Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tsukasa has done this a million times.

That is, holding his little sister’s hand—except this time, she isn’t asleep. Mirai is awake, and she’s smiling at her brother. She’s the one holding on to him.

Her hands are remarkably small under the dim cave lighting where Tsukasa’s freezer had been stored. Tomorrow, he’s set to leave Japan with the Kingdom of Science, right when the sun rises. Mirai decided to stay behind with the Ishigami villagers. Tsukasa didn’t have it in him to object to her choice, nor could he force her to come along with him. He trusts his little sister to make the right decisions for herself, and his gratitude towards Ishigami Village is immense. As Mirai’s brother, he’s glad that she found a second family here, one she wants to stay with.

That doesn’t make it not hurt.

Of course, he doesn’t want to leave, but Tsukasa has obligations to fulfill. Invisible debts to pay. He has a moon to land on and a brilliant scientist to protect.

“Big brother,” Mirai says, high-pitched for someone her bodily age. Although she’d grown into a teenager while in a coma, her mind was still behind due to the years she spent asleep. “Big brother?” she repeats, this time a question.

“Yes?”

“Ruri-san told me that we wait for the people important to us.”

Tsukasa thinks about the blonde village girl. “She is wise,” he says noncommittally.

The only thing he knows about Ruri is that she’s Ishigami Village’s priestess, and she married Senku over a year ago. Tsukasa wasn’t surprised to hear they were divorced as quickly as they were wed. Senku was more marriage-averse than a nun.

“Big brother,” Mirai whispers, “I’ll wait for you since you’re important to me.”

Tsukasa tenses. The universe is one mean asshole for reversing their positions like this, wasn’t it? He spent his lifetime waiting for Mirai to receive the treatment which would wake her from her deep, dead sleep. Now that they’re finally beside one another, it’s Tsukasa’s turn to leave, and it’s her turn to wait.

At least Mirai is here to say goodbye. He got to say farewell before he was cryogenically frozen, and he must do so again as he departs overseas. Tsukasa never got the chance to say goodbye 3,000 years ago, so he savors this privilege.

It’s nice to think that even though he’ll be venturing thousands of miles away from his homeland, the only person he’s ever loved will be waiting for him back here in Japan, no matter where he goes. They have a lifetime to savor being family after Senku accomplishes his mission and humanity is revived. Tsukasa pledged his loyalty to the Kingdom of Science, so he’s decided that once he’s helped Senku rebuild civilization (and maybe after he’s walked on the moon) he will make it home to Mirai. Only then can they finally live peacefully as brother and sister.

Tsukasa gives her palms a gentle squeeze. “I know you’ll wait.”

I know you’ll wait. I waited, too.

“Okay,” says Mirai, sounding relieved. “You know, Ruri-san also taught me that people are the happiest around those they love.”

“Sometimes that’s true,” her brother concedes. “Sometimes it’s not.”

“Big brother, you look the happiest around Senku. That’s why I’m glad you’re going with him.”

A small furrow forms between Tsukasa’s brows, hidden by dusk shadows. Mirai’s hands have grown clammy, and he can barely see her face in the wavering candlelight. She must be lying about being glad to see him leave, because the tiny tremors in her shoulders reveal what she’s left unsaid. Nonetheless, Tsukasa knows her statement about Senku and himself is an honest observation on her part. Her words are innocent and plain.

Tsukasa prides himself on being self-aware; he knows that Senku is certainly special to him. No matter how he tries to spin it, he’s not going on a long-distance, transoceanic journey simply because he harbors a sense of duty, or his remorse is so extreme that he needs to resort to servitude. Senku wants to save the world, and Tsukasa is quite content to follow him, whatever Senku wishes to do and wherever he wishes to go. He would like to see to it that all of Senku’s dreams come true; he has faith that the mad scientist can create a better future for him and his sister. It didn’t matter that the world may never return to how it was. They could build something entirely new.

“Thank you,” he tells Mirai because her honesty—I’m glad you get to leave and see the world and be with who you want to—is infinitely better than her saying goodbye.

The both of them had carved places for themselves in the Stone World. It’s high time they settled into those places and made their contributions.

Tsukasa releases her hands. “Rest, now,” he says, voice firm.

He’ll make sure Mirai gets a proper night’s sleep, even if he won’t.

Tsukasa idles beside Ryusui in a pact, the two of them comically large in the ship’s short-ceilinged cabin. Neither have spoken a word today or any days prior. The sun is low as it rises on the horizon, and Tsukasa understands that Ryusui and himself both want this silence. A peaceful morning is best for the first day at sea.

As the captain of the Perseus, it’s Ryusui’s job to steer the ship’s wheel, and his movements work in tandem with the petroleum-fueled engine located in the rear. Tsukasa is conscientious enough not to bother Ryusui while he works. He finds a sense of calmness looking out at sea from behind the bolted glass, listening to the ship’s wheel creak, and watching the wooden spokes of it turn.

The Kingdom of Science awakens slowly, pulled to the upper and lower decks as dawn comes to a close and the sun blazes higher.

Sometime before noon, Minami approaches Tsukasa holding a camera.

She waves her hands around enthusiastically, eyes expectant, and tells him that she’s recording introductions for the crew members. These will be compiled into a video that future generations will learn from, sort of like a documentary. Tsukasa’s face remains blank to hide his surprise.

They could film now? Having photographs in the Stone World was amazing enough, but when did they develop the ability to record?

After first awakening from his medically-induced petrification, Tsukasa was overwhelmed by the vast number of photos decorating the Perseus’ cabin walls. He’d noticed at least a dozen hanging around Senku’s mobile lab, too, when he’d been given a full tour of the Perseus courtesy of Chrome. Senku being openly sentimental—hanging up pictures of his kingdom’s constituents where he could see them every day—was not something Tsukasa expected either. It was absurd to consider that he might be attempting to display his affection.

“Why do you keep so many photos in the lab-on-wheels?” Tsukasa had asked.

And why are none of them photos of yourself? he almost added.

Senku glanced up from his beaker and answered, “To look at, bastard.”

Unsurprised by his bluntness, Tsukasa dropped the subject, but he had to admit his disappointment at the lack of Senku-only photographs. One would expect that there’d be plenty lying around, especially since he was the talk of the ship, yet Senku held little in his possession. Due to the lack of supply, Tsukasa found himself enamored with any image of Senku he could find. There were candid snapshots of him grinning, speaking mid-sentence, drawing out blueprint plans, or sweating and exhausted, splayed out over maps illuminated by lamps. One image in particular stuck out to the Strongest Primate High Schooler, and he’d noticed it in the ship’s control room. It was a rare image of Senku by himself, his tongue poking out in a mimicry of Albert Einstein.

Photos like that one reminded Tsukasa Shishio that there was so much time he hadn’t been with Senku Ishigami.

When Minami asks Tsukasa if she can interview him, he agrees. Just as Tsukasa understands Ryusui’s job, he also understands hers. Minami documents the Kingdom of Science because, without her, there’d be little to no proof of existence and progress in the Stone World. Her photographs will be in future museums. She serves as a social camaraderie cornerstone, similar to young Suika’s humor and Gen’s charismatic demeanor. Her camera supports Senku’s likeability and legacy. She’s by far the most well-equipped woman for such an important responsibility, having been a reporter before the petrification.

As he introduces himself to her camera, his voice is far away, and he doesn’t look into her lens. He declares his new role gravely; with the second life Senku has given him, he will ensure that science is not dirtied by exploitation and greed.

When he finishes his statement, Minami’s bewildered response rings in his ears. Tsukasa essentially professed himself to be the Kingdom of Science’s bodyguard, no doubt flustering the reporter with his seriousness. From the bottom of his blackened heart, he wanted them to know he was their ally now, and he was ready to lay down his life for Senku.

Minami’s expression shifts into a confused smile as she finally stops recording. Tsukasa studies the bow of her lips, her long hair, and her shell headpiece. Her wide hips. 

His gaze falls to his patchy shoes. Briefly, he remembers how Senku assumed Minami was his type—a woman Tsukasa would be attracted to. Perhaps Senku had come to the wrong scientific conclusion. He feels nothing toward her but respect.

On the third night of the voyage, the Kingdom of Science is hit with a storm.

The seas quickly become choppy. Droplets of rain go from small, delicate things to sharp, large weapons, spattering the ship’s deck like gunfire. Tsukasa finds Ryusui as soon as the weather begins to worsen. He doesn’t know where he’ll be needed, but he’s ready to do what he can to help keep the ship under control.

As expected, the captain is in the control room, spinning the wheel with one hand. The floor beneath them tilts and creaks, but he doesn’t give in. His left arm is extended toward the window that shields the cabin from the weather. Posed like this, Captain Ryusui resembles that of an American opera singer, or maybe an eclectic kabuki actor. He looks wild and untamed, able to not only navigate the churning waves but also conquer them. If he could, Ryusui may try and battle the storm with his bare fists.

Well, everyone in the Kingdom of Science had a few screws loose. Tsukasa would be the first to admit his own.

The first time Tsukasa met Ryusui, his gut urge was to avoid him. Ryusui was… distasteful. Too loud. Too greedy. Ryusui would’ve disgusted his old self, for the sole fact that he came from a ridiculously wealthy family and spent his money as he pleased, on useless material goods and a pipe dream. Ryusui’s youth was full of comforts Tsukasa never had, and the gap between them was filled with rich experiences he envied.

Despite that, he’s learning to value Ryusui as a commander and captain, only because Senku deeply respects him. By extension, Tsukasa has no problem taking orders from Ryusui. He’d even go so far as to say he thinks the captain is a decent human being. A bit crazy… but decent nonetheless.

Ryusui is not alone in the control room—Ukyo sits in a chair near the far wall, appearing unbothered by the torrential downpour slamming against the cabin windows. His fingers skim a button panel while his blue eyes scan what looks to be a sonar radar. A snowy fringe peeks out beneath his bright cap, the hair over his ears curling in the humidity. He’s biting his bottom lip in concentration.

