was acquiring the raw materials, and silk was the obvious choice. Only the best swimwear would be allowed to grace this new world. And so, with a flash of his trademark persuasive charm, he secured a sizable group of people like Ginro, Kinro, Yo, and so on to help gather a significant quantity of silkmoths and their precious product. Next stop: Yuzuriha.
He found her in her workshop, surrounded by fabrics and half-finished projects, her brow furrowed in concentration.
“Yuzuriha! I have a proposition for you! A project of utmost importance, demanding your unparalleled skill and keen eye for aesthetics!" Ryusui announced, bursting through the door.
Yuzuriha, accustomed to Ryusui's grand entrances by now, calmly set down her tools. She raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Let me guess, it involves looking good while doing something practical?"
"Precisely!" Ryusui beamed. "Swimsuits, Yuzuriha! We need swimsuits! The finest silk, crafted by your very hands, to adorn the bodies of our crew as they conquer the waves!"
Yuzuriha's eyes widened, a spark of excitement igniting within them. She loved creating, and the idea of designing swimwear for everyone filled her with so much enthusiasm she could barely stand still.
"Swimsuits! Oh, Ryusui, that's a wonderful idea! I have so many design ideas already! For starters—" She was instantly sketching in her notebook, a flurry of lines and curves bringing various styles to life. Ryusui watched, his grin widening, knowing he had chosen the perfect artisan.
The following days were a flurry of activity. Yuzuriha, fueled by Ryusui's enthusiasm and her own passion for design, worked tirelessly. She experimented with different weaves and cuts, crafting swimsuits that were both practical and aesthetically pleasing. Soon, the entire crew was outfitted in custom-made silk swimwear, each piece reflecting their personality.
The beach was transformed into a vibrant scene of laughter and splashing. Ryusui, lounging on a makeshift beach chair, surveyed the scene with satisfaction. He felt a pang of pride seeing the crew, usually focused on laborious tasks, finally relaxing and enjoying the fruits of their collective efforts. But something was missing. A certain head of spiky green-white hair, usually obscured by calculations and blueprints was nowhere to be seen. Senku was missing. A sigh escaped his lips. Of course he was.
Leaving behind the party, Ryusui tracked down the missing scientist. He found him exactly where he expected: hunched over a workbench near the workshop, surrounded by blueprints and half-assembled contraptions, his eyes bloodshot. It looked like he hadn't slept in days. Typical Senku, really.
Ryusui approached, a small smile settling across his features before being replaced with his usual smirk. "There you are Senku! Shouldn't you be enjoying the new swim suits Yuzuriha made with the rest of us?"
Senku didn't even bother to look up. He just grunted, "Nope. Too busy. Go bother someone else,” his voice raspy from disuse.
Ryusui chuckled, unfazed by Senku's gruffness. "Nonsense. A scientist needs rest and relaxation just as much as anyone else. Think of it as… fuel for future innovation! Besides," he added with a sly grin, "you’re brain is going to short-circuit if you keep going like this nonstop."
At that, Senku finally glanced up, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "I don't need a swimsuit or ‘relaxation.' I need to finish calibrating the navigation system."
“I thought you might say that.” Ryusui, ignoring Senku’s previous protests, reached down and effortlessly hoisted Senku onto his shoulder. Senku squawked in surprise, dropping his tools with a clatter.
"Hey! What are you doing? Put me down, you money-grubbing imbecile!"
Ryusui simply laughed, ignoring Senku's struggles as he carried him out of the lab and towards the beach. "Relax, Senku! A little sunshine and saltwater will do you good!"
As they approached the beach, Ryusui bellowed, "Yuzuriha! Fetch Senku's swimsuit! Our resident genius is finally gracing us with his presence!"
Yuzuriha, hearing the commotion, rushed over, a neatly folded swimsuit in her hands. "Oh, you managed to bring him! That's wonderful!"
Senku, finally set down on the sand, sputtered, "I have work to do! This is highly illogical!"
Ryusui clapped him on the shoulder, a genuine note of concern in his voice. "Senku, you've been working non-stop for days. I can tell. You need a break. Spend some time with your friends, enjoy the ocean. It's a proven fact that human brains retain memory, have better creativity and overall mental performance with proper amounts of sleep and rest, which is what you need right now, am I wrong?"
Taiju rushed to Senku's side, his eyes filled with concern. "Senkuuu! Ryusui's right! You need to relax! Come on, just for a little while! Pleaseee!"
Senku opened his mouth, obviously ready to argue, but was cut off as Yuzuriha grabbed his hands, her eyes pleading. "Senku, please don't argue. Come join us. We're all having so much fun, and we want you to be a part of it!"
Before Senku could say anything to 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, Kohaku, Chrome, and even Gen joined in the chorus of pleas, their voices a mixture of persuasion and genuine concern.
“She’s right, Senku! Plus, these swimsuits Yuzuriha made are so bad! You have to put one on and go for a swim! She worked so hard!” Chrome shouted, his enthusiasm radiating off him in waves.
“Come now, Senku, surely taking a small break won't impede the Kingdom of Science's progress too greatly?” Gen purred, his eyes alight with a mixture of mischievousness and smugness. “Wouldn't you agree operating at less than a hundred percent would do more harm than good?”
“He's right, you know,” Kohaku chimed in, crossing her arms and smirking. “If you don't spend the day with us you'll just end up doing more harm than good, so don't be lame.”
Senku, faced with the combined force of their concern, sighed heavily. "Fine, fine! Just stop begging me. I'll stay for a little while, jeez."
And so, Senku, reluctantly clad in his new swimsuit, found himself swept up in the beachside festivities. He watched, a bemused expression on his face, as the others splashed and played, their laughter echoing in the air. Perhaps this wouldn’t be all bad.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the beach, Ryusui found a spot on the sand to relax. He closed his eyes, basking in the warmth, a feeling of contentment washing over him. He managed to bring everyone's spirits up with a beach day and even managed to drag Senku out of his lab—something he’d been wanting to do for a while now. All things considered it was a good day. Now all he had to do was sit there and get a good tan with the remaining sun rays and everything would—
Suddenly, he was doused with a bucket of water. He sputtered, sitting up and glaring at his attacker, ready to shout before spotting the person behind his unexpected shower. Suika stood there, makeshift bucket in hand, as she smiled up at him with pure innocence. Next to her stood Senku, a mischievous grin on his face. The smug bastard.
“That’s what you get for letting your guard down, Ryusui," Senku said, his voice laced with amusement. “You wanted me to have fun so now you get to suffer the consequences. What was it you said, everyone needs to spend a little time in the water? It only seems fair that applies to you too. Isn't that right, Suika?”
“Yeah!” She shouted, her smile blinding. “That was really fun!”
“Heh, I bet it was.” Senku agreed easily. “And due to your successful ambush I hereby award you ten billion points.” He raised his hand up to which Suika, without hesitation, jumped to hit.
“Yay! I got to be useful and have fun! This is the best day ever!”
“You sure did good,” Senku agreed, bringing his hands to rest on his hips. He glanced off to the side, spotting a spot further down the beach to make his escape to. “Well, now that our work here's done we should—”
Ryusui threw his head back and laughed a loud, full hearted laugh that sliced through the air like a knife. "Oh, you think you can get away with that, Senku? This means war!"
“Now just wait a second—”
“Haha! You better run, Senku! Ryusui’s going to get you!” Suika cheered.
And with that, the chase began. Ryusui, unsurprisingly agile, was up in a flash heading straight for Senku. Said genius was already beginning to run away as fast as his legs could go. Even with the head start however, Ryusui pursued Senku across the sand, dodging startled beachgoers, with ease. Senku tried his best to stay out of Ryusui’s reach, however, was no match for the blonde’s energy. After a few seconds, he stumbled, gasping for breath.
"Time out! Time out!" he croaked, sinking to his knees.
Ryusui, not even winded, collapsed beside him, his laughter subsiding into contented chuckles. They sat in silence for a moment, watching the others splash around in the receding tide as Senku’s breathing became more even.
Finally, after a good two minutes or so, Senku turned to Ryusui. His expression was uncharacteristically soft. "Thanks, Ryusui," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "For dragging me out here."
Ryusui, as embarrassing as it was to admit, simply stared, mouth slightly agape. It wasn't often that Senku showed his emotions unguarded, especially gratitude. So to say this was a shock was an understatement. What struck him even more was that Senku was genuinely smiling.
𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘵. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦, a small voice spoke up in the back of his mind. He averted his gaze, a slight blush creeping up his neck. He wasn't quite sure why he was blushing but chopped it up to the heat of the sun. After all, what else could it be?
"Don't mention it," he scoffed, trying to regain his composure. "I was just returning the favor. Plus, someone has to keep you from turning into a complete workaholic. You know, you really need to loosen up now and then, Senku. I get wanting to constantly chase your desires but you have to remember to take breaks every once and a while. Take it from the greediest man alive! I know best!"
Senku just chuckled and looked back to his friends. They definitely all needed this. A genuine break, a moment to relax, they earned it. He just never really thought he did, despite what everyone says. He huffed a laugh and then looked back to Ryusui.
“I guess you may have a point.”
“Hah! Of course I do. A sailor's instinct is never wrong! Hahaha!”
After a few seconds, Ryusui’s laughter slowly faded into something quieter, softer, as the sound of the waves filled the silence between them. The ocean breeze brushed against his damp skin, cooling the heat left behind from the chase, but it did nothing for the strange warmth pooling low in his chest.
Beside him, Senku looked… relaxed.
Not the smug, sharp-tongued scientist constantly ten steps ahead of everyone else. Not the exhausted workaholic hunched over blueprints with bloodshot eyes and adrenaline in his veins. Just Senku.
Open.
Content.
Happy.
The sight rooted Ryusui in place more effectively than any anchor ever could.
Senku’s lips were still curved faintly upward from his earlier laugh, his posture loose as he leaned back against the sand with his hands braced behind him. The dying sunlight caught against the pale strands of his hair, turning the white tips gold-orange beneath the sunset. His eyes, usually blazing with restless calculation, had softened into something calm.
Ryusui stared.
And then, unbidden, Gen’s voice echoed through his mind.
“𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨? 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨?”
Ryusui’s breath caught.
The memory hit him all at once. The chocolate. The strange disappointment on Gen’s face when Ryusui hadn’t understood. The knowing look. The teasing smirk. Every irritatingly cryptic comment suddenly snapped together with terrifying clarity.
His gaze drifted back toward Senku. Toward the smile Ryusui suddenly realized he’d been chasing for far longer than he thought.
Not just now.
Not just today.
The winter nursing. The way Ryusui had started seeking Senku out under flimsy pretenses. The pride he felt whenever Senku relied on him without hesitation. The excitement that sparked in his chest whenever they worked side-by-side, perfectly synchronized in a way neither of them seemed capable of with anyone else. The way Ryusui always found himself watching Senku when he wasn’t paying attention. The way Senku trusted him. The way Ryusui wanted more.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Oh.
𝘖𝘩, that manipulative bastard Gen had known the entire time.
Ryusui felt like the wind had been knocked from his lungs.
It wasn’t admiration.
Well—no, it was. Of course it was. Ryusui admired Senku more than almost anyone. Senku’s intellect was staggering, a once-in-a-lifetime brilliance Ryusui knew without question he would’ve snatched up immediately in the old world. He would have offered him money, laboratories, entire companies if that was what it took to keep a mind like that close.
But this…
This went beyond admiring a valuable ally. Beyond wanting an equal. Beyond wanting the scientist at his side to achieve their shared ambitions.
Ryusui wanted Senku.
Not as a business partner.
Not as merely a friend.
Not even solely as the genius who could drag humanity into the future with his bare hands and terrifying intellect.
He wanted this.
