Chapter Text
today was the day i realized i had been mischaracterizing senku's physical aspects… not like in any of my work…. i think (don't go back and look please) but i realized that because of all the cannon monsters surrounding him i subconsciously labeled him as like… really weak and kind of soft looking but that is not the case at all…
the first poster thing where he's like half stone you can see alllllll his muscle like omg?? then there was this other picture i found of him shirtless and he has like a soft lean but muscular build with soft abs and the last thing that put it all together was him tackling Homura it finally finally clicked
realistically he is just as strong as any other average male who rarely works out and i say rarely because i can imagine the heavy science equipment he has to move around too gosh i lowkey feel like an idiot
“You completely ignored the question.”
You stopped halfway through pouring cereal and looked over your shoulder. Senku was sitting at the kitchen table with one hand around his coffee, still looking down at his laptop.
“No, I answered it.”
He repeated the sentence in Japanese, slower this time.
You switched languages just to tell him, very clearly, that you understood him the first time.
Senku finally glanced up. “Then why’d you answer something else?”
“Because my answer was better.”
“That’s not how questions work.”
You carried your bowl to the table and dropped into the chair across from him. “Sounds restrictive.”
Your dad walked into the kitchen just in time to catch the end of it. He stopped beside the refrigerator, looked between you and Senku, then reached for the handle. “Were y’all doing it again?”
You took a bite of cereal. “Good morning, Dad.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Senku took another drink of coffee without helping you whatsoever.
“He asked me something,” you said around the spoon. “I answered.”
“In Japanese.”
“He asked in Japanese.”
Your dad opened the refrigerator and stood there looking inside. “See, this is how it starts. Pretty soon I’m gonna walk into my own kitchen and nobody speaks English anymore.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Senku spoke from behind his coffee. “A little.”
Your dad slowly turned his head.
You nearly inhaled your cereal.
Senku didn’t even bother pretending he hadn’t said it. He set the mug beside his laptop and went right back to reading while your dad stared at him from across the kitchen, one hand still resting on the refrigerator door.
“You getting real comfortable in my house.”
There wasn’t any real bite behind it. Your dad’s mouth had already started pulling at one corner, and Senku caught it before dropping his attention back to the screen.
“You asked.”
Your dad shut the refrigerator and leaned against it. “I did not ask you.”
“You asked if you were being dramatic.”
“I asked her.”
Senku lifted his coffee again, just enough of a smile showing over the rim. “Still a question.”
Your dad let out a short laugh through his nose and shook his head. “See, this what I’m talking about. Getting slick now.”
Your mom wandered into the kitchen tying the belt of her robe tighter around her waist. She took one look at you trying not to choke, your dad standing near the refrigerator looking personally betrayed, and Senku calmly drinking coffee like he had nothing to do with any of it.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” you managed.
“They got a secret language now.”
Your mom reached for the coffee pot. “It’s Japanese.”
“It’s secret to me.”
“You could learn.”
Your dad turned toward her. “I’m not learning Japanese because my daughter wants to talk shit in the kitchen.”
You dropped your spoon back into the bowl. “Nobody was talking shit.”
Senku glanced over the edge of his mug toward you, and you caught it before turning back to your cereal.
Your dad pointed between you both. “See. That.”
You frowned. “What?”
“Whatever just happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Exactly. I don’t trust that.”
Your mom laughed into her coffee while you went back to eating. Senku had the decency to keep his mouth shut this time, although the slight pull at the corner of it told you he was enjoying this entirely too much.
The conversation died naturally after that. Your dad started making toast, your mom leaned against the counter checking her phone, and you finished your cereal while Senku went back to whatever he’d been reading. By the time you stood to rinse your bowl, everybody had mostly moved on.
Mostly.
Senku switched back into Japanese just as you reached the sink and quietly told you your father was, in fact, dramatic.
You didn’t bother turning around. You answered in Japanese that he was going to get himself kicked out one day if he kept testing that theory.
From behind you, your dad said, “I heard my name.”
You froze with the bowl underneath the faucet while Senku immediately dropped his attention back to his laptop. Your mom started laughing before you could even think of a lie.
“Nobody said your name.”
“I know when people are talking about me.”
“You literally don’t.”
“Then translate.”
“No.”