“Tsukasa-chan? Is that you?”

Tsukasa flinches at the sultry tone. Since when was Gen down here?

The mentalist smirks, amused by the fact that he caught a rigid hunter like Tsukasa off-guard. Lightly, he explains, “Ukyo-chan and Ryusui-chan are usy-bay right now. Ryusui-chan’s orders are for the strongest men to hoist the sails—didn’t you hear?”

Tsukasa stares at the raccoonish man. “I wasn’t informed.”

“Ah, I know why!” Gen sticks a finger up, pouting. “That’s robably-pay because everyone is too scared to approach you!”

He isn’t fazed by this intentional jab. It’s not like he didn’t know that. His intimidation factor is preventing anyone on the ship from talking to him, and it’s painfully obvious.

No longer wanting to be the source of Gen’s amusement, he dips his head towards Ukyo and Ryusui. “Good luck, you two,” he says, having to raise his voice over a monstrous clap of thunder.

“Thanks, Strongest Primate High Schooler!” Ryusui howls, dipping his pirate hat with a crazed smile.

Ukyo glances over at Tsukasa for a brief second and hums his acknowledgment.

Tsukasa takes his leave. Immediately after stepping out, he’s hit by intense lashes of rain, and his shoes become sopping wet. He’s only grateful that he chose not to wear his fur cloak today.

The first two people that come to mind in terms of strength are Matsukaze and Taiju. He’s done simple martial arts sparring with Matsukaze since his revival, enough to know that the warrior has honed his muscles well. Although Taiju’s physical strength is nowhere near his own, his power had been obvious to Tsukasa since their revival many moons ago. If Hyoga wasn’t petrified still, his first choice would be him, but he doesn’t have time to mull over what-ifs. He sets off to find his allies of choice, the weighted slaps of his feet against wood melding with the chorus of rainfall. He runs against the misty wind and tries to gauge who’s nearby.

Kohaku, Kinro, Ginro, and small Suika are hoisting buckets of water over the side of the ship to stop the deck from flooding. Tsukasa has yet to have a conversation with any of those four. Not that it would be easy to, considering he was Ishigami Village’s prime enemy once, and they’re all village natives. Consequently, he’s reluctant to ask them for help with the sails—not that they’d have the raw strength necessary to hoist them anyway.

A few moments after he sees Ginro’s scrawny form, he notices Matsukaze farther down. The warrior is doing the same repetitive action as the Ishigami Villagers. He drains the ship’s deck with a wooden bucket as new waves crash and collapse onboard. Tsukasa would never understand why a disciplined and trained warrior like Matsukaze pledged his loyalty to a gremlin like Ginro, but that’s also not of concern right now; he has one order from Ryusui to relay, and he’s sure Matsukaze respects him enough to help. When Tsukasa requests his assistance, the black-haired warrior agrees without hesitation and immediately heads towards the ropes anchored to the deck.

Tsukasa will surely find Taiju wherever Senku is, so he scouts for tall, green hair on the deck. The flurry of bodies whipping past make it hard for him to see well, though. So many are of these people are strangers, too. Frustrated, Tsukasa finds no sign of the genius scientist or his close friend. He resorts to asking multiple passersby whether they’ve seen Senku since the storm began. No luck. He tries asking about Taiju as well, also to no avail. Tsukasa finds it incredibly odd that not one person onboard has seen a man as identifiable and important as Senku during this imminent weather crisis.

Where is Senku?

The question strikes Tsukasa like the rain that pelts his cheeks. He feels frozen, as cold as he was when he was dying—so cold, as if he’s dying all over again.

“Tsukasa? What’re ya doin’?”

Chrome’s curious voice shakes him from his worst thoughts. The apprentice’s dyed cloth shirt is soaked an even darker shade of blue, sticking to his thin frame, and the rope tie cinched around his hairline is slightly askew from its normal position. Tsukasa’s fists clench unconsciously at his sides. He turns his gaze downward on Chrome, trying his best to suppress the sudden fear clogging his throat.

“Chrome,” he utters, “have you seen Senku?”

“EH!?” Chrome yells over the creak of the ship’s hull and the wailing wind. “Did you say Senku?”

“Yes, have you seen him? I’m looking for him!”

“Nah… I haven’t! I was just about to head to the control room! Ya sure he’s not there?”

“He wasn’t there when I was, and that was less than ten minutes ago.”

Chrome frowns, squinting. His voice takes on an accusatory edge. “Ya tryin’ to say Senku is missing?”

“No,” Tsukasa shakes his head. “I’ve been asking around, but nobody has seen him, not since the storm hit. I think it’s fair to conclude that something happened. He needs to be found as soon as possible.”

“…Okay,” Chrome agrees after a short pause. The disciple’s defensiveness melts and his alertness increases as he processes Tsukasa’s request. “I understand! I’ll go to the control room and let Ryusui, Ukyo, and Gen know what’s goin’ on. If Senku is there, after all, I’ll come back up and let ya know! In the meantime, ya look for him up here, kay?”

It was a good plan. “If anyone passes you,” Tsukasa tells Chrome, “let them know to keep an eye out for Senku.”

“Got it! Let’s find our science master!”

Chrome reaches his hand for a fist bump, then realizes who exactly he’s trying to fist bump, and moves his hand back to his side with an awkward chuckle. “Good luck!” he wishes before scrambling away.

The crushing fear that had overtaken Tsukasa moments before dims to an urgent thrum in his chest. He continues scanning the bustling crowd of crewmates, checking around boxes and barrels, and triple-checking with everyone he encounters, but to his disadvantage, the mist thickens as the downpour worsens. Tsukasa can barely see ten feet in front of himself. The less he can see, the more he begins to worry, and the icy water running rivulets down his legs only tenses his body further.

Senku could be in danger right now. What is he doing? Where else could he be?

Just as he thinks he sees a strike of green hair, the ship careens left in an angular jolt. Tsukasa is embarrassed to admit he loses his balance. His elbow hits the deck hard, but he barely feels the pain—only knows that there will be a bruise when the storm clears. One barrel not secured to the deck is sent rolling right towards his face, and he narrowly dodges it by jerking his upper body to the right. The wood crashes and bursts into splinters against the railing, its contents spilling into the sea.

The ship rights itself with an echoing splash and a tsunami-like wave soars overhead. Before Tsukasa can stand, he’s struck by the recoil, and the weight of the water lands on his head and shoulders. His mood sours even more. His heart, too anxious to rest, only beats faster. Up until today, the sea had been kind to the Kingdom of Science, making for a pleasant voyage. It’d been a relief to finally travel; Tsukasa never had the chance to in his previous life. After that childhood incident pre-petrifcation, Tsukasa developed a hatred for the beach. When he’d decided on his career, he became trapped in the underground city as he boxed for blood money. He was too paranoid to travel more than several hours away from Mirai’s hospital and loathed the subway ads displaying vacation destinations. He worried that the day she woke up would be the day he was hundreds of miles from her bedside, should he indulge in any travel.

Tsukasa is thankful to Senku. Not just for saving his sister, but also for showing him how vast and amazing the ocean is.

Today, the water is a hostile and wicked force of nature. Tsukasa suppresses the base urge to glare at the puddles pooling and sloshing around his knees. He regains his balance on firmer footing and turns sharply in the direction he thought he’d spotted Senku.

A web of lightning cracks through the sky and allows Tsukasa to register the scene before him.

It was indeed Senku he saw, but…

The scientist’s face is screwed in pain and frustration. He’s scrabbling at something weighing down his left ankle—something preventing him from being able to stand. His spiky hair no longer stands stiff, instead plastered across his face and neck due to the rain, and his beige clothing clings to his pale skin. Its wet shape outlines lean muscles carved from manual labor in the Stone World. Senku looks purely exhausted, and the hollows of his eyes are made darker by the storm’s wrath. Tsukasa deduces that he probably hasn’t slept well since their first night on the ship.

It’s chilling to see Senku helpless. It reminds Tsukasa of their riverside battle against Hyoga. He hadn’t seen Senku soaking wet—nor with such a heaviness beneath his eyes—since that fateful day.

“Oi, Tsukasa? Is that you?” Senku’s voice carries on the throes of wind in a casual drawl, as though nothing were wrong. “Are you gonna help me or not?”

Tsukasa crosses the distance between them in a few strides, his heart thumping terribly in his chest, curling and warping. The crate that weighs down Senku’s leg is just beyond the scientist’s reach, and Tsukasa doesn’t know how long he’s been like this. He realizes that he feels vulnerable. How badly is Senku injured, he wonders? As an experienced fighter, Tsukasa knows what it sounds like to mask your physical pain when you speak, and Senku was doing just that.

He wasn’t there to protect Senku from being injured, and the thought stabs his chest like Hyoga’s kanryō spear.

Tsukasa leans down, hovering over Senku’s leg and deftly lifting the box onto its side. It’s not heavy for him, but objectively, Tsukasa can tell there are heavy things inside; if he were to throw the carton overboard, it would weigh enough to sink. For any average person, freeing your foot from underneath it would’ve been a struggle, and you’d already have to be flexible enough to stretch down your legs and grip it with both hands. Senku was not particularly flexible and had none of the abnormal strength Tsukasa did. If he hadn’t found Senku when he did, the weight of the crate might’ve caused permanent damage to Senku's ligaments and tendons or may have even caused an open injury. Tsukasa doesn’t see any blood in the runoff around them, but he runs his fingers over Senku’s skin to feel for cuts anyway.

“Wha—”

“Are you okay?” he interrupts. Talking with Senku is always about getting down to business, and the most pressing issue is whether or not the Kingdom of Science’s leader needs immediate medical attention.

