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Gen looked irritated. And it was more than just his sullen expression giving Senku that impression, the mentalist was physically irritated. The skin along his jaw was a little red, and he was constantly running his hand along it, sometimes itching, sometimes just feeling. It was a subtle thing, he seemed to try to do it only when other people weren't watching, but Senku noticed nonetheless.
The skin of Gen’s face was irritated, for some reason, and it was making the mentalist a little more bitchy than normal.
Senku looked over, away from the telescope’s eyepiece, at Gen. The young man was sitting a few feet away, looking out at the night’s sky with disinterest, rubbing at his chin with his hand. Why the mentalist had come to the observatory Senku didn’t know, but Gen’s constant fidgeting and muttering was rather distracting.
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, after another few minutes of being distracted and not being able to stand it anymore.
Gen’s hand stopped, and he turned his head to face Senku. “Oh, are you worried about me, Senku-chan?” he asked, in that sickly-sweet voice of his, flashing the scientist a smile.
“You’re obviously annoyed by something. You’ve been irritated for a few days, and it’s getting worse.”
“Oh, you’re seeing things.”
“You snapped at Suika today.”
Gen blinked, as if just realizing that indeed, he had. “Well, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am.” he got a glare from Gen in reply. “So what’s bothering you? You’re being distracting and your demeanor is going to start upsetting other villagers. And I can’t have you starting unrest in our Kingdom of Science.”
“Oh, as utilitarian as always, Senku-chan.” he smiled.
Senku just crossed his arms over his chest.
“Alright, alright.” The mentalist dropped his sing-song-y performing voice and spoke like a normal person for once. Good. This normal voice was far less annoying, though he rarely used it. “As you’ve probably noted, there are a lot of downsides to this stone world.” he sighed, looking nostalgic for the past, “For example, not having accessed to a razor.”
It took a moment for Senku to put two and two together. Then he chuckled, much to Gen’s chagrin.
“Don’t laugh at me!” the mentalist hissed, cheeks flushing a pale shade of pink. Gen wasn’t often flustered, but it was a good look on him, Senku noted.
“You don’t need a razor. You don’t have any facial hair.”
“I do!” he insisted, “I have stubble and it’s driving me insane!”
Senku scooted closer and Gen let out a small yelp as he grabbed the mentalist’s face. Tilting Gen’s jaw up get a better look, Senku could in fact see tiny black hairs dotting that pale (and now slightly irritated and red) skin.
“Well, I can say with one billion percent certainty that you currently have the world’s saddest beard.” he snorted, getting a very pointed glare in return.
“Senku-chan, you’re so mean! It itches like hell! And I have sensitive skin!” Gen lamented. “Though you wouldn’t know, you lucky bastard.”
Indeed. Senku himself was rather lucky, managing to thus far not grown any facial hair. To be expected, really, he barely had any body hair and there was a rather strong correlation between one’s amount of body hair and facial hair.
Just one less thing he had to worry about in this stone world.
“Help me out here,” Gen continued, voice still whiny. “I'm suffering and the Great Scientist Senku is the only one who can help me.”
Briefly, Senku wondered if Gen had planned this whole thing, and this was the reason the mentalist had come to bother him in the observatory. Then, for a moment, Senku wondered what Taiji had been doing in the meantime to take care of his facial hair. Knowing the big idiot, he was likely assaulting his face with a clamshell every month or so.
But Gen would not, in a billion years, agree to that sort of method. So the most logical option was to say that “You can borrow a knife.”
Gen looked positively insulted despite how perfectly reasonable Senku’s offer had been. “A knife?” his voice rose in pitch with incredulousness. “I am not going to take some primitive stone knife to this beautiful face!” and he gestured at himself.
Questioning how and why he put up with Gen’s vanity and general irritating demeanor, Senku rolled his eyes. “If you think we don’t have access to higher quality knives than those made of stone, you’re one billion percent an idiot.”
“Oh. Right. Of course. You did make katanas...”
Getting up, Senku rooted through one of his bags and took out a small knife, safely stored in a leather sheath. It was a small knife, not useful for fighting or anything of that ilk. It was more for cutting cord or paper or other small tasks. But having made the knife himself (with the help of Kaseki), Senku knew that it was a very sharp, high quality knife.
He tossed the knife to Gen. “Here.” That should be good enough.
The mentalist gingerly unsheathed the knife, and after running his finger along the blade, glanced up at Senku with a look that clearly said that it wasn’t good enough.
“What?”
“I’ve never shaved with a knife.” he whined. “And I don’t have a mirror. I’m going to accidentally kill myself.”
Biting back a retort about how it should be one billion percent impossible to kill oneself with that sort of knife while shaving unless purposefully finding the carotid, Senku sighed. “That’s the best I can offer at this current stage. A five-blade electric razor is very low on the list of things we need invented.” In all honesty, it wasn't even on the list.
But Gen regarded his with sad, sad eyes, lips pulled into a practiced pout. Why did the mentalist have to be such a diva? No one else had these sorts of petty problems in the stone world. Or if they did, they didn’t make a big deal out of it. They made do. People had to make sacrifices.
But, another good question was why did Senku find himself bending to Gen’s demands and whims on a regular basis.
Stepping forwards, Senku reached down to take the knife out of Gen’s hands. “If you’re worried about cutting yourself, then let me do it.”
It took Gen a moment to understand what Senku had said. “You?” he asked, eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise.
“I have steady hands. And if it will get you to stop being irritable, then this is the most logical course of action.”
“But you’ve never shaved before.”
He knew what Gen was implying. “Do you think I’m an idiot? I know what to do even if I haven’t ever done so in practice. Theoretical knowledge is powerful, do you think I made a cell phone before making the one we now have?”