Your dad pointed toward you like you’d just proven his entire case. “See?”
You slid the bowl into the dishwasher before he could keep going. “I have class. I don’t have time for this.”
“You got time to gossip internationally.”
“Oh my God.”
Senku laughed into his coffee, earning himself an immediate point from you on your way out of the kitchen.
“This is your fault.”
Senku took another drink like he had no idea what you were talking about. "Oh, don't do that. You started it."
“Debatable.”
“Not even a millimeter”
Your dad called after you that it was absolutely debatable, and you left before either of them could drag you back into it.
By the time you made it to campus, you’d already forgotten most of the argument.
Your morning was painfully normal. One lecture, a quiz you were pretty sure you did well on, then an hour in the library where you actually managed to finish most of an assignment instead of opening the same three tabs and pretending that counted as studying.
You were walking out of your last class when your phone buzzed.
Senku: lab. now.
You stopped in the middle of the hallway, forcing the girl behind you to sidestep before she walked straight into your back.
you: hello to you too???
you: what happened
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Senku: we got approval
You frowned.
you: approval for what
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then came back.
Senku: just get here
You stared at the screen. “The hell?”
Then it clicked. The propulsion. So apparently "I'll show you tomorrow," had been the actual plan.
Unfortunately for you, curiosity was stronger than annoyance, so you changed direction.
By the time you made it across campus to the engineering building, Senku was already standing outside one of the labs with safety glasses pushed onto the top of his head and a folder tucked underneath one arm.
You knew before he opened his mouth that something had happened.
He was geeked.
There was an energy to him that hadn’t been there that morning, the kind that showed up whenever he got onto a subject he actually gave a shit about. Even standing still, he looked like somebody had plugged him into a wall.
You slowed as you approached. “This is what you were gonna show me?”
Senku pulled the folder from underneath his arm and practically handed it into your chest. “Part of it. They approved the propulsion test.”
You took it and looked down at the first page.
Diagrams.
Numbers.
Several words you understood individually but not together.
You looked back up. “Okay?”
Senku stared at you long enough that you immediately knew that had been the wrong response.
“What?”
“We’ve been waiting three weeks for clearance.”
“I know that, but I don’t know what half of this means.” You lifted the folder. “You’re giving me engineering hieroglyphics.”
He took it back and flipped it open while already heading toward the lab doors. “Scaled chamber test. We finally get to run the new nozzle configuration under controlled load instead of relying entirely on modeling.”
You followed him inside, adjusting your bag higher on your shoulder. “And that’s good?”
Senku stopped so abruptly you nearly walked into his back.
He turned around slowly. “That’s good?”
You started laughing before he finished saying it. “Okay, damn. I’m asking.”
His entire expression changed as he pointed through the glass toward the equipment farther inside. “This is exhilarating. Get excited.”
“I am excited!”
“You just asked if it was good.”
“Because I’m a nutrition major, Senku. That thing looks like it could kill me.”
“It probably could if you climbed inside it.”
He kept walking.
You stopped.
“Why would you say that?”
“You brought up dying.”
“I said it looked dangerous. I did not ask for a risk assessment.”
Senku hooked one pinky into his ear as he glanced back over his shoulder. “Then don’t climb inside.”
“I wasn’t planning on it!”
“Problem solved.”
The airy little chuckle that followed made you stare at the back of his head before hurrying after him. “I hate talking to you.”
"Then this is an inefficient use of your time"
You stared at his back for another several second and followed him anyway.
Once you reached the viewing area, though, his attention snapped right back to the setup. Senku opened the folder again and started explaining before you even asked, pointing between one of the diagrams and the equipment behind the glass.
His sentences got faster the longer he talked.
That was always the first sign.
He explained the nozzle geometry, why the previous model had underperformed, what they expected to change under actual load, and where the pressure data would tell them whether the adjustment was worth keeping. You understood maybe seventy percent of the words and forty percent of what they meant together, but he was so clearly enjoying himself that you kept listening anyway.
Every now and then he slowed just enough to make sure you were following.
You weren’t.
Not completely.
But enough.
“So if this configuration works,” you said after a minute, leaning closer to the diagram, “does that mean it uses less fuel to get the same output?”
Senku paused, and his attention sharpened immediately. “Potentially. That’s part of what we’re checking.”