“I’m not bleeding, bastard. I’m fine. Think I might’ve sprained my ankle, but—hey, why are you—”

Tsukasa rips the hem of Senku’s Stone World yukata with a clean, quick tear, and ignores his patient’s bewildered protest. He elevates the injured foot onto his lap with a gentleness unbecoming of his title, ignoring the rain that pelts his hair and the deck beneath them. With his free hand, he wraps the cloth around Senku’s malleolus, then below the sole of his foot, and back up the length of his ankle. His motions are routine and done in concentrated silence. He used to wrap his ankles after spraining them in the boxing ring. Wrapping someone else’s is almost as simple as breathing.

When the length of the cloth runs short, Tsukasa carefully and snugly tucks the free end in. It would be nice if he had a Bobby pin or athletic tape, but he doesn’t think Senku’s kingdom has advanced enough to make such things. This will have to do.

He briefly admires his work, hoping that the wrapping will help ease swelling after the storm passes, all while Senku flexes his toes and stares mutely at his mummified foot.

“It’s a temporary wrap for your ankle,” Tsukasa says belatedly.

“Bastard,” mutters Senku, “you worry too much.”

But the leader of the Kingdom of Science is smiling genuinely, fascinated with the makeshift treatment. Senku laughs, and a heart-clenching feeling returns to Tsukasa’s chest. The stormy maelstrom around them seems to stop for just a moment.

Tsukasa doesn’t register what he’s doing until his hand is atop Senku’s head. He rests it there for a second, and then two, and he finds himself wanting to dig his fingers in—to make sure this person is real and not a false image conjured to make his heart stumble. Senku’s red eyes widen and his mouth parts just a little, raindrops sliding down his nose and falling from his lips, rivulets catching on his lashes. He is beautiful. It’s a plain realization, but Tsukasa is glad he gets to see Senku like this, in times when his enigmatic hair and strong personality both waver. One droplet lodges itself in the corner of Senku’s mouth, and Tsukasa drops his hand from the scientist’s head to his cheek, brushing the sparkling bead away with his thumb. He can swear that he feels Senku shudder beneath his touch. For a moment, he closes his eyes and leans into the hand on his cheek, as though trying to alleviate his burdens by sharing them. Tsukasa watches in awe of Senku’s gentleness and sincerity, wishing there was more he could do. What did he want to do for Senku? What can he give?

Tsukasa would give anything to freeze the two of them in this moment, even if meant being petrified again.

Reluctantly, he brings his hand back to his side, every nerve in his palm still tingling from where he had touched Senku. He thought he’d lost feeling in his fingers long ago, a consequence of throwing too many punches. The rain becomes loud again and time resumes.

Senku recovers from his speechlessness in the staggering way only he can. The burdens he’d briefly shared were things he stole back, a familiar smirk returning to his face.

“What was that?”

Tsukasa can’t answer—doesn’t know how to. “Can you walk with your ankle?” he asks, diverting the conversation.

“Of course I can.”

“They need you in the control cabin.”

He sighs. “Of course. And where are you going?”

“To hoist the sails.”

Just like that, whatever Tsukasa had done was a thing of the past, and any affection the two of them bled washed away in an instant. Senku gives his soldier a curt nod and stands from the deck first, wringing out his water-logged clothing. Tsukasa follows suit, but just as he’s ready to head off for his task, Senku slips and falls on the deck.

The green-haired boy squawks in surprise. Without giving Senku room to disagree, Tsukasa states, “I’ll help you to the cabin.”

“I don’t need—“

“I’m taking you. Slipping and falling on an injured ankle will only make it worse.”

Senku’s shoulders relax as he gives in. The taller bends over to hook his arm around his friend’s back and under his shoulder, and he’s reminded just how small Senku is compared to himself. Their difference in body type and size was something Senku liked to snort about, and Tsukasa was obliged to let his leader tease. When they walked like this, it was like Senku fit perfectly in the breadth of his arm, and he was relieved to know it was he who could take Senku where he needed to go.

The ship doesn’t careen again, so Tsukasa delivers Senku to the cabin without a hitch. Gen is the first to notice their arrival, and his expressiveness reveals worry. He removes his hand from the back of Ukyo’s chair and rushes over to Senku’s side. His kimono is soaked, indicating that he’d been above deck at some point.

“Senku-chan! Where were you!? I was so scared!”

Ryusui chuckles something like, “I knew you were alive, Senku!” but his voice is hard to hear from across the cabin.

“Are you alright?” Gen notices the ankle wrapping and gasps. “That looks ainful-pay!”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just a minor thing.” The aggravated scientist beckons Tsukasa to let him go. He straightens to walk, but there’s a visible limp in his gait as he shuffles past Gen, over to Ukyo’s seat.

“We need your help with the engine,” the archer says without looking up.

“The engine?”

Tsukasa takes that as his cue to leave. He’s not the best with the science stuff, and he should’ve been hoisting the sails a long time ago before he coincidentally ran into Chrome and then impulsively switched his priority to finding Senku.

Now that the Kingdom of Science’s leader is safe, Tsukasa must play his part.

“Tsukasa-chan!” Gen’s sly, high-pitched voice is definitely loud enough to be heard over the storm. “Thanks for bringing back our dear sneaky scientist!”

He dips his head.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here, bastards,” Senku says gruffly, sticking a pinky finger in his ear. His hair—still wet—reaches just past his shoulders and drips water all over the cabin floor. “Anyway, I’ll take care of the engine now. Take me to where the issue is.”

“Of course,” Gen says, and they head towards the rear together.

Tsukasa’s memory flashes back to his palm on Senku’s head. He can practically feel the boy’s skin and hair, a ghost lingering in his palm. He’d placed his hand there impulsively and instantaneously. He had no justification for doing what he did; it was a response to adrenaline and relief, and there was something he was trying to convey. Other than that he could provide no logical reason.

The memory remains sensational and tangible in his mind. He can practically hallucinate it—Senku’s face, stricken with frustration. His eyebrows contorting in pain as the barrel’s weight was lifted. Tsukasa, who considered throwing it overboard out of spite. The sound of the barrel’s contents moving as he set it upright. His hand, coming to rest on Senku’s scalp, so softly and shaking, and his heart thumping outside his chest. Beads of water running down Senku’s face, stuck on his eyelids; one, falling to rest on his lip. Moving to brush the rain away and feeling the scientist freeze beneath his thumb. Senku’s wide, red eyes staring at him, puzzled, then burning with embers of embarrassment before regaining their peculiar, mischievous gleam.

Are you gonna help me or not? he’d remarked, as though he weren’t immobile.

The absent wound over Tsukasa’s left lung stings.

“I’ll be at the sails,” he announces to the group.

Ryusui responds with a jovial laugh. “Have fun!”

The Strongest Primate High Schooler realizes too late that Senku will probably neglect his injury. He’ll have to make sure Senku is taking care of himself after the storm passes.

Tsukasa Shishio was a man of few words and a befriender of the quiet.

Though he was known for his charisma, and his voice had the distinctively deep baritone of someone too strong for the world to comprehend, he spent the majority of his time in the Kingdom of Might talking to no one. He made the occasional conversation with Hyoga and his subjects when he left the throne room; he had, to keep their spirits high and his reputation polished. But other than that, he spent hours in silence, devolving into himself with the muted sounds of labor echoing outside his straw and wood cave.

Unfortunately, being on a ship with the Kingdom of Science was a culture shock. Not only because so many of the people here seemed like family, connected by bonds that Tsukasa felt estranged from, but because Tsukasa also had an obligation to speak.

This was not the half-empty, surface-level encouragements he gave out to his mightiest, dumbest men. This was not Hyoga asking him who to station on tonight’s watch, and Tsukasa answering shortly about rotating their troops.

This wasn’t Tsukasa talking to himself in a hospital room beside Mirai—his precious little sister, who couldn’t answer him.

Conversation within the Kingdom of Science was as vibrant as its members. In the voyage’s early days, Tsukasa’s reputation preceded him, and people were too scared to approach him. He’d killed Senku once, their well-respected and beloved leader, and he’d been the primary enemy of their forces. If he’d been a part of Senku’s kingdom for as long as some of these men and women, he wouldn’t trust someone like himself.

Tsukasa’s expectations shattered within the first week of the voyage. Chrome—Senku’s longtime friend and fellow scientist—had sidled up to Tsukasa on multiple occasions, studying his long hair and fur cloak with a mixture of mistrust and fascination. Tsukasa could not fault him. After all, Senku was dear to Chrome, and so Chrome was doing what he did best: observing. And many months ago, Tsukasa’s men had dangled Chrome over a waterfall, threatening him with death. Of course, Chrome would be wary of Tsukasa now.

Yet, it only took one night on the sea for Chrome’s curiosity to begin branching deeper, beneath Tsukasa’s surface. Then, he began asking questions.

These were questions that made Tsukasa think long and hard about himself. He couldn’t answer them in one word or skirt around an honest reply. Chrome was straightforward, and in this sense, he was more dangerous than Gen. A mentalist could only get so far with their tricks—but there were no pretenses when it came to Chrome’s insatiable curiosity.

Even if Tsukasa kept his words few, he found he didn’t hate talking to Chrome.

There’d been two whole years where he hadn’t seen Senku. The first, Senku spent expanding Ishigami Village and fighting his kingdom. The second, when he built a ship and ventured to nearby lands, searching for answers to the petrification. Tsukasa remained in a deep and cold sleep. He’d seen the physical effects of those two long years in Senku’s physique; the scientist had grown maybe three or four centimeters, and his arms and legs filled out. His jaw was harder set and his eyes more keen. He no longer looked like the youthful victim Tsukasa protected after they were first unpetrified.