He wanted the rare smiles Senku only showed when he forgot to guard himself. Wanted the sharp insults and quiet trust. Wanted the late nights spent arguing over impossible inventions. Wanted to stand beside him at the helm of every insane journey they undertook together. Wanted to hold him. Wanted to hear that rough, exhausted laugh more often.
He wanted to 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 him.
The realization crashed over Ryusui with enough force to rival a tidal wave. For once in his life, the greediest man alive found himself utterly speechless. Then, almost immediately, he cursed himself.
How had he not noticed sooner?
Ryusui prided himself on understanding his own desires better than anyone. The moment he wanted something, he acknowledged it. Claimed it. Pursued it with everything he had. That was who he was. Greed meant honesty. It meant refusing to deny what your heart desired. And somehow, despite all that, he’d completely overlooked something this monumental.
His fingers curled loosely into the sand beside him as a laugh threatened to escape his throat. Not amused. Disbelieving.
He loved Ishigami Senku.
God, it felt good to admit it, even if only to himself. The feeling settled warmly in his chest instead of frightening him. Ryusui had never been ashamed of desire. Why would he be? Desire was what pushed humanity forward. Desire was ambition. Progress. Dreams.
And Senku—
Senku was the most extraordinary thing Ryusui had ever laid eyes on.
Of course he’d fallen for him.
The realization burned bright and exhilarating through his veins, and instinct immediately followed after it.
Confess.
Claim what he wanted.
Ryusui’s mouth opened before he could stop himself, words already threatening to spill free—
But another memory surfaced just as quickly, crashing into the moment hard enough to stop him cold.
Sai.
Ryusui’s smile faltered almost imperceptibly.
Back in the old world, Ryusui had wanted his older brother with the same overwhelming intensity he wanted everything else in life. Sai’s brilliance, his company, his presence beside him. Ryusui had clung tight with both hands, insistent and relentless in the way only Nanami Ryusui could be.
At the time, he’d thought it was fine. Natural, even. They were brothers. Partners. 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺.
But eventually Sai had started pulling further and further away beneath the weight of Ryusui’s attention. Ryusui remembered the awkward smiles, the exhaustion hidden behind them, the way Sai would quietly retreat whenever Ryusui’s greed became too overwhelming to keep up with. And then one day, Sai had left for India.
Far away.
Far enough Ryusui couldn’t simply reach out and drag him back into orbit around himself whenever he pleased.
At the time Ryusui had laughed it off like it didn’t bother him. Claimed it was only natural for people to chase their own ambitions. But the truth was uglier than that. A part of him had always known why Sai left.
Ryusui wanted too much.
Held too tightly.
And eventually people suffocated beneath the weight of it.
The thought twisted sharply in his chest as he locked eyes with Senku whose demeanor was still relaxed in a way Ryusui knew was rare.
Trusting.
Comfortable.
Unguarded.
𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘦.
If Ryusui reached out greedily again—if he pushed this desire onto Senku just because he wanted more—would history simply repeat itself? Would Senku start retreating too? The mere possibility made Ryusui’s stomach sink.
No.
He couldn’t do that to him. Not to Senku. Especially not to Senku.
So the words died in his throat. Because suddenly, horribly, he could already see exactly how this would end. Senku wasn’t looking at him like that because of romance. Senku looked at him like that because Ryusui was safe. Because somewhere along the way, Senku had decided Ryusui was someone he could lower his guard around. Someone reliable. Someone worth trusting.
That alone was practically priceless.
And Ryusui knew Senku.
Maybe better than most people did.
Senku loved science with every fiber of his being. Loved it with a devotion so intense it eclipsed almost everything else. This was the man who had married Ruri purely for the sake of advancing the Kingdom of Science. The man who pushed himself to collapse because reviving humanity mattered more to him than sleep, comfort, or his own wellbeing.
Science was Senku’s greatest love.
Always would be.
Romance… feelings… all those messy emotional complications? Ryusui could practically hear the annoyed scoff Senku would give at the very concept. A distraction. An unnecessary detour from progress.
An impediment.
And Senku hated impediments.
Ryusui’s chest tightened painfully.
If he confessed, Senku would pull away.
Not cruelly. Not maliciously. But he would.
That easy openness would vanish behind walls and sarcasm and carefully maintained distance. Senku would avoid situations like this entirely if he thought Ryusui’s feelings would complicate things. He’d stop relaxing around him. Stop trusting him the same way.
Ryusui would lose this.
Lose the fragile, precious thing they’d managed to build together over months of quiet moments and mutual understanding.
The thought alone made his stomach twist.
𝘕𝘰.
No, he couldn’t allow that.
Because as much as Ryusui desired Senku for himself… more than that, he wanted Senku happy.
Wanted him free to chase every impossible dream clawing around inside that absurdly brilliant mind of his. Wanted to see him standing victorious at the end of humanity’s restoration, grinning like he’d conquered the universe itself.
Ryusui didn’t want to become something that held him back. And if loving Senku meant stepping aside quietly and asking for nothing in return, then so be it.
That was a desire too, wasn’t it?
To protect what he valued.
Even from himself.
A bitter sort of amusement curled through Ryusui’s chest. How ironic. The greediest man alive had finally found something he wanted more desperately than anything…
…and chose not to take it.
Slowly, Ryusui forced his expression back into something lighter, easier. He buried the storm of emotion beneath his usual confidence with practiced ease, even as the ache lingered stubbornly beneath his ribs.
It was settled.
He would not confess.
Not now.
Most likely not ever.
He would keep this feeling to himself and remain exactly what Senku needed him to be: a partner. An ally. Someone standing beside him rather than demanding more.
Even if part of him ached at the thought.
Beside him, oblivious to the war Ryusui had just fought within himself, Senku stretched lazily before leaning back onto the sand again with a quiet huff.
“You zoning out over there?” Senku asked casually. “Or did the great Nanami Ryusui finally short-circuit?”
Ryusui blinked once before barking out a laugh, grateful for the darkness hiding the faint lingering heat on his face.
“Hah! As if. I was simply appreciating the fruits of my labor.”
Senku snorted. “Right. Your labor.”
“Obviously. Without me this entire beach day wouldn’t exist.”
“Yeah, yeah. Ten billion percent sure your ego’s gonna need its own boat soon.”
Ryusui grinned despite himself, something warm and painful intertwining in his chest all at once.
Maybe this would be enough.
No—
He looked over at Senku again, at the easy curve of his mouth illuminated beneath the sunset.
For now, it had to be enough.
The two of them sat there together as the sky deepened into brilliant shades of orange and violet, waves rolling rhythmically onto shore while laughter echoed faintly farther down the beach.
It was a perfect ending to a, for the most part, perfect day, all thanks to Ryusui's keen eye for… well, for swimsuits.
Funny how life works.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The time was finally here. Perseus, the long awaited ship, was finished. It took about a year but to Ryusui it was worth it. He was finally going to see the ship in all its glory set sail!
He couldn’t wait.
He'd hardly slept the night before and now, standing aboard the ship, he could hardly stay still. He wanted to jump with joy, shout and check out the entire ship until his heart was content, but he couldn't. There was still something he had to do.
"The science vessel Perseus! That name is just so powerful!" Suika commented, tilting her head up to gaze at the towering vessel. Her eyes were alight as she spoke, her body leaning forward in excitement. She was gathered at the shore along with every person in the village to witness the finally complete boat embark on its journey.
It was truly a remarkable sight: the ship easily being the size of a mini mountain.
Ukyo, ever the observant one, overheard her. He smiled gently, his eyes locked on the ship. "Perseus was a hero from Greek mythology, if I'm not mistaken. He defeated Medusa, who could turn people into stone." He commented, hoping to explain the thought process behind the ship's name. If there was anyone who would appreciate the meaning it'd be Suika.
Chrome pumped his fist, eyes shining. "Well, damn. Then, not only is the name cool, it's fitting. Considering we're about to set sail, find whoever turned humanity to stone, and capture 'em, petrification beam and all! That's why we spent an entire year building this puppy. It's time for action!"
Senku, chuckling as he stared up at the ship, chimed in. "That's right, we had a whole year to prepare for this moment, so I hope everyone's ready for what's next.” He smirked, his tone sharpening. “Today's the long-awaited day when the Kingdom of Science splits into two teams. The world exploration team that'll search for the truth, and the humanity development team that'll stay behind."
Suddenly, a booming laugh echoed across the bay. Ryusui, hair billowing in the wind, stood perched atop the mast of the Perseus, a long scroll clutched in his hand. He raised it high above his head. "Ha-ha! As captain of this vessel, I've prepared a list of my desired crewmates! Though I'd take each and every one of you with me if I could!”
Senku rolled his eyes, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Great idea, except then all of humanity would go extinct if the ship sank!" He shouted.
Gen chuckled wryly. "That is true," he added innocently.
Minami, who was readying her camera to take a picture and would jump at any opportunity to bash Ryusui, chimed in. "And isn't there a maximum capacity?"
Ryusui cleared his throat dramatically, pointedly ignoring all their comments. That's why he said if he 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. He may not be Ukyo but he did have good hearing. So despite everyone but Senku talking normally he'd still heard them.
Of course, even though he heard them he wouldn't let any hint of annoyance show. Not that he felt very annoyed, he was on top of the world! Soon they'd set sail. But first, the important part. "Needless to say, this is an unprecedented and extremely dangerous mission. We may never return. And I can't guarantee your lives. So, even if I call your name, you're free to stay behind if you like! That is a choice each of you has to make!"
Chrome scoffed. "C'mon, I feel insulted hearing that."
Senku smirked, crossing his arms. "Hah! That was a real noble speech you gave, but enough with the BS! Just tell us who you need, and if they don't wanna come, we'll find some way to trick 'em into getting on board!” His smirk turned sinister as he hunched his shoulders, beginning to talk as though no one else was in the area. “Once on the ship, they're ten billion percent stuck with us, whether they like it or not!" He let out a trademark, maniacal laugh.
Gen cackled, covering his mouth theatrically. "Ah, yes, my specialty! Just leave the dirty work to me! Not that I plan to go, but I do love a ruse!"
Ryusui's expression grew serious. "Huh. You could, Gen, there's no doubt in my mind. In fact, you could convince every person here.” He crossed his arms, his tone growing sharper. “But if we're stuck out there with a crewmate who's less than willing, them getting themselves killed is one thing, but endangering the whole ship is another. Or am I wrong?”
Ryusui took a step forward, his voice echoing across the bay. He held up the scroll, his eyes showing he was dead serious as he looked at each person in the crowd. “As I read these names, only those who are truly prepared to go should step foot onto our science vessel Perseus! There is no shame in staying behind!"
He unfurled the parchment in his hand, the names meticulously written in elegant calligraphy. "First up! We need our engineers to keep the ship running! Senku! Kaseki! And Chrome!"
“Oh goodie I was chosen!” Kaseki shuffled forward with a grin, his gnarled hands already twitching with the anticipation of tinkering. Chrome, bubbling with excitement, followed close behind.
“I know! This is totally bad!”
Without hesitation, they made their way up the newly constructed wooden ramp leading to the deck of the Perseus.
"What the heck?!" Chrome exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks halfway up the ramp. He pointed, his eyes narrowed. "How is Senku already on board?!"
Indeed, there was Senku, already standing next to Ryusui, seemingly unfazed, poring over some schematics as if he'd been there the whole time. He hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge his name being called.
Minami, holding her camera, capturing every moment for posterity, muttered to herself, "Couldn't he, I don't know, care a bit more? Or, like, pretend to be emotional?"
Taiju roared with laughter, his booming voice carrying across the water. "That's just how he is! Senku doesn't do 'emotional'! He does science!"
Ryusui, unbothered by the side conversations, continued reading his list. "Yuzuriha!"
Yuzuriha, her eyes wide with surprise, gracefully ascended the ramp. "Wow, really? I count as an engineer?"