“And if you need less fuel, that frees up mass somewhere else.”
Senku’s attention sharpened. “There you go.”
You tried not to look too pleased with yourself. “For payload?”
“Payload, additional systems, whatever the mission needs.”
You thought about it for another second. “More food.”
Senku looked at you.
“What?”
“You made it about food.”
“I study space nutrition. What did you expect?” You tapped the diagram with one finger. “You save weight here, somebody like me is absolutely trying to steal some of it for food storage.”
“That is not how payload allocation works.”
“Not with that attitude.”
Senku shook his head, but the smile had already come back.
You handed him the folder. “Okay, I get why you’re excited now.”
“Finally.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
He slipped the folder underneath his arm and turned back toward the glass. “We’ve only been running simulations up to this point. If the physical test lines up with the model, then we know the design is actually worth refining instead of wasting another month on it.”
That part you understood immediately.
“So today decides whether all that work was useful.”
“Pretty much.”
You looked through the glass again, this time with a little more appreciation for whatever complicated metal nightmare you were looking at. “Okay. Yeah. That’s actually cool.”
Senku turned toward you. “Actually?”
You handed the folder back. “Take the compliment before I change my mind.”
A laugh escaped him before his attention went right back to the equipment with a content smile resting on his face.
For the next twenty minutes, you watched him move between the graduate student supervising the setup and the computer displaying the incoming data. He wasn’t doing everything himself, obviously, but he looked completely at home in the middle of it. At one point he shifted a heavy equipment case farther out of the walkway without interrupting whatever he was saying, then went straight back to the monitor. Focused, fast, talking with his hands whenever somebody asked him a question and leaning closer to the screen every time the numbers changed.
You’d known he loved science.
Everybody knew he loved science.
Seeing him get to actually do something with it was different.
The first run didn’t give them what they wanted.
You knew before anybody explained it because Senku leaned closer to the monitor and started scanning the numbers again almost immediately. There wasn’t some dramatic failure. Nothing exploded, nobody panicked, and no alarms went off.
The numbers were just wrong.
Or wrong enough.
He and the others talked through it for a few minutes before Senku finally came back toward you with the folder tucked against his side.
You tipped your head. “Good?”
“No.”
“Oof.” You pulled your mouth down into the most sympathetic expression you could manage. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”
Senku stopped beside you. “Shut up.”
“I’m here for you.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“A little.”
He shook his head and went straight back toward the equipment before you could make it worse.
You smiled.
Maybe that mock sympathy shit really was contagious.
The second run went better.
You could tell because Senku didn’t say anything for several seconds after the numbers came in.
Then he smiled.
Not the smug little one he got when he proved you wrong either. This one stretched nearly ear to ear, so open and bright it made him look almost boyish.
You hadn’t seen that one before.
He leaned toward the screen, checked something twice, then turned toward the graduate student beside him and immediately started talking too fast for you to catch everything from where you stood.
You didn’t need to.
Whatever they’d wanted to happen had happened.
When Senku finally walked back over, you were already smiling. “So?”
He handed you the printout.
You looked at it.
Then him.
“You know I can’t read this.”
“The pressure stayed within the predicted range.”
“That’s good?”
Senku gave you the exact look he’d given you earlier.
You cracked almost immediately. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding.”
“This is exhilarating.”
“I KNOW.”
“Get excited.”
“I AM EXCITED.”
A couple people nearby looked over.
You immediately lowered your voice. “Now you got me yelling in a lab.”
“You were already loud.”
“Fuck you.”
Senku laughed and took the printout back.
By the time you both left the engineering building, he was still talking about the test. Not constantly, but enough that you could tell his brain hadn’t moved on yet. He pointed out one discrepancy between the simulation and the actual measurements while you walked, then stopped halfway through another explanation when your expression apparently told him the engineering had officially left your area of comprehension.
You held up one hand. “I’m gonna need you to dumb that one down.”
“I did.”
You stopped walking.
Senku made it another two steps before noticing.
“That was the dumbed-down version?”
“Yes.”
You stared at him.
Senku considered you for a second. “I can go lower.”
Your mouth dropped open. “Fuck you.”
He laughed.
You caught up with him and bumped your shoulder lightly against his arm as you passed. “Congratulations, though.”