That forgotten time Senku spent inventing and growing and exploring… Tsukasa was curious about what it had been like. His most unforgettable memories with Senku happened so long ago that now, they resembled dried fishes on a riverbank. When he’d told the truth about his childhood to Senku, the sunset as their only witness, the rifts in their relationship split open. Tsukasa’s voice melded into a rage; visceral grief sloshed at his ankles. He remembers sand between his toes and Senku’s voice, hanging on a precipice, growing harsher when Tsukasa’s fist found stone. He’d killed a person back then. It was his first time wielding his fist against someone who could not move, and the first time he’d told the story of his life to anyone.

Fast forward to when those rifts had grown slim: Tsukasa reminisces about blurry visions of Senku in that cave, light words passing between the two of them, staving off reality. Tsukasa never understood “pointless conversation,” because if he couldn’t afford his sister’s hospital bills, how could he afford to spare a few words? But Senku made him want to talk about nothing, because there was everything between them. A universe of what could’ve been, and a universe of what had been. Admiration, anger, death, sacrifice, trust. There was something so profoundly sad about Senku stitching up his lung, doing his best to keep his trembling hands steady. Tsukasa remembers Senku’s voice, wavering and breaking like waves, and the wounds of his soul being carried out to sea.

Tsukasa wanted to recapture the feelings that had passed between them. He yearned to try and start a new conversation with Senku, but that was impossible. Senku was always surrounded by people. The hours spent together in the waterfall cave and the moment during yesterday’s storm were select instances neither could guarantee.

Senku had a kingdom to run. Tsukasa was fine with that.

And so—if Tsukasa couldn’t talk to Senku—that meant Chrome was his next best source of news.

Tsukasa quickly learned that speaking with Chrome was mutually beneficial, because once he began answering Chrome’s questions, the scrawny village boy started to answer his own. It was a trade-off. Their first conversation was limited to simple greetings, but they soon began to extend past small talk, and within three days of Chrome’s incessant chatter, Tsukasa began responding. The two would spend hours on deck exchanging stories when Chrome wasn’t otherwise occupied with Senku’s teachings. Tsukasa learns about the observatory, which had been Senku’s seventeenth birthday present. Chrome tells him about mining expeditions and hot air balloons and earpieces. Chrome also takes his time explaining the full encounter on Treasure Island, from start to finish. Tsukasa heard parts from Matsukaze during sparring, but Chrome describes each encounter in detail, including Senku’s final battle.

Treasure Island’s inhabitants had all been petrified, but before Chrome and his crew turned to stone, they’d lined themselves up at intervals for Senku to calculate the exact moment the petrification beam would reach him. Using instantaneous mental math, Senku unpetrified himself by timing a splash of revival fluid at the perfect millisecond. He then used a telephone built during the Stone Wars to petrify and defeat the corrupt ruler Ibara, successfully acquiring the petrification device. Said petrification device was brought back to America and used to revive Tsukasa.

Perhaps it’s the way Chrome tells the story, emphasizing Senku’s various feats with comic sappiness, but Tsukasa once again marvels at Senku’s bravery and brilliance. He leans over the ship’s ledge as Chrome rambles on. The air tastes like salt and shame, and it’s a humble reminder that he was foolish to have ever tried stopping Senku’s world-saving quest.

“Chrome? Where’ve you been?” Kohaku’s voice approaches. “Senku has been looking for you, you know.”

“Me?” Chrome immediately stops his train of thought. “Senku is?”

Kohaku inclines her head at Tsukasa. “Hello,” she directs. Then, turning back to Chrome: “Who else, dummy? Yes, you. It’s for science, I don’t know, but you should go see him. He’s in the mobile lab.”

“Hell yeah! Thanks, Gorilla!”

Chrome starts running, then freezes. Pivots back.

“Ah… Tsukasa,” he says apologetically, rushing his words. “Sorry we couldn’t talk more. Uh—let’s continue this conversation another time!”

Tsukasa’s chest warms. He wonders if this is what it means to feel welcome.

And suddenly he understands. There was a reason why it was Chrome who’d stuck with Senku from the very beginning. Nobody but Chrome could’ve taken on generations of scientific knowledge in a few long lectures. Chrome was the only person from the Stone World capable of handling and even challenging Senku’s intelligence. His unbridled loyalty and unending spirit were the sole compliments to Senku’s constant sarcasm and unseriousness.

Chrome had fought for Senku, sacrificed for Senku, burned himself out for Senku. In doing so, he unknowingly fulfilled the promise Tsukasa broke.

Tsukasa owes that scrawny boy his pride for keeping Senku safe, doesn’t he?

He notices Kohaku scrutinizing him, and he realizes that he owes her his pride, too.

“Sure,” Tsukasa says simply. “I’m available to talk anytime, Chrome.”

The apprentice scientist bursts into laughter suddenly, wiping at his face as though crying amused tears. Tsukasa’s eyebrows draw together. Was something he said funny? The corner of Kohaku’s mouth twitches, as though she might laugh.

“You can speak less formally with us,” Chrome cackles. “Oops—I have to go now! Thanks for telling me about Senku, Kohaku-chan!”

He scurries off in the direction of the upper deck with a farewell grin.

Kohaku’s jaw clenches at his disappearing form, her eyes drilling into the back of his head. “He’s still calling me Gorilla, huh?” she says. “Let’s see how he likes some gorilla kicks later.”

Tsukasa can’t help the smile that crests over his face. He thinks briefly that Kohaku is pretty—that perhaps she’s Senku’s type of woman, with her small nose and spotless skin. She’s just as witty as Senku, too.

“Tsukasa?” Kohaku switches her attention back to the Kingdom of Might’s former leader, forced to crane her head to meet his eye. “Chrome was right when he said you can loosen up. You’re Senku’s dear friend—and our ally. At least I hope you are.”

“I’m your ally,” he says. “I’m… not used to speaking so much, that’s all.”

“It’s not every day you meet someone as outgoing as him,” she agrees, “but the formalities are still unnecessary. Senku told me you’re charismatic. That’s how you managed to build an empire on your own, and why Senku trusted you so much at first. You can show us that charisma. I’m sure it would increase your popularity, which you need.”

“Senku talked about me with you?”

“Of course he did. Knowing one’s enemy before going into battle increases the chance of victory.”

Right, he thinks flatly.

“Anyway,” she adds, yawning, “if you ever find it hard to listen to Chrome—I get it, he has feathers for brains—I don’t mind sharing some stories, either. I know you’re curious about Senku. And I want to get to know you, too. For myself.”

“For yourself.”

“Yeah, for me.”

“Are you romantically interested in me?”

The sound that comes out of Kohaku’s throat is something between a growl and a choke. “No! God, why did Senku also think that? I’m not—I don’t—there are no romantic feelings involved. None. I just figure it would be better to know you so we can… make up for our first meeting.”

Oh, right. Their first encounter (and one of their only encounters, up until this point) consisted of fighting. Kohaku was trying to make peace. To be honest, she makes him a little nervous, with the way her eyes twitch and her fists always appear to be clenched at her sides. Despite that, Tsukasa would like to know her as well. He’d fought her in serious combat and knew the extent of her agility. Kohaku is nowhere near as powerful as him, even when she’s armed and he’s empty-handed, but she’d been the first to challenge him alone in the Stone World. She was headstrong, said and did what she wanted, and yet at the same time Tsukasa felt there were things about her he understood—experiences they shared that might connect them. When he looked at Kohaku, Tsukasa saw a bit of himself. So he supposes it might be beneficial to talk with her, even if it meant having to talk about his mistakes. Not just for his redemption, but also for the welfare of Senku’s kingdom.

The silence stretches before he says, “Okay. Let’s get to know each other.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

She turns to walk off, seemingly done with their conversation. But she pauses like she has something else to say.

“Oh, and… I know I said you can talk to me, but Senku—“

She mutters something that sounds a lot like, I can’t believe I’m doing this for them, these idiots. Tsukasa chooses to ignore the possibility that he may’ve heard her correctly.

“Senku hasn’t admitted it yet, but he wants to talk with you too. If you took the time to speak to him, I’m sure he’d be grateful. There’s nobody he brings up more often than you, and nobody he speaks about more earnestly.”

The implications of Kohaku’s words are as clear as today’s forecast. Tsukasa remembers patting Senku’s head and touching his cheek like it was yesterday, and he almost, almost smiles.

“Later,” she finishes, her voice mild.

Her navy dress flutters as she leaves. Tsukasa does not linger on her form and returns his gaze to the glimmering ocean, tasting fresh salt on his tongue.

The next day is a bit of a blur, but Tsukasa Shishio is strangely glad Hyoga is back.

“I don’t have my mouth markings anymore,” the spear-wielder said dryly, taking to sleep in the bunk below Tsukasa’s.

“I lost my petrification scars too,” he answered. “Senku said it’s a result of being repetrified and revived.”

“Interesting. So you repainted yours with ink, then.”

“Yes.”

Rather than ask Hyoga why he was continuing to wear his mask when he had no petrification scars, or tell him to repaint his facial markings as a sign of loyalty to the Kingdom of Science, Tsukasa simply rolled onto his side and said, “Goodnight.”

You can atone for your sins, too.

Let’s be free.

Exactly one week into the voyage, Tsukasa Shishio finds himself narrating the ship’s poker match with Chrome. Chrome doesn’t know much about card games, since he’s not from the pre-petrification generation, so Tsukasa explains in small gestures and short words. Unsurprisingly, Chrome is a quick learner; Tsukasa assumes he picked up some knowledge on cards from Gen while in Ishigami Village. As a spectator, Tsukasa prefers being part of the “neutral” party, even if he believes wholeheartedly that Senku and Kohaku will win against Ryusui and Gen. This is because it cannot be known how much he favors Senku—how his preferences play a role in his decision to be on this voyage.

Senku reveals a royal straight flush, and Tsukasa claps. Kohaku’s proud smile, Taiju’s rambunctious celebration, and Senku’s swollen face make for a pleasing conclusion to a tense game.