"For the sails!" Ryusui answered. If even one sail went out their entire journey would become a fight for survival. Having Yuzuriha and her impeccable sewing was essential. And though he was no expert he’d say that ability alone made her an engineer. "On radar and sonar, Ukyo." He continued.
The archer, ever composed, nodded once and walked onto the deck. Though he was excited about being chosen he wasn’t the type to boast about his eagerness the same way Chrome liked to. Not that being open about one's enjoyment was a bad thing.
"Our cook, Francois!"
Francois, radiating silent confidence, began the ascent without delay. Ryusui gave a self satisfied smirk as he saw Francois ascend the ship. He'd had no doubt Francois would come along but getting to see the butler willingly walk up without hesitance was still a relief. Honestly, if Francois didn't come he probably wouldn't have proceeded in sailing the Perseus. Without Francois cooking there was no point.
"And of course, any true voyage via sailboat will take a metric ton of brute force.” Ryusui paused for a split second, building anticipation. “The power team!"
Before Ryusui could even finish the sentence, Kohaku, Nikki, Magma, Yo, and Taiju were charging towards the ramp, a cacophony of cheers erupting from their throats.
Ukyo called out, "Guys, he didn't call your names yet!" Yet no one bothered to acknowledge him. He was about to try to shout again but sighed, accepting his cry of protest was pointless. At least he could say he tried.
Magma, puffing out his chest, sauntered onto the deck, a smug smirk plastered on his face. "Ha. Y'know, I could just stay behind and take over the village."
Mantle, walking beside Magma, chimed in, "Oh, yeah! You would have no competition! But you've never been one to settle for small goals when a greater opportunity is presented."
Senku, leaning closer to Ryusui and completely unbothered by the discussion of someone possibly overthrowing his leadership role, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint, interrupted. “Tch. Be quicker to say who’s not coming!" He leaned in further to look over Ryusui’s shoulder, getting closer than necessary, making Ryusui’s breath hitch slightly.
Ryusui tried to keep himself from subconsciously moving away, hoping Senku didn't notice. If he did, he didn't say anything. Ryusui wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. "Anyone written down we don't think will jump at the chance?" Senku glanced at Ryusui’s paper, his lips twitching in amusement.
Ryusui, trying to regain his composure, cleared his throat. "Kinro!"
Kinro, ever the stickler for rules, stepped forward with resolute determination. "Very well, then. Rules are rules."
Gen, standing beside Ginro, offered a dry observation. "How in character. Unlike half of the other people up there, Kinro waited to hear his name."
Ginro, standing stiffly beside his brother, began to sweat profusely. His internal monologue was a scream of pure terror. He didn't want to go. The last thing he needed was to go on a journey across the world and possibly be eaten by a shark or something even worse. There was way too much out there that could harm him and absolutely no chance he was willing to risk encountering such things. But since his brother was chosen that left nearly a zero percent chance of his name not being called. He was doomed!
However, for a moment it seemed he was in the clear until Ryusui, finally, called out, "And… Ginro!"
Ginro threw his hands up in the air, his composure completely crumbling. "No way! Sailing across the planet is a death sentence! I'm not getting on board! 𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳!"
Ryusui remained perfectly calm, his expression full of exasperation. "Ginro, I don't know why you're freaking out so much. No one's forcing you to come along. Didn't you hear me? I want 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 crew members. If you're unsure, stay. The development team has important work to do, too."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, a hint of apprehension coloring their faces. Several villagers exchanged nervous glances, suddenly unsure of their own desire to embark on such a perilous journey.
Kohaku, standing near the railing of the Perseus, voiced her own concern as she looked down at the assembled villagers with worry etched on her face. "I know the ship needs the power team and our best fighters are a part of it, but that worries me. Hyoga and Homura are still in jail. With all of the kingdom's mightiest warriors far from home, if those two were to break out of their cells somehow… they'd take over all of Japan."
Senku chuckled, a confident glint in his eye. "Hah! No need to worry about that."
He gestured towards a small, heavily barred cell constructed within the Perseus's hold. Inside, Hyoga and Homura sat, their expressions a mixture of resentment and resignation.
Yo, his eyes widening in disbelief, exclaimed, "Seriously?! They're coming with us?!"
Senku chuckled again, his tone dismissive. "So, we have a moving prison, big whoop. As long as they're supervised, it's fine."
Chrome, still struggling to process the information, stammered, "And everyone on board's okay with this?"
Ukyo, forcing a smile, replied, "Doubt it, but there's no choice. They're simply too strong to risk leaving behind with the others."
Senku, completely unfazed, crossed his arms. "Bringing them is dicey for sure, but there may come a time when we need to play every last card in our hand to survive. If worse comes to worst..."
Gen clapped, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere even though he was all the way on shore. "Well, I suppose that's everyone that Ryusui wrote down. Let's give our friends a nice send-off!"
Ryusui held up a hand, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Don't be ridiculous. The last one on my list is you, Gen."
Gen's eyes widened in mock horror. "Eriously-say?! Surely you don't need me—you must've misspoken! I've got the strength of a house cat, at best!"
Senku smirked, folding his arms. It was a good try, but considering he was coming along—someone with the strength of a bug—it wasn't going to work. He'd give Gen an A for effort though. "There's no tellin' what kinda enemy we'll run into out there. And I don't wanna end up in a situation where your skills coulda saved our lives." The, 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨, was left unsaid but clearly implied.
Gen hesitated, frantically searching for a plausible excuse, any reason to stay behind where it was safe. "Uh…” A glance to the right, a glance to the left, surely there was 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. Having to spend who knows how long on a floating ship where even the ground you stand on isn't guaranteed to be safe was not something he wanted to do.
Besides, all the good stuff like his precious cola and ramen were here on the island. But, then again, he 𝘸𝘢𝘴 the mentalist of the group. And considering how the Kingdom of science wasn't exactly equipped to handle… 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦 situations (everyone having the blunt force of a rock) it would make more sense to have him come.
After all, what good was all of the stuff the Kingdom of Science had to offer if their resident scientist, along with pretty much everyone else, perished because of their lack of communication skills? Things like Coca Cola and Ramen were great but much to his disdain he's actually come to somewhat 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 these people. Without them it'd simply be… pointless. But then again, what if they ran into Why-Man? That was a battle he'd prefer to never have. Maybe—a dramatic sigh.
“Fine, fine. I suppose if Why-Man does choose to attack, he could just as easily pick Japan as his target. And with that in mind, I might be safer siding with the Kingdom of Science." Gen started walking up the boat ramp, feigning nonchalance. "I must admit, it's worked for me so far. Not that I care who comes out on top. As long as I stand to profit."
Kohaku, watching Gen ascend the ramp, smiled knowingly. "Senku. I think I've finally figured out our mentalist friend. That wicked facade he puts on is just his way of saving face.” It was more than obvious if Gen was doing this out of pure survival his chances of not dying were significantly greater back at the Kingdom of Science. Plus, there were countless opportunities Gen could've abandoned the Kingdom of Science to save himself and yet never did. No matter how you sliced it, he cared. It was honestly adorable how he tried to act indifferent. “Ha. But it's still a pain in the neck."
Ryusui, putting away his list, walked towards the ship's helm, his eyes shining with anticipation. It was about time Gen dropped the charade. Among most of the names on his list Gen was a given to come along, of that he was sure. Where Senku went Gen seemed to follow. And quite frankly, without Gen they'd probably end up killing each other before someone or something else could, making this entire sea voyage pointless.
There was a lot of terrestrion being locked onto a small ship with a bunch of lunatics knowing only how to be blunt, yell, or hit one another after all. But now that Gen finally confirmed what he, and everyone else really, already knew the good part could start! "Ha-ha! Now that we got that out of the way—set sail! To uncharted waters. To the mysteries of our stone world! And beyond!"
A wave of cheers erupted from the villagers gathered on the shore.
Mirai, bless her soul, shouted, "Be careful, guys!"
Minami yelled, "You all better come back, you hear me!?"
And countless other words of encouragement and safe wishes were heard. Mostly safe wishes were heard though. Everyone in the Kingdom of Science wanted them to succeed, obviously, but their desire for the ship's crew's safety was even greater.
Chrome pumped his fist in the air, his heart racing with excitement. "Okay, we're gonna take down the mastermind behind everything and steal the beam tech while we're at it! Until then keep the Kingdom of Science thriving for us!"
The crew of the Perseus bustled around the deck, preparing for departure. Ropes were cast off, sails unfurled, and the ship slowly began to move, gliding gracefully away from the shore. Taiju waved vigorously, tears streaming down his face. Kohaku stood beside him and laughed, ruffling his hair. Senku was below deck, looking at the mechanics of the ship, deep in thought. Chrome and Kaseki were already discussing future ship repairs, their voices overlapping in a flurry of technical jargon. Ukyo adjusted the sonar equipment, his keen eyes scanning the horizon. And Francois meticulously organized the galley, ensuring that every ingredient was in its proper place.
As the Perseus gained speed, Ginro, consumed by a sudden brilliant idea, made a desperate decision. He plunged into the water, frantically paddling towards the receding ship, his arms flailing wildly.
"Wait! Wait for me!" he cried out, his voice barely audible above the crashing waves. Just like he wanted. A few more seconds and he could turn back and enjoy the new harem that was sure to form from his heroic but futile efforts.
However Taiju, spotting Ginro's desperate attempt to reunite with his brother and help in their cause, reacted instinctively. With a roar, he dove into the water, his powerful strokes quickly closing the distance between him and the struggling Ginro. He grabbed Ginro by the scruff of the neck and hauled him back towards the ship.
Ginro, coughing and sputtering, clung to Taiju, his face a mask of fear and forced relief. "I… I knew you'd come for me!" he stammered, secretly hoping it would look like he truly tried to come but had failed. Just what the hell did they feed this guy!? His plan would've been fool-proof if not for him! Now he was sure to die!
Taiju, oblivious to Ginro's internal raging fit, simply grinned and hoisted him onto the deck. "Don't worry, Ginro! We're all in this together!"
“Yay…”
With everyone finally aboard, the initial excitement began to settle and from there the clock began as the Perseus sailed further into the unknown with one goal: discover the mysteries surrounding the petrification beam and take down Why-Man.
The chase was on!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ryusui stood at the helm of the Perseus, his hands wrapped tightly around the massive wooden wheel, fingers curled so firmly around the polished wood it almost creaked beneath his grip. The ocean stretched endlessly before him, a vast sheet of sapphire broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of the waves. Sunlight scattered across the water in glittering fragments, bright enough to sting the eyes if stared at too long.
Usually, the sight filled him with exhilaration.
Today, however, his gaze remained distant and unfocused, fixed somewhere far beyond the horizon.
Behind him, life aboard the Perseus continued in full force. Chrome and Kaseki were arguing excitedly about some modification they wanted to make to one of the ship’s mechanisms. Taiju’s booming laugh echoed across the deck as he helped Magma haul supplies below deck. Nikki was yelling at Yo for slacking off while Francois calmly passed by carrying a tray of drinks with perfect composure despite the chaos surrounding them.
It was lively.
Warm.
Safe.
And Ryusui could barely hear any of it.
Because now that the dust had settled, now that they were finally sailing back toward Ishigami Village instead of scrambling desperately for survival, he no longer had constant danger occupying his mind. Now he was left alone with his thoughts. And boy, did they keep him company.
Treasure Island lingered in his mind like a wound that refused to close.
At the time, he'd been too consumed by adrenaline to truly process anything. Every second on that island had been a battle for survival. There’d been no room for hesitation, no room to dwell on fear when every moment demanded action. Plans had to be made. Risks had to be taken. Decisions had to happen instantly or people would die.