Senku adjusted the strap of his bag. “On what?”
“The test.”
“It was one run.”
“And?”
“There’s still a lot to fix.”
“That doesn’t mean today didn’t go well.” You shrugged when he glanced toward you. “You were excited. It worked. Congratulations.”
There was a brief pause before he nodded once. “Thanks.”
No joke.
No smart comment.
Just that.
You smiled and kept walking.
By the time you got home later that afternoon, whatever energy had carried you through the engineering building was gone. You dropped your bag in your room, showered, changed into something comfortable and wandered across the hall without putting much thought into where you were going.
Senku was already back at his desk, apparently incapable of taking one successful test as an excuse to stop working.
You leaned against the doorway. “Still doing science?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Poor baby.”
Senku glanced over.
You gave him your most sympathetic smile.
"Save it.”
You walked in anyway and dropped onto his bed, pulling your phone out as you rolled onto your stomach. “Somebody’s grumpy.”
He shook his head and turned back to his laptop.
You rolled onto your stomach, pulled your phone out and let Senku go back to his work. TikTok lasted for a while, then Instagram when that got boring. Across the room, he kept typing or flipping through pages in the folder he’d brought home from the lab.
At some point, your eyes started getting heavy.
Not tired.
Just... heavy.
There was a difference.
Probably.
You shifted onto your side and pulled one of his pillows underneath your head without putting the phone down.
Senku glanced over. “You have homework.”
“I know.”
“Are you doing it?”
“In a minute.”
“You said that twenty minutes ago,” he pushed, looking over from his laptop.
“Time is subjective.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Sounds restrictive.” You smiled at your phone and kept scrolling, which apparently told Senku there was no point arguing because he went back to his work without another word.
Good.
You shifted farther onto your side and pulled the pillow more comfortably underneath your head. A few minutes later, your scrolling had slowed to the point where you were barely reading anything anyway, so you closed your eyes just to rest them for a second.
Only for a second.
When you opened them again, the room was darker.
The sunlight had disappeared from the window, leaving only the warm glow of Senku’s desk lamp and the light from his laptop.
You stared at the ceiling long enough for one important problem to register.
That wasn’t your ceiling.
Oh.
Fuck.
You pushed yourself upright too fast and had to pause while your brain caught up with the rest of your body. Senku was still at the desk, one hand resting against his chin while he read.
“How long was I asleep?”
He glanced toward the clock. “Hour and twelve minutes.”
Your mouth fell open. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”
“You were tired.”
“I have homework.”
Senku looked back at his laptop. "It's still there."
You stared at him until he finally looked over, expression completely straight. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
You stared at him. “That is not helpful.”
“You seem rested.”
“That is not the point.” You reached for your phone, but the charging cable tugged against it before you could pick it up properly. Your hand stopped as you followed the cord toward the wall, then turned toward Senku. “Did you plug my phone in?”
“It was at nine percent.”
Your irritation disappeared almost immediately. “Aww.”
Senku’s expression flattened. “It was at nine percent.”
You smiled anyway and pulled the phone into your lap. “Senku cares about me.”
“Your phone dying and missing your alarm would’ve become everybody's problem.”
“Mhm.”
“That’s literally why.”
“Mhm.”
He turned back to the laptop before you could bother him any further, which only made your smile linger.
You unplugged your phone and checked the time, then noticed your notebook sitting on the nightstand instead of underneath your arm where you vaguely remembered leaving it. Your bag had been moved farther from the edge of the bed too.
You let your attention rest on Senku’s back for a second.
He kept typing.
You didn’t mention it.
Instead, you stretched until your shoulders cracked and reached for the notebook. “Okay. I’m doing homework.”
“Take your time.”
You narrowed your eyes at the back of his head but let that one go.
Settling against the headboard, you opened the notebook across your legs and started on the problem you’d abandoned earlier. Your brain was cooperating significantly better after the nap, which was annoying considering that meant Senku had technically been right about you needing sleep.
You weren’t giving him that satisfaction.
You finished another line, checked your answer and reached for your phone when a message came through. One of the people you’d met through a language exchange had sent you something in Japanese, and you typed half a response before stopping.
You knew exactly what you wanted to say.