Celebrations afterward are rowdy. Francois hands him a drink that glows blue in the night, and Tsukasa holds his glass up to the starry sky, admiring how it illuminates the scars on his fingers. The first sip of his custom virgin cocktail registers with his taste buds, and Tsukasa feels like this drink indeed belongs to him. It’s slightly sweet but predominantly tart and pungent, and the carbonation from the tonic water makes his mouth fizzle. He downs the drink in five seconds and Francois smiles when he asks for a second.

Wanting a break from the main celebration, Tsukasa heads in the direction opposite the makeshift bar, where the crew has crowded to receive drinks of their own. The aftertaste of grenadine lingers strong on his taste buds, and he takes another sip, letting the refreshing liquid slide down his throat. It’s nice like this, chilled drink in hand and nobody to bother him. He’d spent most of his days since the first storm catching fish, moving supplies, and doing manual upkeep for the ship. The labor is beginning to catch up to someone even as strong as himself.

Keeping some space between himself and the members of the Kingdom of Science was best. Many avoided him or asked him questions without staying to hear his answers. Whoever approaches is frequently someone new—someone whose name Tsukasa doesn’t know but finds himself wanting to commit to memory, even if they’re terrified of his existence. Before, it was Chrome doing the asking, but Kohaku, Ryusui, and even Moz have all prodded into his life at some point since, asking after the times he ruled his kingdom. It seems obligatory for Tsukasa to answer the questions they pose as if to prove his loyalty by repeating his wrongdoings aloud. He switches his glass from his left hand to his right and smiles. There are no questions right now.

He stays like that for who knows how long, listening to the water against the ship, feeling his hair brush his cheeks. Tsukasa feels untamed. In vertigo, in speculation, in mourning. He wonders briefly how Mirai is doing. He hopes his sister misses him where she is back in Japan because he misses her.

“Tsukasa.”

He hears the greeting several seconds after he registers who is approaching.

Senku’s footsteps are as familiar as his own. The scientist walks like he speaks, in drawling, wide strides, swallowing the world with his arrival. Tsukasa merely inclines his head and gestures to the space beside him, as if to say, You’re free to join me.

Senku does, stepping forward to rest his forearms on the ship’s ledge. Tsukasa doesn’t turn to face him; he only catches fragments of Senku’s leafy hair and reddish, dirt eyes from his peripheral vision. It seems that the swelling from his allergic reaction is gone, his cheeks and lips no longer puffy from the lacquered poker cards and chips. What a relief. He’d looked ridiculous.

Tsukasa is grateful Senku doesn’t bother speaking to him immediately. They have no urgent battle to discuss, no final words to exchange, no imminent death to confront. Tsukasa still is unused to just existing.

“You’re unusually serene,” his companion says offhandedly. Senku sounds as sardonic as ever, unbothered and perhaps even bored.

“The ocean is nice,” Tsukasa responds.

“Nice? The most deadly species on Earth live under there. Stonefish, box jellyfish, the blue-ringed octopus, and some more. Not that many of them live in these waters thanks to the climate. But the ocean ain’t a safe place.”

The brown-haired man turns his head and gives Senku a long stare.

“Ah,” says Senku, snorting. “I should know they wouldn’t phase ya. You used to spear sharks for food.”

The memory flits between the two of them like the night cloud overheard, too far from any shore.

“So, the voyage should take about forty days from here?” Tsukasa shifts the topic and references Senku’s argument with Ryusui. Since he’d won the poker match, their ship would be taking the shorter route to North America.

“It’s just an estimate, but a good one if you account for storms,” he explains. “I predict we’ll hit at least one more since we’re navigating through the northern Pacific. The global thermohaline current during the second half of our journey has warmer waters than the first, meaning more moisture in the air and more rain… but at least we don’t have to sail against the current! It rotates in a clockwise circle around the Pacific, so travel will be a little faster for us.”

Tsukasa listens while Senku discusses the science of it, watching the light spark in his gaze, following the animated way his hands move following his words. He doesn’t look foolish or messy. His actions are carefully, and artfully drawn out, and his mouth moves with a certain emphasis.

“You’re confident that Ryusui can get us through another storm,” Tsukasa states because Senku isn’t anxious about the idea of another storm in the slightest—even when he was hurt during the first.

“I ten billion percent wouldn’t have revived him otherwise.”

Sure, Tsukasa thinks lightly. Just like the only reason you revived me was because you needed a strong warrior on the moon.

The truth was, Senku revived people who piqued his interest. He may justify it as them being useful in one way or another, but Tsukasa was intimately aware of just how sentimental Senku was towards friends, enemies, and strangers alike. He tended to cover it up with an erratic grin and funky enthusiasm, but he was compassionate in the way he treated others, and that same compassion extended to the entire planet. He was soft. Tsukasa liked that softness but knew why Senku disguised it. Some emotions could only exist between the scientist and the stars above.

Senku wanted to save all seven billion people. The bad people and the good. Enemies. Allies. Even himself, and that was something Tsukasa was still internalizing, although Senku had told him to get over it.

He gestures to the drink in his companion’s hand. “What’s your special?” 

“This?” Senku brings the glass to eye level. “A custom cocktail. I told Francois I didn’t want one, but they insisted. They named it the Three Layer Tea Latte—kinda girlish if you ask me. Tea on the bottom, milk in the middle, and matcha whip to finish. A touch of gum syrup, too.”

“Do you like it?”

“Sorta. It’s a little sweet. Wanna try?”

Tsukasa is startled by the movement of Senku’s hand as he offers his drink.

“That’s… unsanitary. I will ask Francois for my own.”

“Bastard, it’s fine. Are you a germophobe or something?” Senku is disturbingly unbothered by the idea of sharing his drink. “Both our bodies have become seriously resistant to bacterial and viral strains. We’re survivors of the Stone World… we’re ten billion percent less likely to get sick now than we were before the petrification. The more antigens a person is exposed to, the more B lymphocytes are prepared to fight bodily invasions by recognizing—”

“I know what the immune system is.”

“So you can sip my drink,” Senku declares without missing a beat.

Tsukasa looks between the scientist and his tricolored cocktail and thinks it’s funny that Francois used matcha to match Senku’s unique hair color. And maybe it’s also funny that the butler put some sentiment into this drink, too. Matcha is bitter, but hojicha is sweet and smoky. Francois was probably alluding to the fact that Senku has a sweet side, though it’s buried underneath his visibly aloof behaviors.

“I’ll try it.”

Senku passes the glass and watches somewhat innocuously as Tsukasa takes a sip.

The flavors meld in delicious harmony. He can’t help but admire Francois’ work even more, because Senku’s drink is smooth and pillowy while maintaining bold notes. Though he only took a sip, Tsukasa received a bit of everything. Creamy, fresh milk compliments the fluffy texture of the matcha whip and the herbal liquidity from the tea. He tastes hints of earthiness and even the tang of sweetness Senku mentioned, humming a note of satisfaction.

“It’s good.”

“Mm,” Senku agrees, taking his drink back. Tsukasa feels the small, calloused fingers brush his swollen knuckles, and for some reason, his mouth goes dry.

Tsukasa takes a sip of Grenadine and Tonic to quench his thirst. For a moment, he regrets washing away the taste of Senku’s drink so soon, then realizes just how ridiculous that thought is. He can go to Francois for one later if he likes it so much.

“You know,” Senku starts, “your drink is based on a rock, actually.”

“A… rock?”

“At least pretend to be a little more knowledgeable.” The scientist points toward Tsukasa’s cocktail. “It started glowing blue under black light, right? Well, black light is a form of UV light. When we were back in Ishigami Village, Suika found a rock called scheelite, which contains Tungsten—atomic number 74–also known as the strongest metal in the world. At the time, we needed a more heat-resistant material to make filament for the prototype cell phone, since bamboo was burning too quickly against our light bulbs.”

“What does that have to do with my drink glowing blue?”

Senku grins and takes a sip of his latte in the same place where Tsukasa’s lips had just been—not on purpose, definitely not, but the sight is disarming. “Scheelite glows blue if it’s exposed to UV rays. The reason that I was able to confirm Suika’s gemstone was scheelite was because it started glowing at sunrise, the time of day when it’s most likely for natural UV light to be produced.”

“So… my cocktail is a tribute to the gemstone that helped the Kingdom of Science win the war against me,” he surmises.

“Don’t put it like that, bastard. And before you start thinking it was me who told Francois about the scheelite, it wasn’t. Stories have been going around—most of ‘em coming from Chrome. So I guess Francois heard about the tungsten story and then… well, ya know the rest.”

While Tsukasa feels slightly disrespected by the notion behind Francois’ drink, he knows the butler had more than one intention. After all, if Tungsten was the strongest existing metal, Francois was also complimenting his physicality. He brings the drink to his lips again, and though it isn’t glowing right now, he remembers how it glowed back at the bar.

Tsukasa turns toward Senku, eyes catching on the fresh wrap around his ankle. A beige cloth sewn by Yuzuriha trails the length of his leg, ending about a quarter up his shin. The injury appears to have been expertly stabilized, but Tsukasa hadn’t touched Senku’s ankle since the incident.

“Who wrapped it?”

The shorter one tilts his head. “What?”

“Your ankle. Who wrapped it?”

“Huh? What, is it wrapped wrong?” Senku makes a funny face and glances downward. “It’s not wrapped wrong.”

“Yes, I’m aware. In fact, it’s wrapped well. That’s why I’m asking who did it.”

“Oh, uh.” Senku notices Tsukasa’s stony expression. “I did, but why does that matter?”

He shoves down his relief. Though he doesn’t know why, the idea of someone else who wasn’t him gently handling Senku’s injury and seeing that vulnerable side of his was… perturbing. He wanted to be Senku’s primary protector, and that included taking responsibility for his leader’s injuries. Maybe it was ridiculous that he carried such possessiveness, but he knew he was most suited to serving Senku should their leader come to any harm. Which he wouldn’t—not if Tsukasa had anything to say about it.