Ryusui excelled under pressure. But afterward? Afterward came the silence. And in that silence, everything came crashing down on him all at once.
His grip tightened unconsciously around the wheel.
He had been petrified again.
The thought alone sent a chill slithering down his spine despite the warmth of the sun overhead.
Again.
Not once.
Not twice.
Three separate times.
The mere fact that petrification was still possible unsettled him in a way he hated admitting, even to himself. For months after his revival, the petrification had become something distant in his mind. An unpleasant memory, yes, but one buried beneath the excitement of rebuilding civilization and chasing impossible ambitions alongside the Kingdom of Science.
He’d convinced himself he was over it.
Then Treasure Island happened.
And suddenly the nightmare was real again.
Ryusui could still remember the exact moment he saw that sickening green light spreading across the sky. It had looked almost beautiful at first. A glowing emerald ribbon unfurling through the heavens, shimmering with an eerie radiance that illuminated the island in unnatural color. For one split second, his brain had refused to process what he was seeing.
Then instinct took over.
Suika.
He remembered spotting her tiny figure too close to the blast radius, frozen in confusion and fear as the light expanded outward toward them.
There hadn’t been time to think.
Only act.
Ryusui had kicked her away with every ounce of force he could muster, sending her tumbling clear of the beam just before the light swallowed him whole.
And then—
Nothing.
His breathing hitched faintly at the memory.
Petrification wasn’t pain. Honestly, Ryusui almost wished it had been. Pain was tangible. Understandable. Human. Petrification was something far worse.
It was emptiness.
The world vanished in an instant. No sound. No warmth. No movement. One second he’d felt the ocean wind against his skin and heard the frantic shouting around him—
—and the next, there was only darkness.
Not ordinary darkness, either. Not the comforting sort found behind closed eyes or during a moonless night. This darkness consumed everything. It swallowed the world whole and left absolutely nothing behind.
Ryusui couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear the crash of waves or the cries of his companions. Couldn’t smell the saltwater or the damp scent of the island. Couldn’t feel the deck beneath his feet or the air in his lungs.
Hell, he couldn’t even feel his own body.
There was only a vast, blank void stretching endlessly in every direction, suffocating in its sheer absence of sensation. It pressed against his consciousness like cold stone, heavy and oppressive and impossible to escape.
And worst of all—
Time stopped meaning anything there.
A second could’ve been an hour.
An hour could’ve been eternity.
Floating in that abyss felt like being buried alive inside his own mind, awareness flickering dimly in a haze that threatened to drag him under completely.
It terrified him.
Not during the moment itself—there was barely enough consciousness left for terror then—but afterward, once he could think again.
The realization of just how utterly helpless petrification made him.
Ryusui hated helplessness.
The memory alone made his skin crawl now.
A sharp itch spread beneath the surface of his arms, phantom and maddening. He resisted the urge to claw at himself as though he could rip away the sensation entirely.
The first petrification had been horrifying enough.
But then came the second.
And the third.
And the fourth.
Each time forcing him back into that suffocating void all over again.
Each time covering him in cold stone once more.
Disgust curled in his stomach.
Logically, he knew he was fine now. More than fine, honestly. The petrification had even healed his scarred hand. Everything had worked out exactly as it always seemed to whenever Senku was involved. The Kingdom of Science had survived. Why-Man’s weapon was in their possession. They were alive.
They’d won.
But logic didn’t stop the lingering sensation beneath his skin. Didn’t stop the awful phantom feeling of stone wrapped tightly around his limbs. Didn’t stop the instinctive panic that still flared in his chest whenever he remembered that endless empty darkness.
Ryusui exhaled slowly through clenched teeth.
For a brief moment, he wanted to tear his hands off Perseus’s wheel and scratch at his arms until the feeling disappeared completely. Until he no longer felt like fragments of petrified stone still clung stubbornly to him beneath the surface.
As though no matter how many times the stone cracked away…
…part of him was still trapped inside it.
Ryusui inhaled slowly through his nose, the salt-heavy air filling his lungs as he forced his fingers to loosen around the Perseus’s wheel. He needed to breathe. The wood beneath his palms had long since begun to creak under the sheer force of his grip. He couldn't continue on like this. And so, he made himself relax before he accidentally snapped part of the steering wheel clean off in the middle of the Pacific. That would be humiliating.
The ship rocked gently beneath him, the steady sway almost hypnotic as the Perseus cut through the open sea with practiced grace. Outside the helm room windows, the ocean continued to stretch endlessly in every direction, vast and impossibly blue beneath the afternoon sun.
Usually, Ryusui loved this.
The sea was freedom.
Adventure.
Control.
Yet now, even standing at the helm of humanity’s greatest vessel, even after trying to calm himself, all he could think about was stone.
His skin prickled violently again.
Ryusui suppressed a grimace.
The urge to scratch at himself had only worsened the longer he stood there alone with his thoughts. It crawled beneath his skin like insects skittering through his veins, phantom remnants of petrification clinging stubbornly to him no matter how many times he reminded himself it was over.
He was flesh.
Breathing.
Alive.
Not stone.
And still—
His nails dug sharply into his palms.
A faint crackle of wood sounded from somewhere behind him as the ship shifted with the current, but Ryusui barely registered it. His mind remained trapped in Treasure Island’s green light and suffocating darkness, in memories of consciousness stripped down to nothing but an endless void threatening to swallow him whole.
Again.
Again.
Again.
His jaw tightened.
God, he hated this feeling.
Nanami Ryusui was not someone who frightened easily. Fear existed to be overcome. Controlled. Bent into ambition and used as fuel to drive him forward.
But petrification…
Petrification reduced everything to nothing. And that void made his skin crawl.
A small sound behind him barely registered in his mind.
Footsteps, maybe.
Or perhaps the shifting of the ship.
He didn’t look away from the horizon. Didn’t notice the door opening quietly behind him. Didn’t notice another presence entering the room at all. Not until sudden weight settled carefully between his shoulder blades.
Ryusui tensed instantly.
Every muscle in his body locked on instinct, adrenaline surging through him so violently it almost made him recoil outright. His heart lurched into his throat, pulse roaring in his ears as his body prepared to either strike or shove the person off him—
Then he registered warmth. Soft hair brushing against his back. The familiar scent of smoke, metal, and faint chemicals.
Senku.
The realization hit almost immediately, dissolving the panic as quickly as it had appeared. Ryusui exhaled sharply through his nose, tension easing from his shoulders little by little.
Behind him, Senku said nothing. He had simply leaned forward until his forehead rested lightly against Ryusui’s back, arms hanging loosely at his sides as though standing upright suddenly required more effort than usual.
The silence stretched quietly between them.
Ryusui blinked in confusion.
At first, he genuinely had no idea what to make of this. Senku wasn’t exactly… physically affectionate. Hell, most days he barely tolerated people invading his personal space unless it directly benefited science. Ryusui had seen Senku willingly climb into dangerous situations without hesitation, but emotional vulnerability? That was rarer than platinum in the Stone World.
So why was he here?
And more importantly—
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘙𝘺𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘪?
He opened his mouth slightly, preparing to ask what Senku was doing, but the words stalled before they could leave him. Because suddenly, another thought hit him.
Senku had been there too.
Not petrified himself this time, no. But affected all the same.
Ryusui’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.
While everyone else had been swallowed by the green light, Senku had remained behind.
Alone.
Again.
The realization settled heavily in Ryusui’s chest. He could still remember glimpses of it now—the frantic calculations in Senku’s eyes, the exhaustion carved into his face, the way he’d kept moving forward despite the impossible odds stacked against him.
Because he had to.
There had been no one else.
Everyone around him had turned to stone one after another until Senku had been left standing amidst a graveyard of statues, carrying the weight of all their lives on his shoulders.
And if he failed…
Ryusui’s grip loosened unconsciously on the wheel.
If Senku failed, that would’ve been it.
No Kingdom of Science.
No crew.
No friends.
No one.
Just Senku alone on an island surrounded by silent stone corpses once more, forced to count the seconds until he somehow found his way out of his own stonified prison, for which he would then have to claw civilization back from nothing with nobody beside him.
Again.
A chill ran down Ryusui’s spine.
That had to be terrifying.
Not that Senku would ever admit it out loud.
Ishigami Senku barreled through fear the same way he barreled through everything else: with stubborn determination and reckless self-sacrifice until the problem was solved.
But beneath all of that brilliance…
He was still just a kid.
Barely an adult.
An eighteen-year-old carrying the weight of humanity on his back as though it were solely his responsibility to restore the world.
Ryusui’s chest tightened painfully.
Senku never stopped.
Never rested.
Never allowed himself room to crack because the second he slowed down, people could die. So instead he shoved everything down beneath science and logic and forward momentum until there was no space left for his own feelings.
And right now…
Right now, it seemed he simply couldn’t anymore.
The realization made Ryusui go very still.
Senku didn’t want words. Didn’t want reassurance or fussing or someone hovering over him asking if he was okay. If anything, that would probably send him bolting from the room immediately.
No.
This—this quiet leaning weight against his back—this was Senku allowing himself one single moment to stop pretending he was unaffected. One second to simply exist beside someone else without needing to carry the entire world alone.
And somehow…
Somehow, he had chosen Ryusui for that.
Not Taiju, whose unwavering loyalty had followed Senku for, at this point, thousands of years.
Not Yuzuriha, whose gentleness soothed nearly everyone around her.
Not Gen, who understood people frighteningly well.
𝘙𝘺𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘪.
A strange warmth bloomed in his chest so suddenly it almost stole the breath from his lungs. It spread slowly outward, soft and aching and dangerously fond.
Senku trusted him. Enough to lower his guard like this. Enough to seek him out in silence. Enough to lean on him—literally and otherwise—without fear.
Ryusui swallowed hard.
Part of him wanted to turn around immediately. To pull Senku close. To tell him he didn’t have to carry everything himself anymore. But he crushed the impulse down before it could surface. Because this wasn’t about Ryusui. And the last thing Senku needed right now was having to deal with someone else’s feelings.
So instead, Ryusui simply stayed still.
He loosened his death grip on the wheel entirely and adjusted his stance just slightly, subtly enough that Senku would barely notice, making it easier for the scientist to lean against him comfortably.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence settled around them naturally, uninterrupted and strangely comfortable despite the heaviness lingering beneath it. The Perseus continued to creak softly as it cut through the waves, the low groan of wood and rope blending with the distant crash of the ocean outside.
Behind him, Senku remained leaned lightly against his back, the warmth between Ryusui’s shoulder blades grounding in a way he hadn’t expected. The phantom itch beneath his skin had not disappeared entirely, but it had dulled enough that he no longer felt on the verge of clawing himself apart.
Ryusui kept his eyes fixed ahead, giving Senku the quiet space he seemed to need.
Then, unexpectedly—
“...Thanks.”
The word was so quiet Ryusui almost thought he imagined it.
He blinked.
Of all the things he expected from Senku right now, gratitude hadn’t been one of them. Honestly, Ryusui had assumed Senku would stay there in silence until he gathered himself, then leave without explanation like nothing had happened at all.
That felt more like him.
So hearing that rough, subdued thank you completely caught Ryusui off guard. His mouth parted slightly before promptly closing again. For the second time in his life, the greediest man alive found himself without an immediate response. Thankfully, Senku didn’t seem to expect one.
“I just...” Senku started quietly before trailing off.
Ryusui felt him shift faintly behind him, like the words themselves physically pained him to say.
“I needed...” Another pause. Senku exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration flickering through the sound. “A second. That’s all.”
There was the slightest stiffness to his voice now, subtle but unmistakable.
Embarrassment.
Not because Senku regretted coming here, Ryusui realized. No—he simply hated admitting weakness. Hated needing anything from anyone in the first place. Ryusui’s chest tightened faintly. And yet despite that discomfort, Senku had still come here anyway.