You also knew the way you were about to say it sounded weird as hell.
You deleted the sentence.
Typed it again.
Still weird.
“Senku.”
“Mm?”
You kept staring at the phone. “How would you say something like, ‘I’ll probably get around to it eventually, but I’m not worried about it right now’?”
His typing stopped. “In Japanese?”
“No, Spanish.”
Senku turned his chair slightly.
You smiled at your screen. “Yes, in Japanese.”
“What are you trying to say it for?”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because context matters.”
You sighed and held the phone toward him. “My friend asked if I finished this manga she recommended. I haven’t, and she keeps asking me about it.”
Senku read the message, then the half-finished response underneath. “What you wrote works.”
“But?”
“It sounds formal.”
Your hand lowered slightly. “Formal?”
“A little.”
You stared at the message again. “How?”
Senku rolled his chair closer and held one hand out for the phone. You passed it over, watching as he deleted part of what you’d written and replaced it with something shorter.
“That.”
You read the sentence once.
Then again.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“That feels too casual.”
“It is casual. You’re talking to your friend.”
You took the phone back and compared his version to yours. “Mine wasn’t that bad.”
“It wasn't. Just formal.”
You turned toward him. “Do I always sound formal?”
“No. Sometimes you use textbook phrasing when there's a shorter way to say something.”
You stared at him in horror. “Textbook? Do I sound like somebody’s grandma?”
Senku laughed. “No.”
“A teacher?”
He paused for a bit.
Your mouth fell open. “What the fuck?”
“Sometimes.”
“I've been speaking Japanese around you for over a month and you were just gonna let me walk around sounding like somebody's professor?”
“I understand you.”
“That's not the point.”
Senku shook his head, still clearly entertained while you stared down at your phone like several years of studying had personally betrayed you.
After a second, he asked, “How did you learn?”
You glanced up. “Japanese?”
“No, calculus.”
“Fuck you.”
Senku smiled.
You sent the message and set your phone beside you. “I started teaching myself when I was like twelve or thirteen. Apps, books, websites, YouTube, whatever I could find. Then my parents realized I was actually serious about it and put me in classes.”
“Twelve?”
“Maybe thirteen. Somewhere around there.” You shrugged and reached for your pencil again, already trying to steer the conversation back toward your homework.
Senku didn’t let it go. “That’s early. Why Japanese?”
There it was.
Your pencil hovered over the page for a second before you started writing again. “No reason.”
“That’s obviously a lie.”
“There was a reason. It’s just not important.”
Senku stayed quiet long enough that you finally glanced up and found him still waiting.
“Why do you care?”
“Curious.”
“Be less curious.”
His mouth pulled slightly at one corner. “Now I’m more curious.”
You went back to your notebook and kept writing. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
Senku studied you for another second before apparently deciding the answer wasn’t worth dragging out of you. “Fine.”
That should’ve been the end of it.
Instead, the fact that he actually let it go made you smile slightly as you returned to the equation.
He’d find out eventually.
Preferably from you.
Unfortunately, your parents had other plans.
Dinner started normally enough.
Your mom had made chicken, rice and vegetables, your dad was talking about something that had happened at work, and Senku had apparently decided not to continue his interrogation from upstairs.
You appreciated that.
For approximately twelve minutes.
Then he asked your mom what she’d used on the chicken.
She started listing seasonings, but one of them clearly didn’t translate for him because he hesitated before turning toward you and asking in Japanese. You answered automatically, explaining what it was and what you thought the closest equivalent would be. Senku asked another question, you answered that too, and by the time you went back to eating, your dad had lowered his fork.
Your mom smiled. " I’m just happy all those years of Japanese finally came in handy.”
Senku’s attention shifted toward her.
You caught it immediately.
No.
Absolutely not.
“Mom, whatever you're remembering right now, forget it.”
She blinked at you. “I didn't say anything?”
Your dad’s mouth had already started pulling upward.
You pointed toward him next. “And wipe that smile off your face.” You gave him your "I'll tell mom what you did" face. (Nothing like cheating trust guys."
“I'm eating.”
“Keep it that way.”
Senku set his fork down. “She wouldn’t tell me why she started learning.”
You turned toward him so fast you nearly pulled something. “Oh, you are messy.”
“I asked.”