“Where’d you learn to wrap like that?” he prods. “Is joint stabilization just another facet of science you’ve memorized?”

”Both. I do know a lot about anatomy and treating injuries. Like stitches—I learned how to stitch pretty young. But I’ve never had to wrap my ankle or anyone else’s before.” Senku pauses to rub the back of his neck. “This is kinda embarrassing, but I’ve been wrapping it based on your initial job. I learned from what I saw.”

Surprised, Tsukasa takes a small step back. He’d been able to teach this scientific prodigy something? What an honor.

“Looks like it’s healing nicely. Regardless, you should make sure you wrap it fresh every day. And come to me if you need help, yes?”

“Don’t make me gag.”

Tsukasa promptly shuts up and downs his drink in one go.

The Ishigami nurses his matcha concoction, elbows digging into the railing as he takes in the ocean view. If it were daytime, the Kingdom of Science’s leader would be studying the horizon, sniffing the air, and performing humidity tests to predict today’s weather. Tsukasa had seen him doing it once and overheard something about dew points. He didn’t understand it, and he couldn’t stick around because of his crew duties, but he admired that work ethic from afar.

He blots at his fondness for the man next to him and steps away. Tsukasa sensed that Senku wanted to be alone, and he was obliged to head to a different deck so as not to disturb him further.

“I’ll be taking my leave. It was nice speaking with you.”

“You’re heading back to the bunks?”

“No.”

“The party?”

“No.”

Senku snorts through his nose. “Then where are you going? Stay here.”

An order is an order. The lion-slayer takes his position right back at Senku’s side, and he waits for his leader to talk. Instead of starting another light conversation, the shorter shuffles over until he’s closed the distance between them, and then leans a little bit of his weight into the taller’s cloak. Tsukasa is loathe to admit that he actually freezes. Senku Ishigami was a specimen who rarely engaged in physical contact with anyone. Had something shifted between them the night of the storm?

His suit lapels flutter with a gust of wind. Senku doesn’t look for a reaction and merely settles in against Tsukasa’s bicep. Was it okay to reveal new sides of each other like this? Could Tsukasa let this possessiveness overtake him and seize Senku as his own? He wanted to steal the soul beside him, one who wordlessly wormed its way into his heart. It was the obscure things Senku did that reminded him they were both human, and every second of reprieve was something he needed to cherish.

The Strongest Primate High Schooler stares at Senku, who eyes the water’s dark depths. 

“It might rain tomorrow,” he observes. 

“How do you know?”

Senku’s index finger stretches over the water, his hand turning. “Hm,” he says, “just a feeling.”

It was strange. Senku didn’t run by feelings. He ran by facts and numbers and logic. But maybe it would rain tomorrow, and Senku didn’t need a gauge or a radar to make his guess. Some storms came by surprise, and like moments of vulnerability, all they needed was time to gather before there was a downpour.

He doesn’t pull Senku closer. If he did, he’d throw himself overboard.

Fourteen routine days pass, and Senku makes a public announcement that they are now closer to America than they are to Japan. Tsukasa spent the fortnight continuing his duties and gathering additional skills for when they reached land, aiding Francois in the kitchen and studying edible plants native to the North and South American continents. Nobody on the boat knew what to expect; they were unsure if anyone had awoken from petrification overseas, and if they had, what developments they’d made. They didn’t know if the foreigners would be friends or foes. 

This anticipation created feelings inside Tsukasa that hadn’t been felt since the Stone Wars. It was the same feelings that arose within him before he entered the fighting cage. The understanding that your eyesight and coordination are sharpening; the desire to crush whoever might be in your way. There was no better word to use than primal, and this primalism was only amplified by his desire to protect Senku. As part of the preparation for the new world, they’d begun requiring every member of the Perseus to take basic combat lessons.

Matsukaze and Kohaku were in charge of self-defense training while Tsukasa taught basic offense. The distribution suited them well. Ship members had their training sessions in groups and their sparring progress was documented. Two lessons per week was the requirement set by Senku (only after Kohaku nagged him to “Be an actual leader”) but there was one small issue. Their leader had not attended any of the lessons himself.

Now, it would be sensible to assume the leader was exempt from combat training. He was the genius scientist who built this ship suited for intercontinental sailing, and he was always progressing with new inventions in the mobile lab aboard. Tsukasa had started paying more attention to Senku’s late nights as he was stationed on night shifts. It was safe to say Senku didn’t get much rest.

Tsukasa hadn’t brought this qualm to anyone’s attention as a result. Neither Kohaku nor Matsukaze seemed to care that their leader was skipping, as the latter chose to focus on Ginro while the former was a bit too honest as she taught. And while they moved through the world without seeming to care, Tsukasa was different. Senku’s repeated absence was a small, sharp hook tugging at his gut.

He knew Senku was a busy man. And yet, even a busy man could spare the time to learn how to defend himself. If the scientist were to find himself in a dangerous situation, and if Tsukasa could not be there to save him, what would…?

Two weeks passed without a word between them. Tsukasa couldn’t find the time to strike up a conversation despite the memory of Kohaku’s words. Maybe their conversation that night after the poker game had satiated whatever desire Senku had to talk with Tsukasa. The warrior didn’t know where he stood—where they stood. It was because of this that he was hesitant to approach.

After the third week of training passed with no sign of Senku, Tsukasa’s frustrations began to show. While Hyoga was still not welcomed by most of the ship, he was an excellent co-instructor during Tsukasa’s lessons, as the two could provide synchronized demonstrations during lessons. He hated how keen Hyoga was, though. The spear-user could tell throughout their lesson this evening that something wasn’t right, and he didn’t shy from it once their crewmates were gone.

“You seem pissed today,” he says, almost childishly. Tsukasa can tell Hyoga is poking for a reaction. 

“Just the weather.”

“Weather, huh? Didn’t know Senku Ishigami and the weather were synonyms.”

He bristles.

“It’s obvious.” Hyoga stretches his legs, rolling his shoulders and shrugging. “Well, not to anyone who doesn’t know you. But I do. Senku Ishigami has always been a meddlesome presence in your life. And yet you still choose to let your heart win over your head. It’s quite amusing to watch you flounder.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tsukasa says darkly.

“Ah, there it is! That expression… it brings me back.”

There is a hint of manic nostalgia in Hyoga’s voice, as though pushing the lion slayer’s buttons gave him a type of pleasure he could not contain. Pressing down his aggravation, Tsukasa turns away from Hyoga, who is no doubt gleaming behind his black mask.

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting it, you know.”

Tsukasa shrugs on his cloak.

“You are infatuated. Honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

He whips around, eyes slim and patience slimmer. “If you continue to talk like this, I will take it as your betrayal to the Kingdom of Science.”

“Okay, okay,” Hyoga repeats, putting his hands up. He lets out a chuckle, clearly pleased with the fruits of his labor.

The Shishio turns back around to leave for the main deck, thoroughly annoyed by Hyoga’s decision to bring things to light. As much as Tsukasa enjoyed serving Senku, it was easier to manage sly foxes like Hyoga when he was his own leader. Now they were on equal standing in the Kingdom of Science as enemies-turned-allies, and Tsukasa held no power over him. Not even the deathly wound he’d delivered was enough to grant Hyoga some humility. Truly, some people never changed.

He thinks he hears Hyoga mumble something on his way out, but he doesn’t bother to decipher it.

“You… what are you doing here?”

Tsukasa stares at the figure on the deck, whistling and refusing to meet his eye.

It was the third week of training, and only a week or so remained of their journey. As they neared the shores of the Americas, Tsukasa found himself more and more preoccupied with Senku, worrying that the scientist’s defective self-defense skills would put him in a tricky position with their potential enemies. Even worse was the idea that there would be readily equipped scientists there to challenge them. He was sure Senku was the smartest person on the planet, but all the enemy needed was a split second to overtake him.

Senku was strongest with a strong entourage. But a chain was only as strong as its weakest link. Empowered with knowledge, Senku was hardly the weakest, and yet… these irrational fears seemed to persist.

He refused to give in to them—the logical and levelheaded man that he was. Which was why he was more than surprised to see Senku appear before him on the deck, fifteen minutes after today’s combat lessons had concluded. Tsukasa had already set aside the weights, sandbags, and mats he used to help the crew train, and he was preparing to adjust the sails for a windy night. There was a peculiar tension in the air as he stood there, waiting for Tsukasa to speak first. This was unlike Senku, who spoke first and seemed prepared for every encounter and possibility. They were walking through territory unfamiliar to them both.

He dares to repeat himself. “What are you doing here?”

The red in Senku’s eyes flickers as his whistling ceases. “Ah… I was just…”

“Stopping by to see how things were going?”

Sure, that makes sense. He’s supposed to be overseeing the ship.

“That’s Ryusui’s job as captain,” Senku says as if reading the taller’s mind.

“Well, you don’t do things for no reason.”

“…Yep.” 

“Are you trying to make me guess?” Tsukasa waves his arm dismissively. “I need to get to the sails. Just say what you need to.”

“You’re cranky,” Senku says matter-of-factly.

“It’s late.”

There is a pause in the air as the Shishio tampers down his frustration. Getting upset with Senku for no particular reason would only make his lingering feelings deepen. If he were to cause a rift between them before they landed, the Kingdom’s leader and his strongest soldier would be setting a terrible example for their citizenry. Part of learning to serve meant learning to let go, and harboring these petty, irrational, and illogical emotions did neither of them any good.

Senku sighs, rubbing his temples. “I came here… for training.”

His voice gets so quiet that Tsukasa thinks he heard it incorrectly.