Still chose 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
Ryusui said nothing, sensing instinctively that interrupting would ruin whatever fragile thing Senku was allowing himself right now. So instead, he stayed quiet and listened. Behind him, Senku let out another slow breath.
“It’s stupid,” he muttered. “We won. Everybody’s alive. We got the Medusa. We’re already heading back. Objectively speaking, there’s zero reason for my brain to still be hung up on it.”
Ryusui’s gaze softened slightly at the familiar scientific phrasing. Even now, Senku framed his emotions like a problem to analyze rather than feelings to experience.
“But every time I close my eyes,” Senku continued more quietly, “I keep seeing it.”
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.
He didn’t need to say the words aloud.
Ryusui knew.
“I knew the odds,” Senku said. “Knew what the weapon could do. Knew there was a chance things could go sideways. But watching everybody drop one after another anyway...” He clicked his tongue softly, frustrated. “That was a pain in the ass.”
The understatement almost made Ryusui laugh.
Almost.
“I kept thinking,” Senku admitted, voice roughening slightly, “if I screw this up, that’s it.”
Ryusui felt something twist painfully in his chest.
“There wouldn’t be anybody left,” Senku said quietly. “No Taiju. No Yuzuriha. No Chrome. No Kingdom of Science.”
His fingers curled slightly against Ryusui’s back.
“No you.”
The words hit Ryusui far harder than they should have. For a brief moment, he forgot how to breathe.
Senku, oblivious to the effect he’d just had on him, continued speaking softly into the silence.
“And starting civilization from scratch once was enough,” he muttered with dry humor that didn’t quite land. “Doing it a second time completely solo would've sucked ten billion percent."
Ryusui closed his eyes briefly.
God.
Senku really was just a kid sometimes. Brilliant beyond comprehension, capable of dragging humanity forward with his bare hands and sheer force of will—but still just a teenager carrying fears too heavy for someone his age to shoulder alone.
And he carried them anyway.
Always.
Because he believed nobody else should have to.
Ryusui swallowed hard against the warmth gathering painfully in his chest.
“You all trust me so damn much,” Senku said after another stretch of silence, quieter now. “Usually that’s useful. Makes things easier.” A faint, humorless huff escaped him. “But when everybody gets petrified except you...” His voice dipped lower. “It’s different.”
Ryusui understood immediately.
Trust became pressure.
Responsibility.
A crushing weight balanced entirely on one person’s shoulders.
Senku had been utterly alone in that moment. Surrounded by statues of the people depending on him to save them. And despite everything, he still had. Because of course he had. Ryusui finally understood then that this wasn’t really about fear.
Not entirely.
It was exhaustion.
The kind that settled deep into your bones after carrying too much for too long. And for once, Senku wasn’t trying to shoulder it completely by himself.
The realization made something warm ache beneath Ryusui’s ribs. Still, he kept himself carefully steady. No pity. No overbearing reassurance. That wasn’t what Senku needed. He just needed someone to stand beside him quietly while he let himself feel everything he usually shoved aside.
So Ryusui let him.
The silence that followed felt different now.
Softer.
Not empty, but full of quiet understanding neither of them needed to put into words. Outside, waves crashed steadily against the hull while the late afternoon sun filtered warm gold through the helm room windows.
Eventually, Ryusui felt the weight against his back lessen.
Senku stepped away slowly.
The sudden absence of warmth felt strangely noticeable.
After a brief hesitation, Ryusui finally turned around.
Their eyes met instantly.
Senku looked calm now, though traces of exhaustion still lingered around the edges of his expression. His face had settled back into something more familiar—guarded, composed, sharp—but not completely closed off.
Not with Ryusui.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Ryusui smiled faintly.
“I was never worried.”
Senku blinked once.
Ryusui leaned one arm casually against the wheel behind him, expression steady.
“I knew you'd get us out of that situation,” he said simply. “Ten billion percent—a sailor's instinct is never wrong.”
The effect was immediate.
Ryusui watched the words hit Senku in real time.
First came the surprise—a brief widening of crimson eyes, subtle enough most people would've missed it entirely.
Then something softer flickered beneath it.
Relief.
Disbelief.
Comfort.
Like part of Senku genuinely hadn’t expected anyone to say that out loud.
Ryusui’s chest tightened painfully at the sight. Because despite all the confidence Senku projected, despite the arrogance and constant certainty—there were still moments where the weight of everyone relying on him clearly got to him more than he let anyone see. And maybe hearing someone say I trusted you completely mattered more than either of them expected.
Senku looked away first, clicking his tongue softly.
“Hah. Good thing I’m insanely competent then.”
Ryusui laughed quietly.
“Obviously.”
For another brief second, Senku lingered there.
Then he gave a small nod.
Not dramatic.
Not overly emotional.
Just simple acknowledgment.
And after that, he turned and walked out of the helm room without another word, the door shutting softly behind him.
The room fell quiet once more.
Ryusui stood there staring at the closed door for several long moments before finally exhaling deeply. He brought a hand up briefly, dragging it down his face as though trying to steady himself. His heart still hadn’t fully calmed down.
Not from fear this time.
Something else entirely.
After a moment, Ryusui turned back toward the endless ocean stretching out before the Perseus. The waves rolled onward beneath the fading sunlight, vast and uncertain and full of dangers still waiting beyond the horizon.
But despite everything—despite the fear. Despite the lingering memories of stone and darkness. Despite the terrifying reality of what still awaited them—the Kingdom of Science had survived. And somehow, through all of it, he and Senku had grown closer again.
The thought settled warmly in Ryusui’s chest as his hands returned to the wheel.
Whatever happened next—they would face it together.
Of that, he was sure.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ryusui stood beneath the shade of a broad tree near the outskirts of Ishigami Village, one shoulder resting against the rough bark while his arms remained loosely crossed over his chest. The afternoon sun filtered through the leaves overhead in fractured beams of gold, dappling across the grass and the dirt clearing below.
A rhythmic thud echoed through the air.
Wood striking wood.
Again.
And again.
Across the clearing, Tsukasa moved with terrifying precision.
Even holding back, even sparring casually with a wooden spear instead of fighting seriously, there was something overwhelming about the man’s presence. Matsukaze lunged forward with sharp, practiced strikes, his expression focused and intense, yet Tsukasa avoided every attack with almost insulting ease. One sidestep. One pivot. One smooth motion after another.
Efficient.
Controlled.
Powerful.
Ryusui watched quietly as Tsukasa caught the shaft of Matsukaze’s spear mid-strike and twisted, disarming him effortlessly before immediately handing the weapon back with a calm smile.
“No openings,” Matsukaze muttered in awe.
Tsukasa chuckled softly. “You’re improving.”
Ryusui hummed faintly under his breath.
Yeah.
He could see why people listened to Tsukasa.
Even now, after only recently being revived, Tsukasa already fit naturally back into the Kingdom of Science like he’d never been gone at all. The villagers respected him. Trusted him. The fighters gravitated toward him instinctively. Even the people who’d never met him before seemed to relax around him within minutes.
Honestly, Ryusui had been curious about him from the start.
𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘺 curious.
After hearing the story of the Kingdom of Science’s early days Tsukasa Shishio had become something of a mystery in Ryusui’s mind. Because really—what kind of person made Ishigami Senku willing to freeze a human being in a goddamn refrigerator to preserve their life? What kind of person made Senku cross the ocean, chase down the Medusa, and gamble everything on obtaining petrification technology just for the chance to save them?
Especially after that same person had once tried to kill him.
Ryusui still remembered the first time he heard the story properly. At first, he'd assumed there had to be exaggeration involved somewhere. Surely Kohaku and Gen were being dramatic. But no. The more details he learned, the clearer it became that Senku had genuinely refused to let Tsukasa die no matter what. Even after everything. Even after betrayal. Even after violence. Senku had looked at a dying Tsukasa and decided, with absolute certainty, that saving him was nonnegotiable.
At the time, Ryusui hadn’t fully understood it.
Now, though...
His gaze drifted back toward the clearing as Tsukasa laughed quietly at something Matsukaze said, the sound low and warm and surprisingly gentle for someone nicknamed the Strongest Primate High Schooler.
Now he understood a little better.
Tsukasa was... good.
Not perfect. Ryusui knew that much. The stories of the Empire of Might made that abundantly clear. Tsukasa had done terrible things in pursuit of his ideals. But despite all of that, Ryusui couldn’t bring himself to dislike him.
Quite the opposite, honestly.
Tsukasa was thoughtful. Protective. Calm in a way that naturally steadied the people around him. Strong enough to crush a lion with his bare hands, yet patient enough to kneel and speak softly with children gathering flowers near the village paths.
There was kindness in him. A quiet sort. And perhaps more importantly—there was unwavering loyalty. Ryusui had noticed that part almost immediately. Not just loyalty to humanity or the Kingdom of Science. To Senku specifically. The realization sat heavy in Ryusui’s chest. Because once he started paying attention to it, it became impossible not to notice.
For instance, there were the glances. God, the glances. Tsukasa looked at Senku differently than everyone else did. And Senku—Senku looked back. Not constantly. Not obviously. Most people probably wouldn’t catch it at all. But Ryusui prided himself on understanding people. Reading them was practically second nature to him. And when Senku and Tsukasa stood near one another, there was something there.
Something quiet.
Something old.
A trust so deeply rooted it no longer needed to be spoken aloud. Ryusui had started noticing it in little moments. The way Senku never seemed remotely tense around Tsukasa despite everything that had happened between them. The way Tsukasa instinctively positioned himself nearby whenever danger arose, like protecting Senku had become automatic. The ease with which they spoke to one another.
The certainty.
As though no matter what happened, each of them already knew the other would be there.
It made sense, really. They had history Ryusui could never touch. Shared experiences. Shared pain. Shared survival. Tsukasa had known Senku before the Kingdom of Science even existed. Before Chrome. Before Gen. Before Ryusui himself had ever opened his eyes in the Stone World. And Senku had fought to save him with everything he had.
Ryusui’s arms tightened slightly across his chest. A bitter sort of jealousy curled quietly beneath his ribs. Not enough to become resentment. Ryusui wasn’t capable of hating people simply because they possessed something he wanted. Desire didn’t work like that for him. If anything, seeing someone else have what he wanted only made him appreciate it more.
And Tsukasa was valuable in his own right.
Extraordinary, even.
But still...
Ryusui wished Senku looked at 𝘩𝘪𝘮 like that.
Just once.
He wished he had that kind of place in Senku’s life. Because despite how much closer he and Senku had grown, despite the trust between them, despite the quiet moments aboard the Perseus and the easy companionship they’d built—seeing Tsukasa beside Senku made Ryusui realize how far away he still was.
The difference was subtle, but undeniable. Senku trusted Ryusui. That much, at least, was real. Ryusui knew it every time Senku sought him out without hesitation. Every time he relaxed around him. Every time he let Ryusui stand beside him at the helm of some impossible ambition.
But Tsukasa...
Tsukasa felt foundational.
Like something carved directly into Senku’s life itself. And no matter how much Ryusui wanted otherwise, he couldn’t ignore the truth sitting plainly in front of him. If Senku ever allowed himself room for love at all—if science ever stopped occupying every corner of his heart—Ryusui knew exactly where he’d place his bets.
Tsukasa.
Not him.
The realization stung more than he cared to admit. Because how could Ryusui possibly compete with that? With someone Senku had risked everything to save? Someone he trusted so completely despite having every logical reason not to? Someone who understood pieces of Senku Ryusui wasn’t even sure he’d ever get to see?
It was pure torture.
Watching the effortless understanding between Tsukasa and Senku. Watching the quiet trust neither of them even seemed aware they displayed so openly. Watching something Ryusui knew he could never quite reach.
𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘪𝘭.