“And I didn’t answer for a reason.”
Your mom’s eyebrows lifted. “You never told him?”
“There was nothing to tell.”
Your dad laughed quietly into his drink.
You pointed at him without even looking. “Daddy.”
“What?”
“You know what.”
Senku’s attention moved between the three of you, and you could practically feel his curiosity getting worse.
Your mother was the one who finally ruined your life.
“She got tired of waiting for her anime and manga to get translated.”
You closed your eyes.
There it was.
Your dad lasted maybe two seconds before he started laughing, and Senku went suspiciously quiet across the table.
You slowly opened your eyes.
He was staring at you.
You pointed your fork at him. "Not one word.”
His mouth had already started twitching. “That’s why?”
“That was several.” You warned. He obviously didn't take you serious, because he followed up with this, “You learned Japanese because translations were taking too long.”
“That is a disrespectful oversimplification of events.”
“Is it inaccurate?”
You opened your mouth.
Nothing came out.
Your dad nodded toward Senku. “That’s pretty much it.”
“Nobody asked you!”
Your mom was laughing now too. “She was so impatient.”
“I WAS THIRTEEN.”
“And determined,” your mom added.
“Thank you. See? Determined.”
Your dad leaned back in his chair. “Tell him about the PowerPoint.”
Every muscle in your body locked.
You turned toward him slowly. “No.”
Senku’s eyebrows lifted. “What PowerPoint?”
“There was no PowerPoint.”
“There absolutely was,” your mom said.
“Mom!”
“She had a whole presentation about moving to Japan.”
Senku stared at you.
You covered your face. “I hate everybody at this table.”
Your dad started counting on his fingers. “She researched schools.”
“Daddy.”
“Apartments.”
“I was planning!”
“Transportation.”
“HOW ELSE WAS I SUPPOSED TO GET AROUND?”
Senku broke.
You heard the laugh before you dropped your hands, and when you did, he had his head lowered slightly toward his plate, shoulders shaking while he tried and completely failed to get himself together.
“You are the last person allowed to laugh at me.”
Senku looked up. “Why?”
“You were building rockets and doing chemistry experiments when normal children were eating glue.”
“I wasn’t eating glue.”
“That is exactly my point!”
Your mom nearly choked on her drink.
Senku was still laughing. “You made a PowerPoint.”
“You built a fucking rocket!”
“Not the same thing.”
“It’s worse!”
Your dad pointed toward you. “She got a point.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
“Still made the PowerPoint, though.”
You dropped your forehead into one hand. “I’m being bullied in my own home.”
Senku’s voice came from across the table, filled with entirely fake concern. “That’s terrible.”
Your eyes lifted.
He nodded sympathetically. “Really sorry you’re going through this.”
“You were laughing ten seconds ago.”
“People process grief differently.”
Your dad lost it again.
You stared at Senku. “I hope your next experiment fails.”
“Damn.”
“I mean it.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Good.”
For another few minutes, dinner became less of a meal and more of your parents slowly exposing every embarrassing detail they remembered. Your mom still remembered you practicing hiragana on everything you could get your hands on, and your dad apparently had not forgotten the time you changed half the settings on your electronics to Japanese before you knew enough Japanese to figure out how to change them back.
“That happened once,” you argued, pointing your fork toward him.
“You cried.”
“I DID NOT CRY.”
“You got real close.”
“I was frustrated!”
That only made your parents laugh harder.
You took another bite before pointing your fork toward him. “And for the record, anime and manga are why I started. They are not how I learned Japanese. I actually studied. Classes, tutors, language exchanges, grammar books, all of it. I did not sit there watching anime for six months and decide I was fluent.”
Senku nodded. “Obviously.”
You paused.
The lack of teasing caught you off guard.
He shrugged and took another bite. “You wouldn’t speak as well as you do if you hadn’t actually studied.”
Some of the tension left your shoulders.
“Well.” You tried not to look too pleased. “Yeah.”
Senku chewed for another second. Then added, “Still started because you're impatient as hell.”
Your fork hit the plate. “OH MY GOD. I will kick you as—”
Your dad smacked you upside the head before you could even get the rest out. "Watch your mouth."
You whipped around. "Dad!"
Senku turned his face away like that would save him, but the shake of his shoulders gave him away.