“I was… I’ve been busy, y’know? It’s not my goal to be special. I’m not above anyone on this ship—hell, even Taiju and Ryusui have been training, right? It’s just that the weeks have passed pretty quickly, and I’ve been thinking about a lot. Sorta in the middle of a project. Anyway, I’m here now, so…”

Tsukasa tilts his head. He can visualize his leader’s tiredness, and his words bleed honesty. Despite this, Senku still isn’t looking him directly in the eye, and he can almost taste the half-truth spilling between his exhausted cracks. It sours the air between them and pushes open the rift Tsukasa tried to keep shut.

“Alright, then,” he concedes. “I’ll do the sails first, and then we can train.”

“About that—I already handed the task over to Hyoga.”

Tsukasa can’t see the front deck too well from where they are, but looking more closely at the sails, he can see them shifting bit by bit. They’ll need to adjust the height as the wind currents tonight will be a bit higher than normal, but he immediately knows that Senku already instructed Hyoga to do that, too.

It makes him feel a little worse that Senku went to Hyoga (of all their capable men), jealousy biting at his brain. He was capable of doing his assignments—of proving his own worth. Assigning someone else meant that Senku wanted to train with him in particular, though, didn’t it?

“Let’s start,” Senku huffs and shakes his hair, several strands falling loose from their sentry positions.

As he wished. 

Tsukasa removes a straw mat from a barrel and lays it out, beckoning the scientist to his side. With Senku in his near vicinity, he begins calculating the force he’ll need for their lesson in his head, taking into account the shorter boy’s leanness and large, strong calves. Most of Senku’s strength lay in his legs and core. He would have to teach the self-defense techniques that utilized both and leave the offensive moves to Senku’s science tricks. An acid splash in the eyes would work against even the nimblest of men, or they could even reuse the taser method which had allowed them to beat Hyoga. 

“I’ll teach you some self-defense moves,” Tsukasa instructs, unclasping his cloak to free his arms. He can feel Senku’s eyes linger on his bare abdomen, and where that normally wouldn’t matter (he receives many stares with or without a cloak), Senku’s attention provides a particular satisfaction. He was not one to admire bodies. And considering they’d seen nearly every part of each other, winning Senku’s gaze now felt like a triumph. “If you have any questions, ask. If any part of your body begins to hurt, speak.”

“Blunt,” grumbles Senku.

“Do you understand?”

“Yea, yea. Let’s—”

“Your ankle. Is it fully healed?”

Senku glances down as if the answer were obvious. “It’s not wrapped, and it hasn’t been hurting for the past week and a half. It’s fine.”

Are you sure? Tsukasa bites back his words. He can’t sound too much like a nagging mother.

“Then we’ll begin.”

Tsukasa starts every lesson by asking what the student thinks they should do in a certain scenario. He outlines to Senku a situation in which an attacker has approached him, preparing to punch his head. Men and women alike answer him by saying, “Go for the balls.” Unsurprisingly, Senku says the same.

While it’s technically not an incorrect answer, self-defense focuses on defense first and offense second. He was known for a strong offense during his time in underground boxing, but he taught himself both sides of the ring so that he never felt helpless.

“Going for the groin can only happen with the right angle and aim,” Tsukasa teaches, “and it wouldn’t work if your attacker was a woman. If someone were to try and punch your head, your priority is to protect it.”

He grabs Senku’s arm at the elbow and brings it up to his temple. “Like this. You’ll need to react quickly for the block to be successful, but it’ll be much easier to gain leverage if your arm is hit instead of your skull. You’ll need to combine this block with a move of your own to stop your attacker. In any case, you must go for a vulnerable point on the body.”

“Like the eyes?” Senku finishes, getting into the lesson. 

“Yes, or the liver, spleen, or neck. If they’re tall, you could simply stomp on the feet. Go ahead and try to punch me, and I’ll demonstrate.”

“Me? Punch you?”

Tsukasa nods. “You should see it happen before you attempt to do it yourself.”

He takes a light defensive stance as Senku winds up an inexperienced fist. Due to their height difference, Senku can only punch as high as his lower jaw, and he jerks his arm up to block with ease. At the same moment, he rears his other arm and uses an open, stiff hand to aim at Senku’s eye. His arms arc around the surprised scientist who has no time to jerk backward. He expertly pauses his movement mere centimeters from the red eye before him, frozen open in surprise.

“W-Woah,” he says as he stumbles back. “I don’t think I could ever be that smooth, even if I practiced in my sleep. Thanks for not poking my eye out.”

Tsukasa doesn’t laugh but feels himself relax in kind. “Now, I’ll try to punch you,” he gestures. “When you defend you can aim anywhere you like, and use all the force you have.”

“Uh, okay.”

Tsukasa heads over to grab a cloth, wrapping it around his fist as a makeshift glove. They hadn’t remade those yet since entering the Stone World, and so they were the second-best option for padding his fist. If he were to misjudge and accidentally hit someone—which hadn’t happened due to his preciseness—their injuries would be less severe.

“Ya think I’m a wuss,” Senku comments, eyeing his cloth-covered fist. “Actually, you’re a beast-human. This is fair.”

Senku’s idle sarcasm only unravels Tsukasa’s tension more. He approaches the mat and takes on a stance while Senku awaits, positioned in the defensive manner he’d been taught. There was a beat and then two before Tsukasa snaps his fist forward, aiming for Senku’s left temple.

The scientist’s quick reflexes—learned from millions of microcalculations and exercises in the Stone World—come in handy. He thrusts his arm up, preparing for the incoming fist, and then shoots out his right arm toward Tsukasa’s neck. His fist is raised into that of a karate chop, and Tsukasa registers the offensive move early on, but it is only when his fist makes light impact that he realizes Senku’s intention. The scientist had stepped slightly closer to him and was aiming for the back of his neck, not his throat.

He knows how to defend himself from such a move but chooses to let the hit land. There was no pain; in fact, Senku’s karate chop had not been perfected in the slightest, and so it crumpled against the bulky trapezius muscles protecting Tsukasa’s cervical spine. When the shot lands, however, a grin breaks across the scientist’s face, and the arm he used to defend crumples as Tsukasa’s fist does.

“Good job,” Tsukasa says immediately, dusting his fist.

Senku’s eyes sparkle, and he cackles. “That didn’t do anything, huh? Well, ya are a tank, which is why you were revived. I guess I just wanted revenge for—”

He cuts himself off. “Never mind.”

Tsukasa can do nothing but break eye contact with the stunning man. A familiar wave of shame wells within him as he remembers what he’d done to a defenseless Senku several years ago. He’d broken that neck, with the genuine belief that it was for a good cause. Even the thought of laying a malicious hand on this person now left him sick.

“Next lesson,” he coughs, hoping Senku won’t find any fault in his tone. “What would you do if someone came up and grabbed you from behind?”

“Uh,” Senku shrugs, “I guess I’d try to kick?”

“Partly correct.” The trainer skirts around to Senku’s back, wrapping two strong arms around his midsection. “Your attacker might not be able to lift you—or they could.”

He lifts Senku’s feet from the ground so that the scientist is hanging, and he starts kicking his legs defensively.

“Oi, let me down—”

“Sshh,” he whispers in Senku’s ear, and he can see the goosebumps that flare around his leader’s neck. “Think logically. What would you do?”

“Kick!” Senku protests and flails his legs.

“You must kick with reason. Where are we weak?”

“Your groin,” he grunts, “you bastard! Put me down!”

“You can’t reach my groin like this,” Tsukasa says very blatantly, but Senku wiggling on him is still doing things. He knows that the Ishigami can’t tell, and so he wills himself to calm down.

“You need to drop your weight. Become as heavy as you can, and they can’t carry you far or lift you further. Try to shimmy yourself lower in my arms—use the force of gravity in your favor.”

To his surprise, Senku stops flailing and obliges, concentrating on sliding downward in Tsukasa’s arms. He becomes heavier; not heavy enough for Tsukasa to drop Senku, but heavy enough to fatigue any regular man. As he shimmies, his yukata gets caught in the crook of Tsukasa’s biceps, and the dress-style outfit shortens to reveal his thighs. Tsukasa suffers silently as he tries and fails to look away.

Once Senku has successfully gotten closer to the ground, Tsukasa instructs him to gain footing and widen his stance. The process is relatively easy and allows Senku to maintain confidence against his attacker, as widening his stance provides a better base for gaining leverage. 

“Now that you’re on the ground, what would you do?”

Senku doesn’t even pause as he wacks Tsukasa in the back of the knee with his foot. The lion-slayer stumbles just a little bit in surprise, thinking that his student would answer him verbally before acting. The victorious gleam in Senku’s eyes combined with the uncomfortable weight in Tsukasa’s pants were both signs that he’d lost this round, and even if Senku didn’t… wait—did he notice?

Senku’s huffs of exhaustion fill the empty deck.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “I just really wanted payback for the picking-up thing.”

Tsukasa shakes his head—there’s no way Senku noticed. ”Don’t worry. You act before you speak in a real fight, too. That was good.”

“Never expected to be praised for hitting someone. Strange things happen every day.”

The instructor obliges his student with a small nod. There was not much to say, and thanks to the brief bout of awkwardness, he’d seemed to calm down. There was a valid explanation; it was his response to weeks and even months without a sexual encounter. That didn’t change the fact that it was because of Senku, which he’d already seemed to accept. He wasn’t sure if it could be anyone but Senku.

“Alright, the final lesson,” he orders, brushing a lock of hair from his face. “What if someone tries to choke you from the front?”

“… No demonstration this time?”

“Did you want one?”

“I think some adrenaline might help me think on my feet,” Senku exhales. “I’m joki—”

Tsukasa wraps his hands around Senku’s throat, inadvertently pulling the scientist closer. He doesn’t squeeze with any force, but he can feel every sensation that runs beneath Senku’s skin. The trachea trembles as Senku releases an exhale, and blood rushes through his subclavian artery, beating fiercely beneath Tsukasa’s fingers. So close to the other man’s face, Tsukasa can see a self-imagined fear, and it takes him a moment to realize that Senku isn’t afraid. He is calm and still beneath the hands gripping his neck. 