That was what Minami had once called Ryusui and Tsukasa. Completely different creatures. And maybe that was part of the problem. Tsukasa fit beside Senku naturally in ways Ryusui never would. Tsukasa steadied him. Balanced him. Understood parts of him Ryusui sometimes felt locked out from entirely.
Meanwhile Ryusui was loud where Tsukasa was calm. Excessive where Tsukasa was restrained. Greedy where Tsukasa was selfless.
Water and oil.
Maybe that alone ensured Ryusui would never stand on equal ground. Maybe Senku would always look at Tsukasa differently.
The thought twisted painfully beneath his ribs.
And that wasn’t even accounting for everyone else.
Gen, for one.
Ryusui would have to be blind not to notice the strange pull between those two as well. Gen understood Senku in ways few people could. Slipped past his defenses effortlessly. Made him laugh in that rare, unguarded way that always twisted painfully at Ryusui’s chest.
There were others too.
People who fit beside Senku more naturally than Ryusui ever could.
People less selfish.
Less greedy.
Less... 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.
His mouth curved faintly, though no amusement reached his eyes.
Funny.
Ryusui had spent his entire life believing he could obtain anything he truly desired if he chased it hard enough.
Money.
Power.
Freedom.
The ocean itself.
Yet the one thing he wanted most now felt utterly out of reach. And perhaps the worst part was that he’d already accepted it. That was probably why he’d started keeping his distance recently. Not dramatically. Not enough for anyone else to really notice. But 𝘩𝘦 noticed. Fewer excuses to seek Senku out. Less lingering after conversations. Less instinctive gravitating toward wherever Senku happened to be working. It wasn’t intentional at first. More... self-preservation. Because seeing Tsukasa beside Senku all the time hurt more than Ryusui expected it to. Every glance between them became another quiet reminder that Ryusui simply wasn’t enough.
Not for that.
Not for Senku.
Ryusui’s fingers curled faintly against his sleeves. Still, after a moment, he forced himself to relax again. Because despite the ache sitting stubbornly beneath his ribs... he meant what he’d told himself before. He wanted Senku happy more than he wanted him for himself. And if happiness eventually meant someone else standing at Senku’s side—
Someone stronger.
Closer.
More important—
Then Ryusui would accept that too.
Even if it hurt.
Especially if it hurt.
His gaze lingered on Tsukasa for one final quiet second before he looked away toward the distant horizon beyond the trees, expression unreadable beneath the shifting sunlight.
Yeah.
He’d accepted it.
That didn’t make it any easier though.
Ryusui let his gaze linger on the distant horizon for only a moment longer before finally pushing himself away from the tree. The bark scraped faintly against the back of his coat as he straightened. Somewhere across the clearing, Matsukaze was already asking for another round while Tsukasa patiently corrected his stance with the calm ease of someone entirely confident in his own strength.
Ryusui exhaled quietly through his nose.
Enough was enough.
Really, this whole thing was becoming pathetic.
He was Nanami Ryusui. Captain of the Perseus. The greediest man alive. He had oceans to conquer, continents to map, impossible ambitions to chase alongside the Kingdom of Science. He did not stand around hiding beneath trees like some lovestruck teenager watching another man spar because he was jealous of said man while nursing feelings he already knew would never amount to anything.
Honestly, it was embarrassing. The thought almost made him laugh at himself.
Almost.
Ryusui turned—
—and froze.
Senku stood several feet behind him near the edge of the village path, half-shadowed beneath the trees.
Watching him.
For one horrible second, Ryusui’s entire body forgot how to function. His breath caught sharply in his lungs. Every muscle locked at once, instincts firing violently through him as realization crashed down all at once with brutal clarity.
How long had he been standing there?
How much had he seen?
God.
God, no.
A cold wave of dread curled instantly through Ryusui’s stomach.
Senku’s expression was unreadable. That was the worst part. Not annoyed. Not amused. Not confused. Just still. Sharp crimson eyes fixed directly on Ryusui with an intensity that made heat crawl uncomfortably up the back of his neck.
Ryusui’s pulse stumbled hard in his chest.
Had Senku seen him staring at Tsukasa? No—worse—had he noticed the jealousy? The longing? Had Ryusui really been standing here looking miserable and envious while watching Tsukasa like some kind of tragic idiot so long that Senku would take notice?
His stomach twisted violently.
Because if Senku had noticed—
If Senku had put the pieces together—
Then Ryusui suddenly wanted the earth itself to open up and swallow him whole.
Humiliation burned hot beneath his skin.
In hindsight, maybe he hadn’t been nearly as subtle lately as he’d convinced himself he was. Maybe all those moments where his eyes lingered too long before he forced himself away had been obvious after all. Maybe Senku had already noticed the careful distance Ryusui kept putting between them recently. The missed conversations. The deliberate avoidance. The way Ryusui had stopped seeking him out unless absolutely necessary.
God.
Maybe Senku had realized why.
Ryusui felt abruptly, painfully exposed. Like every carefully buried feeling had been ripped out into open daylight without his permission. And Senku just kept looking at him. Not speaking. Not moving. That unreadable expression somehow made it infinitely worse.
Ryusui’s mind spiraled immediately.
Maybe Senku already knew. Maybe he’d known for a while. Maybe that was why those sharp red eyes looked so intent now—because suddenly all the missing pieces finally made sense. The distance. The avoidance. Ryusui’s sudden inability to simply exist around him normally anymore. Senku had figured it out. And maybe, just maybe, that meant he could confess. Tell Senku he loved him and—
The thought hit Ryusui like a physical blow.
No.
Absolutely not.
He would not do that to Senku.
Would not force those feelings onto him. Would not become another burden hanging off his shoulders. Senku already carried enough. The last thing he needed was Ryusui making things complicated with selfish emotions he had no right to impose in the first place (no matter how much he craved to.)
And honestly—
What exactly had Ryusui been hoping for anyway? That one day Senku would magically look at him the way he looked at Tsukasa?
Ridiculous.
The answer had been standing right in front of him this entire time.
Tsukasa.
It had always been Tsukasa.
The quiet trust between them. The history. The understanding. The certainty. Ryusui had seen it clearly enough. And yet he'd still kept orbiting closer anyway like a complete fool, breaking his own heart piece by piece while pretending he could somehow survive on scraps of affection and fleeting moments alone together.
Pathetic.
Something sharp twisted painfully beneath his ribs. Because really, what right did he have to stand between that? What right did he have to keep lingering at the edges of something he already knew he could never compete with?
None.
Absolutely none.
A strange sort of clarity settled over him then. Cold. Heavy. Final.
This had to stop completely.
Not halfway.
Not “less.”
Entirely.
Because keeping his distance clearly hasn’t been enough. Even after trying to pull away, he still found himself watching Senku or Tsukasa from afar like this. Still gravitating back toward them instinctively no matter how hard he tried not to. Still hurting himself over and over again.
Ryusui was smarter than this.
More dignified than this.
He had spent his whole life chasing desires with reckless confidence, but this—this was one treasure he simply wasn’t meant to claim. And maybe the greediest man alive needed to accept that for once.
His throat tightened painfully.
God, that realization hurt.
Still, Ryusui forced his expression into something smooth and easy despite the awful pressure building beneath his ribs. Years of social masks slipped instinctively into place. Calm. Charming. Untouched.
He could do this much, at least.
Senku deserved peace.
Deserved happiness.
And if that happiness eventually meant rebuilding whatever existed between him and Tsukasa without Ryusui lingering awkwardly at the edges of it all—then Ryusui would remove himself entirely. He wouldn't make the same mistakes he made with Sai.
His fingers curled once against his sleeves before relaxing again.
That was the right thing to do.
Even if it hurt.
Especially if it hurt.
For one long second neither of them spoke. The afternoon breeze stirred softly through the trees overhead. Somewhere nearby, Kohaku shouted encouragement toward Matsukaze while Taiju’s booming voice echoed faintly from farther within the village.
Normal.
Everything felt painfully normal despite the way Ryusui’s chest seemed to cave inward around his lungs. Senku still hadn’t moved. Still watched him with that same impossible-to-read expression. Ryusui couldn’t bear it. Because if he stayed there any longer, he might say something reckless. Something honest. Something selfish. And he refused to do that.
Not to Senku.
Not now.
So instead, Ryusui simply smiled lightly—the same easy smile he gave the world whenever he wanted to conceal things—and stepped back toward the path.
He didn’t trust himself to speak. Not when his voice might betray him. Not when one wrong word could crack open everything he was desperately trying to bury.
Senku’s gaze followed him as he moved away from the clearing. Ryusui felt it the entire time. That steady, unreadable stare pressed between his shoulder blades like weight.
For one terrible second, he almost stopped walking. Almost turned back. Almost let himself be selfish. But then his eyes caught briefly on Tsukasa across the clearing—calm, strong, steady beside the life he already fit into so naturally—and looking past him at Senku with 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 look and the fragile impulse shattered immediately.
Right.
This was exactly why Ryusui needed to stop. Before he made things harder for everyone involved. Before he humiliated himself any further. Before he ruined the easy trust he and Senku still had left. So he kept walking. And as he disappeared farther down the village path, one thought settled heavily, decisively, inside his chest.
This was the end of it.
No more watching Senku from afar. No more lingering glances when he thought nobody noticed. No more standing quietly at the edges of rooms just to hear Senku’s voice. No more allowing himself to hope for things he could never have. And no more observing Tsukasa in hopes of finding some flaw.
From now on, Ryusui would keep his distance completely unless the Kingdom of Science truly required otherwise. Nothing more. No exceptions. He would stop chasing something that had never belonged to him in the first place. And maybe—if he buried the feelings deep enough—his heart would eventually stop reaching for someone it could never keep.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ryusui should have known everything he’d told himself back in Ishigami Village was complete bullshit. Absolute, grade-A nonsense. Because time had passed. Days. Weeks. And somehow none of it had changed a damn thing. He was still hopelessly obsessed with Senku.
The realization sat bitter and heavy in his chest as Ryusui stood at the helm of the Perseus, fingers curled loosely around the wheel while moonlight stretched silver across the ocean around them. The sea breeze tugged through his hair, cool against overheated skin, but it did nothing to quiet the restless ache lodged beneath his ribs.
Honestly, it was almost laughable at this point. He’d really thought distance would fix it. That if he simply stopped lingering around Senku, stopped seeking him out every five minutes, stopped letting himself indulge in all those quiet moments aboard and off the Perseus, then eventually these feelings would fade into something manageable.
Instead, they’d only rooted themselves deeper. And God, that was terrifying. Because Ryusui, as he’s stated before, has spent his entire life taking whatever he wanted. That was who he was.
The greediest man alive.
If he desired something, he chased it. Claimed it. Conquered it. Oceans, wealth, power, freedom—it didn’t matter. Ryusui reached for things with both hands and dragged them into his grasp through sheer force of will. That confidence had always been one of the things he loved most about himself.
But Senku…
Senku was different.
Painfully, disastrously different.
If he reached for Senku he’d almost certainly lose him.
Ryusui tipped his head back slightly, staring toward the dark sky overhead while the ship rocked gently beneath him.
And yet, despite knowing that, every instinct inside him still screamed to reach. To grab hold of Senku and pull him close and say 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 with the same certainty he declared everything else in this world his.
He wanted to.
God, he wanted to.
Wanted to catch Senku by the wrist when he got too absorbed in his work. Wanted to drag him away from piles of science equipment and force him to rest properly for once. Wanted to hear those rare, startled laughs more often. Wanted to stand at Senku’s side not merely as an ally or captain or trusted companion—but as something more.
Something chosen.
The desire burned so fiercely sometimes it physically hurt. And that was exactly why Ryusui knew he couldn’t act on it. Because he’d already learned this lesson once before with Sai. It was the very reason he’d stayed silent when he first discovered his feelings for Senku. Ryusui had spent years trying to force his wants onto the people around him without understanding what it meant to truly lose someone. He’d believed confidence alone could bridge any distance. That if he simply declared something loudly enough, strongly enough, the world would eventually bend to accommodate him. But people weren’t treasures. They weren’t ships or corporations or stretches of ocean waiting to be conquered. And trying to hold onto Sai too tightly had only driven him away. Ryusui still remembered the emptiness that followed. The silence. The awful realization that love could not be seized through sheer desire alone. He couldn’t survive that again.
Especially not with Senku.
So instead Ryusui endured. Poorly. Very poorly, actually. Because avoiding Senku aboard the Perseus was practically impossible. In hindsight, trying to distance himself while trapped on a ship together might have been the stupidest idea Ryusui had ever conceived—and considering some of his previous ideas, that was saying something.
The Perseus wasn’t small by any means. It was a magnificent vessel. Spacious, elegant, engineered beautifully. Yet somehow whenever Ryusui tried avoiding Senku, the ship suddenly felt microscopic. Every corridor became too narrow. Every deck too open. Every turn threatened accidental disaster.
One moment Ryusui would think he’d successfully escaped below deck only to nearly collide with Senku exiting the workshop carrying armfuls of glassware and muttering chemical formulas under his breath. Another time he’d head toward storage to ‘inspect supplies’ only to find Senku already there arguing with Chrome over copper wire.
It was relentless.
And Tsukasa’s presence only made everything worse.
Not intentionally.
Tsukasa himself remained perfectly kind toward Ryusui. Calm, respectful, easy to work alongside (despite what Minami said.) Which honestly only made Ryusui feel guiltier for the ugly jealousy still twisting through him whenever he saw the man standing comfortably beside Senku.
Because they fit together so naturally.
Effortlessly.
Meanwhile Ryusui felt like someone constantly trying to wedge himself into a place he didn’t belong.
His grip tightened faintly against the wheel.
Still, he was trying. Really trying. Thankfully, being captain came with useful excuses. Navigation needed checking. Wind conditions required monitoring. The sails needed adjusting. The course needed reviewing. And unlike most others aboard, Ryusui actually had legitimate responsibilities that allowed him to disappear for long stretches of time without raising suspicion.
The ocean helped too.
God, the ocean helped.
Out here, with endless blue stretching in every direction, Ryusui could almost breathe normally again. The sea reminded him who he was outside all this aching confusion. Out on deck with salt spray against his skin and the wind roaring through the sails, he could feel pieces of himself settling back into place.
Free. Untethered. Like maybe he hadn’t entirely lost himself to this impossible longing after all. But even that relief never lasted long. Because lately—
Senku kept seeking him out.
Ryusui frowned faintly at the thought.
It was strange. Subtle enough that maybe nobody else would notice, but Ryusui noticed everything involving Senku whether he wanted to or not. Senku had started appearing beside him more often. Stopping by the helm under increasingly flimsy excuses. Asking questions Senku absolutely did not need answered personally. Lingering longer during conversations instead of immediately wandering back to whatever scientific project currently held his attention as they waited to arrive in America.
Sometimes Ryusui caught him watching him too. Sharp red eyes following him briefly across the deck before flicking away the second Ryusui noticed. It was probably meaningless. Ryusui knew that. He was overthinking things because that was apparently what heartbreak turned him into nowadays. Some pathetic fool grasping at scraps of attention and accidentally assigning significance where none existed.
Still…
It made avoiding Senku infinitely harder. Because every tiny interaction cracked his resolve apart all over again. And honestly, Senku was not making this easy whatsoever.
Which was exactly how Ryusui ended up in his current situation. Staring at a visibly furious Senku across the Perseus’ upper deck while several nearby crew members very wisely pretended not to notice the tension threatening to split the air apart.
Ryusui kept his expression smooth through sheer force of will.
Internally, however, he was screaming.
Because admittedly—
Possibly.
Maybe.
Very hypothetically.
He might have sort of intentionally tried to get out of helping Senku tonight. Which normally wouldn’t have mattered except for the fact this was something Ryusui always helped with.
Usually willingly.
Usually enthusiastically, even.
During the voyage to America aboard the Perseus, the evenings had slowly fallen into a rhythm. Days were spent upgrading the ship, preparing supplies for whatever absurd scientific disaster Senku anticipated next, and cramming foreign languages into exhausted brains while crossing endless ocean. Nights, meanwhile, somehow became Senku’s dedicated “drag Ryusui into moon-mission planning that I can totally handle alone” hours.
It had started innocently enough.
A quick question about fuel storage. Then calculations about weight distribution for future aircraft. Then discussions about ocean routes, landing sites, supply chains, material transport, emergency contingencies—and before Ryusui realized what had happened, the two of them had developed an almost nightly habit of spreading blueprints and notes across the Perseus deck long after everyone else had gone to sleep.
Senku would ramble through increasingly impossible rocket theories while scribbling equations at terrifying speed. Ryusui would lean over his shoulder, offering logistical solutions, resource estimates, or wildly ambitious suggestions that somehow made Senku’s eyes light up every single time.
They worked together disgustingly well.
That was the problem.
Because somewhere between discussing fuel efficiency and arguing over whether they could realistically mass-produce aluminum in the Stone World—
It had started feeling dangerously domestic.
Just the two of them beneath the stars. Ocean wind curling through Senku’s hair while he muttered calculations half to himself. Ryusui sitting close enough to feel his shoulder brush against his whenever the ship shifted with the waves.
Too easy.
Too comfortable.
Too dangerous.
So tonight, when Senku appeared carrying an armful of papers and immediately headed toward their usual spot near the stern, Ryusui had smoothly intercepted him with an apologetic smile and informed him that unfortunately he was 𝘧𝘢𝘳 too busy overseeing supply inventory to assist.
A complete lie, obviously.
The inventory had been finished before dinner. There was quite literally nothing for him to oversee. Senku had known it instantly. And apparently, after weeks of enduring Ryusui’s increasingly pathetic attempts to avoid being alone with him—
Senku had finally snapped.
Which explained why he was currently glaring at Ryusui with enough intensity to make even Kohaku glance nervously between them from farther down the deck.
“You’re seriously pullin’ this crap again?” Senku demanded.
And oh.
Oh, he was angry angry.
For half a second, Ryusui considered pretending not to understand what Senku meant.
A harmless little performance. Wide-eyed innocence. Some breezy excuse about being busy lately. Maybe even an exaggerated apology paired with one of his usual dazzling smiles. Under normal circumstances, he could’ve talked his way around almost anything.
But this was Senku.
And honestly, trying to play dumb would almost feel insulting.
Senku wasn’t an idiot. Quite the opposite. The man noticed everything when he actually paid attention, and Ryusui knew perfectly well that those sharp red eyes had already dissected every flimsy excuse he’d attempted over the past few days.
Pretending otherwise now would just cheapen that.
So instead, Ryusui laughed lightly beneath his breath and lifted both hands in surrender.
“Hah! Caught red-handed.” His smile turned crooked, deliberately easy. “Your observation skills remain terrifying as always, Senku. Honestly, I’m beginning to think it may be physically impossible to pull one over on you.”
Senku looked utterly unimpressed. If anything, his expression somehow became even more irritated.
“Yeah, no kidding,” he snapped immediately. “Because your lies suck.”
Ryusui winced theatrically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Cruel.”
“Shut up.”
Then, before Ryusui could react further, Senku moved.
Fast.
One second he stood several feet away glaring holes through Ryusui’s skull, and the next his fingers had locked firmly around Ryusui’s wrist.
Ryusui startled hard.
“Senku—?”
“C’mere.”
And then Senku outright dragged him across the deck (which was honestly quite impressive.) Nearby crew members immediately developed the survival instincts of prey animals spotting a predator. Chrome turned around so fast he nearly walked directly into Ukyo. Kohaku abruptly became fascinated by the sails overhead. Ginro physically backed away.
Nobody interfered.
Which was probably wise.
Ryusui stumbled once before catching himself, pulse kicking violently against his ribs as Senku hauled him toward the lower deck with single-minded determination.
Fuck.
The contact alone was enough to short-circuit half his brain.
Senku’s grip was warm. Firm. Unyielding.
Ryusui hated how desperately aware he became of every point of contact instantly. The pressure around his wrist. The brush of Senku’s sleeve against his arm whenever the ship shifted beneath them. The sharp tension rolling off him in waves.
And Senku was angry.
Actually angry.
Not merely annoyed in that casual, grumbly way Senku usually got when people inconvenienced him. No, this was something sharper. Hotter. Genuine frustration simmering beneath every clipped movement. Which honestly terrified Ryusui a little. Because Senku rarely lost his temper like this unless something truly mattered to him.
The lower corridor beneath the deck was dimly lit, the sounds of the ocean muffled behind wooden walls and creaking beams. Senku didn’t stop until they reached a narrow storage room near the rear of the ship. The second the door shut behind them, Senku released Ryusui’s wrist and whirled around so abruptly Ryusui almost walked straight into him.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Senku demanded instantly. No preamble. No easing into the conversation. Just direct impact. Typical Senku really. “You better explain yourself already.”
Ryusui’s breath caught.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The room suddenly felt far too small.
Moonlight filtered faintly through the tiny side window, silver lines cutting across Senku’s face while the ship swayed gently beneath them. Ryusui could still feel the ghost of Senku’s hand around his wrist like heat burned directly into his skin.
God.
This was it, wasn’t it?
The inevitable collision he’d spent weeks trying desperately to avoid.
His stomach twisted painfully.
Because what exactly was he supposed to say here? That he’d fallen hopelessly in love with the world’s most emotionally oblivious scientist and subsequently started avoiding him for the sake of his own rapidly deteriorating sanity? That every glance between Senku and Tsukasa felt like slowly being carved open from the inside out? That Ryusui wanted things he had absolutely no right to want?
Humiliating.
Worse—dangerous.
Because if he said the wrong thing now, he could lose everything. Senku’s trust. Their partnership. The easy closeness they’d built together piece by piece aboard the Perseus. And Ryusui genuinely didn’t think he could survive that. Still, after several agonizing seconds, something inside him finally loosened with weary resignation.
Fine.
If this disaster was happening regardless, then he might as well accept it gracefully.
Ryusui exhaled quietly through his nose, shoulders relaxing just slightly. “I’ve been trying to give you the space you want,” he admitted at last.
The reaction was immediate.
Senku blinked.
Then frowned sharply.
“The hell are you talking about?”
Ryusui stared at him.
“…What?”
“You heard me.” Senku looked genuinely confused now, irritation momentarily overtaken by bafflement. “What space?”
Ryusui’s brain nearly stalled.
“I—You… c'mon, Senku. You obviously know what I’m talking about.”
“No, I really don’t.” Senku crossed his arms tightly. “And if anybody’s been acting like they want space lately, it’s 𝘺𝘰𝘶.”
Ryusui opened his mouth—
—but Senku steamrolled right over him.
“You’ve been disappearing every five seconds, dodging me whenever I come near you, making garbage excuses to get outta working with me, and then sneaking off to stare at Tsukasa all the damn time, which by the way—what the hell is that about? It's a completely illogical use of time.”
Ryusui froze.
Senku kept going before he could recover.
“Seriously, I don’t get it. One minute we’re working normally and then suddenly you start acting weird as hell. Every time I turn around you’re either avoiding me or lurking somewhere watching Tsukasa spar or train or talk or whatever.” Senku threw one hand up sharply. “And now you’re saying you’re ‘giving me space’ like I asked for that when I ten billion percent didn’t.”
Ryusui stared at him.
Completely stunned.
Meanwhile Senku was apparently just getting started.