Tsukasa doesn’t know if he’s proven his loyalty adequately. After all, they still had a new land to explore. Even more obvious was the old promise that he needed to keep. Perhaps he would be compensating for his mistakes for a lifetime, and in his servitude, he might find the repentance he seeks. Despite paying his dues, Senku’s wholehearted trust in him flitted through his mind, a farce that should be done away with. This trust was brilliantly misplaced and factually unforeseen. But in grasping the same neck that he once broke, Tsukasa’s turmoil slowed and stopped. Senku is not afraid, even if he could die at these hands all over again. In that moment, The Strongest Primate High Schooler surrenders himself to Senku’s faith, and in doing so becomes less afraid of himself.

“I think I know how to get out of this one,” the scientist whispers, completely at his warrior’s mercy.

Tsukasa hopes he doesn’t look like a fool, because he does not know what kind of expression he’s revealed. 

Senku shoves his arms in between the arms of his attacker and spreads them apart, forcing Tsukasa’s arms laterally. He doesn’t even have the strength to resist this defensive tactic, releasing from his lithe victim without a second thought. Senku follows this move with a punch to Tsukasa’s gut, which doesn’t even affect him. He just stands there like a rock, blood roaring in his ears. He had held Senku so close to death. His fingers begin to tremble; dizziness and weakness overtake him. 

“Hey, ya good?” Senku’s words blur in his eardrums, and a ringing begins where his concern blossoms. “Oi—Tsukasa, answer me—”

The world dims, and he can’t catch himself as he falls.

Hah, he thinks. So much for being the strongest.

Tsukasa awakens to the dim light of a candle flickering across the ceiling. He rubs his eyes and moves to sit up, the heaviness in his lungs subsiding. He’s not in the bunks; if he were, the bed would be much less comfortable, and the frame of the bunk above him would be much closer to his head. He sits up slowly and registers the figure at his feet.

Senku is fast asleep. His body sits partially on a chair beside the bed, but his head rests on the mattress, propped up by his crossed arms. Drool pools from the side of his mouth, and his hair stands in disarray. The clock on Senku’s desk reads 03:04, and Tsukasa is grateful that he hasn’t awoken the scientist with his movements.

A survey of his surroundings helps Tsukasa realize that they’re in the mobile lab. Did Senku normally sleep here? Was he brought here, and if so, did Senku put him to bed? 

He tries to recall their training session, and as he returns to the event, a replay of his collapse hits like a high-speed train. Tsukasa doesn’t think he’s ever fainted before, much less in front of another person (and for no particular reason), but there must be a first time for everything. A complicated mix of emotions surfaces in his stomach, and on queue it grumbles, protesting the fact that he hasn’t eaten dinner. Moving as little as possible, he takes the bed quilt off, noticing that someone—likely Senku—had put his cloak on him after he’d fainted. 

The candle flickers as he stands, praying the bed doesn’t creak. Does leaving like a thief in the night invalidate their relationship? Tsukasa had no idea what they’d built, but it was probably Senku who’d been selfless enough to give up his bed. His leader even chose to watch over Tsukasa here instead of dumping him at the barracks. It was no wonder these feelings of his were so complicated. Senku skirted around Tsukasa’s feelings, only indulging himself now and then. They could speak to one another and make sacrifices and struggle with their feelings forever, and it may never be enough to fully comprehend everything that had happened. The past would remain an afterthought as they sailed to the unknown, and in the distant future, tales of them would not contain these infinitesimal, intimate moments.

He gently repositions the quilt and moves to pick up Senku. The scientist continues to snore and sleep as he’s lifted from his chair and into Tsukasa’s arms. His hand shifts and weakly grips the lion-slayer’s black cloak—a futile measure to find comfort in the nearest human.

“Sorr…y… f… ignorin’…”

“…than…ya… astar…”

Tsukasa places Senku on the bed and unclips the clasp at his neck. His cloak opens, and he catches the drape as it falls, placing it as a makeshift blanket over Senku’s body. The fur lining frames the scientist’s chin. He knows that when the smaller man wakes up, it’ll be to his smell and lingering warmth. He figured he knew the contents of Senku’s dream, in which case his avoidance made sense, and any distance between them could be forgiven. 

“Apology accepted,” Tsukasa whispers before abandoning his bedside. 

He strides toward the main lab table and sees sprawling blueprints, various unfinished projects and gadgets, and a high-quality photograph of a crescent moon. One set of papers in particular catches Tsukasa’s eye due to its complicated design. This was only his second time in Senku’s workspace and the first time seeing a project which caught his interest. 

He glances at Senku to ensure his figure is still asleep. Unbothered by the slight rustle of papers, his snores continue, separated by short pauses and weak grunts.

Tsukasa sifts lightly through Senku’s genius, splayed before him. He doesn’t understand any of the equations or diagrams other than the drawing of the petrification device, but two words on the final paper are words he does know. Even if he remembered little from his English lessons a millennia ago, those are two words he can pronounce with his tongue. He speaks them aloud under the candlelight once and then blows the flame out.

So this… is his plan.

Tsukasa should be alarmed, but he instead looks fondly back at the sleeping scientist. To save the world, they could accomplish anything.

Yesterday’s rain still lingers in puddles on the deck below them, soaking the wooden planks a darker shade. The thunderstorm ended around midnight last night according to his internal clock. Tsukasa had been grateful to get any sleep before he was awoken by Ryusui’s obnoxious snores above him and Hyoga’s incessant shifting below. It was a shame he’d always been a light sleeper, which was made even worse by the confines of the barracks. 

Heavyset and bearlike, he ambles to the lower deck, passing several sluggish crew members in the final hours of the night shift. They’re yawning and standing around, doing little, and they don’t need to. The Perseus is supposed to reach America tomorrow.

Tsukasa decides to take his chances on the upper deck in hopes it’ll be empty. Of course, it isn’t, but he’s faced with the next best thing. Senku Ishigami is sitting atop a barrel near one of the engine spouts, completely alone.

“All-nighter?” Tsukasa asks rhetorically, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Mm,” replies Senku, waving with his right hand and twirling a telescope in his left. Where did he get that thing? “Had a lot of thoughts in my mind after yesterday’s storm. I started to think, what if we encountered enemies as soon as we tried to dock? I was thinking about response plans, and—”

“Senku,” Tsukasa interrupts, “go rest. We can think about enemies once we see them. The last thing the Kingdom of Science needs is for their leader to collapse as soon as land comes into view.”

Perturbed by the sharpness in his soldier’s tone so early, Senku jabs, “Says you who collapsed last week. I’ve stayed awake for longer than this.”

“That’s admirable, but it’s not happening today.”

“I was on the verge of coming up with—”

“Unimportant. Brainstorm later.”

“I can’t just stop thinking.”

“Then think with your back against your bed.”

“I barely even sleep down th—”

“Senku.”

Tsukasa’s voice leaves no room for disagreement. The scientist sighs raggedly and hops down from the barrel he’s on with a clear reluctance. Words of apology make their way up Tsukasa’s throat, only to be tamped down by his determination to keep Senku healthy. He’ll get this scientist to bed, and then maybe he’ll try going back to sleep himself. Senku waddles his way over as though walking on sore feet. His face is lined with exhaustion, and he stops when he’s a few feet from Tsukasa. The taller man wishes he had Minami’s camera so that he could memorialize Senku’s small, disappointed pout and puffy eyebags with a photograph. He can’t help but think Senku is cute when he looks like this, and he’s surprised at how well the idea slots into place. Has Senku always been cute?

“Before we go back,” the scientist mutters, “I wanna try something.”

“Try…?” Tsukasa trails off, and then nods in compliance. 

“You gotta lean down. Bastard, you’re so tall.”

Tsukasa feels the smile twinging his cheeks. He awkwardly bends his body forward as ordered. If anyone were to catch them here right now, it would appear a warrior is bowing to his master.

Hesitantly, with a hand as slow as a satellite’s orbit, Senku places his hand atop Tsukasa’s head.

A beat of silence passes before he removes it, but it’s enough time for the moment to hit Tsukasa full force. He’s so moved that he thinks his knees might give out. He wants to faint again, or maybe drown in the sea. A flood of emotion overrides his system with an abrupt, sickening force, and any hopes he had of getting more sleep this morning vanish like cirrus clouds.

“That was ten billion percent less interesting than high-fiving,” Senku mutters. “Save the head pats for Mirai and Minami.”

Tsukasa laughs—genuinely laughs—for what feels like the first time, his head thrown towards the predawn sky, burdens evanescing into the ocean, the star of his heart pulling and flickering and shining.

On the last day of the voyage to New America, Tsukasa Shishio grazes the moon, and he accepts very easily that he loves Senku Ishigami. There was no other soul for him, and he would only ever serve Senku’s dream. It must come to pass. He would protect this ideal as fiercely as if it were his own. There would never be a day of rest until they saw this through.

His laughter subsides after just a few moments. Only then does he notice Senku’s mouth agape, staring at him with a mixture of astonishment and curiosity.

“I’ve never seen you laugh like that before.”

I don’t laugh like that, do I?

“I… I’ll be heading to the lab. To rest.”

“Alright,” Tsukasa acknowledges, the remnants of reprieve stretching his features.

There would be a time when these feelings could depetrify. Until then, they would remain still, as firm and unchanging as stone. Until then…

“Senku.” He grabs the slim wrist.

“Huh?”

Something shifts as Senku turns to face his protector. Was he waiting—was he dying—to hear what Tsukasa yearned to say? But they had died for this before. He would do everything in his power not to die again, and so Tsukasa swore in silence that the Ishigami would hear his words one day.

“See you later.”

“Ah,” Senku blinks. “Yea. See ya.”

Tsukasa Shishio is left in the moon’s glow, clenching the hand that brushed it.