“And honestly, if you wanted to hang around Tsukasa that badly, fine, whatever, but you could’ve at least said something instead of acting like a damn idiot for weeks.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Did he say something to you? Is this some weird competition thing? Because you’ve been acting completely irrational.”
Ryusui’s lips twitched.
Senku didn’t notice.
“You used to actually want to work on the rocket with me,” Senku continued, visibly aggravated now. “Then all of a sudden you start bailing constantly and every time I find you, you’re off somewhere with that look on your face staring at Tsukasa like you’re trying to solve a math equation nobody else can see.”
That did it.
A smile finally broke across Ryusui’s face.
Small at first.
Then wider.
Warmth bloomed unexpectedly in his chest, so sudden and overwhelming it nearly made him dizzy. Because—
Oh.
Oh, this idiot.
Senku finally caught sight of the expression and stopped mid-rant.
“…What the hell are you smiling about?”
Ryusui’s grin widened helplessly. And before he could stop himself, he was moving to cup Senku’s chin in his hands, tilting Senku’s head up slightly as he leaned in.
“Senku,” he said softly, visibly delighted now despite everything, “you sound jealous.”
For a moment, Senku simply stared at him. The words seemed to hit some invisible wall inside his brain.
𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴.
The room fell silent. Ryusui watched the reaction happen in real time. Senku blinked once. Then twice. His mouth opened slightly before closing again. For several long seconds, absolutely nothing came out.
It was honestly one of the most astonishing things Ryusui had ever witnessed. Because Senku always had something to say. Even when exhausted. Even when cornered. Even when facing impossible odds. Yet now—nothing. His expression had gone completely blank, as though someone had abruptly unplugged him.
Then, just as suddenly, Senku seemed to reboot. His eyes narrowed. Sharply. Dangerously. The look that settled across his face practically screamed irritated. Before Ryusui could react, Senku smacked his hand away from his chin.
"Quit it."
He immediately crossed his arms, scoffing under his breath.
"No shit I'm jealous."
Ryusui froze. The admission came so quickly and so bluntly that for a second he genuinely thought he'd misheard. Senku, meanwhile, looked equally annoyed about having said it out loud.
"That's the problem."
"...The problem?" Ryusui echoed.
"Yeah." Senku dragged a hand down his face in frustration. "I don't get it." There was real aggravation in his voice now. Not the irritation he reserved for broken equipment or failed experiments. This was deeper. Personal. "I literally don't understand why." He pointed at Ryusui accusingly. "It makes zero sense. Ten billion percent zero sense."
"Senku—"
"No. Listen."
Senku began pacing the tiny room, clearly working himself up the more he talked. The ship swayed gently beneath them, moonlight cutting silver lines across the floor, but Senku barely seemed to notice.
"Any other time? Anybody else? I wouldn't care." He gestured sharply. "Not even one millimeter." His eyes narrowed. "But then you start avoiding me. You stop showing up. You stop helping with the rocket." His jaw tightened visibly. "And every time I turn around, you're staring at Tsukasa."
Ryusui felt his pulse stumble.
"And for some reason," Senku continued, sounding increasingly frustrated, "I can't stop thinking about it."
The confession hung heavily in the air.
"I'll be trying to work on the rocket. Trying to calculate fuel requirements. Trying to figure out how we're actually gonna reach the moon. Trying to deal with Why-Man." He let out a harsh breath. "And instead I'm sitting there wondering what the hell is going on with you."
For the first time, Senku looked genuinely exasperated with himself. "Which is stupid. Completely stupid. Honestly kind of insane. But I can't stop."
Silence settled between them. The ship creaked softly around them. Outside, the ocean continued its endless rhythm against the hull. Inside, Senku looked unexpectedly lost.
"I don't know what's wrong with me." The admission came quieter this time. Almost reluctant. "I've never felt like this before." His eyes lowered briefly before lifting again, searching Ryusui’s face with a raw, uncharacteristic vulnerability. "And honestly? I hate it."
Ryusui's chest ached. Because suddenly all the pieces fit together. Every lingering glance. Every flimsy excuse. Every appearance at the helm. Every attempt to seek him out. Senku looked frustrated because he genuinely didn't understand what he was feeling. Which was probably terrifying for someone who understood nearly everything else.
"I hate that I can't focus," Senku laughed once, a dry, jagged sound. "And I hate that you're not just..." He stopped. The words catching somewhere in his throat.
Ryusui waited.
Senku frowned.
"...There."
The single word landed harder than anything else.
"I got used to you being there." His voice was quieter now. "And then suddenly you weren't."
Something in Ryusui's chest shattered completely.
Senku ran a hand through his hair. "I don't understand any of this." Another frustrated laugh. "Everything would be way easier if I didn't have to think about these feelings or whatever this is.” Senku finished, his shoulders slumping as if the gravity of his own admission had finally caught up with him. He didn’t look at Ryusui. He looked at the floor, his crimson eyes tracing the grain of the wooden paneling, looking for some logical exit that didn’t exist.
Then he finally looked up. And froze. Because Ryusui was staring at him. Absolutely staring. With an expression so soft and impossibly fond that it nearly made Senku flinch.
"...Why are you looking at me like that?"
Ryusui laughed. A helpless, breathless sound. God. This idiot. This brilliant, impossible idiot. The entire time.
The 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦 time they could have had this.
Slowly, carefully, Ryusui stepped forward. The air in the cramped space seemed to thin, charged with a sudden, heavy electricity that made the fine hairs on Senku’s neck stand up.
Senku didn't move. He couldn't. His intellect—usually a roaring furnace of logic—went startlingly, deafeningly quiet.
Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the rhythmic thrum of the ship against the tide, a heartbeat beneath their feet. The distance between them vanished, eaten away by Ryusui’s purposeful pace until they were toe-to-toe, a shared breath away.
And before either of them could overthink it—
Ryusui kissed Senku.
It was delicate, almost experimental. Soft. Gentle. Like something precious. Ryusui’s lips were warm, a stark, grounding contrast to the cold, analytical reality Senku usually occupied.
For one stunned second, Senku went completely rigid. His entire body locked up, his mind scrambling to understand this unexpected intimacy. Ryusui reached out, his hand hovering near Senku’s jaw, already starting to pull away in a wave of sudden, crushing insecurity—
Only for Senku’s fingers to catch in the front of his coat.
His grip was white-knuckled, a desperate, instinctive anchor. The movement was small, barely a twitch, but it stopped Ryusui’s heart dead in his chest. Then, Senku’s shoulders slumped. The rigidity evaporated, replaced by a profound, shuddering surrender. An invisible tension that had held him together for months finally snapped. The hand gripping Ryusui’s coat tightened, pulling him closer, demanding he stay.
And when Ryusui kissed him again—this time with a hunger, a desperate, sweeping need—Senku met him there. He leaned into it, his own lips parting, his hands shifting up to rest hesitantly, then firmly, against the lapels of Ryusui’s coat.
The realization hit Ryusui with the force of a tidal wave.
Senku wasn't pulling away. Wasn't rejecting him. Wasn't angry.
He was here. Actually here. Choosing this. Choosing 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
Joy exploded through Ryusui so suddenly he thought he might genuinely pass out. Every fear he’d harbored in his secret, greedy heart, every sleepless night spent watching the stars instead of the person beside him, every miserable attempt at distancing himself to protect his own sanity—every painful assumption that he was playing a losing game—it was all gone.
Because Senku cared.
God. Senku 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥.
Ryusui let out a low, muffled sound against Senku’s mouth, his hands sliding from Senku’s face to grip the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the stiff, bleached hair to pull him closer, deeper. Senku made a sharp, shocked sound, his own hands clutching at the fabric of Ryusui’s shirt impossibly tighter, anchoring himself as the world seemed to tilt on its axis.
It was messy, unpracticed, and entirely overwhelming. It was the frantic, chaotic energy of two people who had spent their lives building things only to realize they were each other’s missing component. When the kiss finally ended, both of them stood motionless for a moment, chests heaving, foreheads resting against one another. Breathing. Staring. Trying to process the seismic shift in the world around them.
Then Ryusui laughed. Bright. Disbelieving. Happy.
"Senku."
"...What?"
"You have absolutely no reason to be jealous."
The scientist blinked, dazed, still recalibrating his world. Ryusui shook his head, a wry, rueful smile pulling at his mouth. Because honestly? This was ridiculous.
"The entire time I thought you were in love with Tsukasa."
Silence. Senku stared, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face before it turned to something sharper.
"...What?"
Ryusui groaned, burying his face in his hands. "I know."
"WHAT?"
"I know," Ryusui repeated, his voice muffled by his palms.
"Ryusui."
"I know."
For a second Senku looked completely blank. Then his eyes widened. Then narrowed. Then widened again. And suddenly, he barked out a laugh. A real one. A jagged, uninhibited sound that ripped through the silence of the room—the kind Ryusui rarely heard and lived to provoke.
"Oh my God." Senku dragged a hand through his hair, his expression shifting from shock to pure, hysterical disbelief. "I can't believe this."
Ryusui was laughing too now, the weight of a thousand misunderstandings lifting off his shoulders.
"We may actually be idiots."
"That's scientifically proven at this point," Senku wheezed.
"We spent weeks doing this."
"Months."
"Months?"
"Months."
"Oh, that's embarrassing."
"Ten billion percent embarrassing."
Their laughter faded gradually, leaving behind something softer. Warmer. Neither moved away, trapped in the orbit of one another. The tiny room suddenly didn't feel suffocating anymore. It felt like a fortress.
Senku looked at him. Really looked at him, his gaze dropping to Ryusui's lips before snapping back to his eyes. He let out a long, shaky sigh.
"So."
Ryusui smiled, his eyes glinting with that familiar, predatory delight. "So."
Another pause. Awkward. Strange. New.
Finally, Senku pointed a finger at him, attempting to regain his clinical composure.
"You're done avoiding me."
"Done."
"No more disappearing."
"Done."
"No more weird Tsukasa surveillance."
Ryusui laughed, leaning back in to nudge his forehead against Senku’s. "Done."
"And you're helping with the rocket tonight."
"Immediately."
"Good."
A beat. Then Senku muttered, looking away, his cheeks stained a faint, dusty pink that Ryusui decided was his favorite discovery to date.
"I guess..." He stopped, clearly struggling, his genius failing him when faced with something this raw. Which was somehow, undeniably, adorable. Ryusui waited, his heart hammering against his ribs. Eventually, Senku sighed, his gaze snapping back to Ryusui’s. "I guess you're mine."
The words came out sounding annoyed, clipped and irritable, as if he were frustrated by the very concept of being claimed—or claiming. Ryusui felt his heart completely melt. A grin spread across his face, slow, bright, and unstoppable.
"My dear Senku."
"Don't make it weird."
"You just claimed me."
"I absolutely did not."
"You absolutely did."
Senku groaned, rolling his eyes, but he didn't pull away. He didn't even let go of Ryusui's coat.
Ryusui laughed, and somewhere beyond the wooden walls of the storage room, the Perseus continued cutting through the moonlit ocean toward the future. Toward America. Toward rockets. Toward the moon. Toward every impossible dream they intended to conquer.
Together.
For the first time in weeks, the ache in Ryusui's chest was gone. Replaced by something infinitely better. Hope. And when they finally emerged from the storage room much later—with suspiciously improved moods and absolutely no explanation whatsoever—the Kingdom of Science immediately knew something had changed. Neither of them admitted a thing. Of course. But Chrome looked confused. Kohaku looked suspicious. Gen looked delighted. And Tsukasa took one look at them, saw the way Senku wouldn't let go of Ryusui’s sleeve, smiled knowingly, and kept walking.
The future remained uncertain. The moon still waited. Why-Man still existed. There were a million challenges ahead. But somehow, none of them felt quite as impossible anymore.
After all—the greediest man alive had finally found the one treasure he never thought he could have.
And for once in his life—it had wanted him back.