“You have a point.” Gen murmured, and a smile spread across his face. “Alright. But if you cut me, I will never forgive you, Senku-chan.”
“Noted.”
This sort of thing seemed like a waste of precious energy and resources, but shaving would be impossible with only the light of the moon and stars. Senku illuminated one of his lightbulbs, casting the observatory in a soft yellow glow, and he couldn’t help but notice how Gen’s hair seemed to shine in the close, concentrated light.
The mentalist was seated on the floor, cross-legged, and Senku knelt above him with the knife in hand. He had brought over a bucket of water and a small jar of a concoction crafted from coconut oil and crushed nuts that was very similar to lotion.
“Don’t move.” Senku muttered, as he spread a bit of the lotion along Gen’s jaw.
Of course, Gen proceeded to move, adjusting the little cloth he’d draped across his shoulders to protect his clothes. “I’ll do my best not to, Senku-chan.”
“And don’t talk. Or smile.”
Gen obeyed, and Senku brought the knife to the mentalist’s face. With one hand he held the mentalist’s jaw, the skin warm and soft under his touch, and with the other he slowly dragged the blade forwards, feeling it scrape against skin. He’d never done this before, and as confident as he was with the supplies at hand, he found himself holding his breath. He didn't often hold a knife. He didn’t often hold another person. He really didn’t want to cut Gen. He didn’t want to hurt him, even if it was just a tiny cut. He didn’t want to mar the mentalist’s more or less perfect skin.
But he was a man of science, and if he couldn’t even figure out the perfect angle to hold the knife and amount of pressure to apply to shave someone's face without cutting them, then could he really call himself a scientist?
There was no blood, not even a tiny nick, and he let out the breath he’d been holding. Rinsing the knife, he tilted Gen’s head a bit more and ran the knife along that pale skin once again.
He settled into a rhythm. Rinse the knife, apply more lotion, realign, slowly drag the knife along Gen’s cheek. Rinse and repeat. He learnt as he went, adjusting and adapting. Different spots had a different amount of give to the skin, so he had to adjust his pressure and speed. Some spots were harder to get to, so he had to shift his position and Gen’s head. Gen had a tiny birthmark under his right ear, so he catalogued that little fun fact just in case. Really. Just in case. It might be relevant at some point in time, right? And far be it from him to ignore new information.
Shifting once more, he tilted Gen’s head back to get under the mentalist’s jaw. A bit of an awkward angle, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He moved the knife in a slow, fluid motion, being careful because this skin gave quite a bit, and as he did so he could feel the mentalist’s pulse under his other hand.
He could just barely feel the pulse in the carotid artery, but he could tell well enough that it was fast, far faster than a normal resting heartrate. A contrast to the calm expression on the mentalist’s face, but now that you mentioned it, Gen’s body was rather tense. Maybe it was an effect of his concerted effort to stay still, or maybe it was just the implicit reaction to having a knife pressed against one’s throat.
Rinsing off the knife, Senku noted that his own pulse was far quicker than it should be and that he too was tense. And it might just be his perception, but the observatory was noticeably warmer. Gen would probably agree with him, though, the mentalist’s cheeks were flushed and hot to the touch.
As he tilted Gen’s face to the side, he had to the slide a lock of ivory hair out of the way. Gen had soft hair, he noted, something he wouldn’t have expected with a lack of hair products in this stone world. Maybe, if the need ever arose, he should invent some shampoo and conditioner.
After who knows how long (well, actually, Senku knew how long. 1782 seconds to be exact), he finished. Moving Gen’s face around to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot, he could definitively say that he was satisfied with his first ever shaving job. And Gen seemed satisfied so far too. The mentalist eyes were closed, seemingly relatively relaxed, and there was a tiny smile on his lips. Senku remembered explicitly telling him not to smile, but he let it slide.
“All done.” he said, drying the knife on his clothes and sliding it back into the sheath. He watched Gen open his eyes, relax into a more casual sitting position, and then run his hands over his own face. He watched a wide, genuine smile light the mentalist’s lips.
“You’ve missed your true calling, Senku-chan. Forget being a scientist, you should be a barber.”
Senku accepted the praise with a smile. “But if I were just a barber, then we wouldn’t have such a nice knife to use. I’d have to rip your hair out with a clamshell.”
Gen’s eyes went wide in horror, but then he laughed. “Well then I’m glad you’re a scientist.”
“So am I.” And he punctuated his sentence with a yawn.
It was late, and as the adrenaline wore off he realized just how tired he was. Pity, he had meant to map more of the stars before going to bed. Leave it to Gen to mess up his plans.
“Well, I guess it’s time for bed.” Gen yawned in reply. “Sorry for keeping you up.”
“Eh. No problem.”
Gen stood up, removing the towel from his shoulders and wiping his face. “But... thank you, Senku. I really appreciate it. I really do.”
It was rare for Gen to be sincere. But it was nice. “You’re welcome.” He could feel the tips of his ears turn a faint shade of red.
“I’ll let you know next time I need a touch-up.”
“Bold to assume I’ll do this again. I’m busy, you know.”
“Oh, you’re so mean, Senku-chan.” And with a smile, the mentalist swept out to the observatory with a flourish of his overcoat.
Sure. He could just make Gen a mirror. And a razor for that matter, it really wouldn’t be too hard to make a manual one.
But instead, he just took a sharpening stone out of his bag and sharpened the knife before going to bed.
Even if hair did not grow back faster or thicker after shaving, it would feel coarser for a bit because of the blunt end from where the knife cut the hair. And knowing Gen, he would complain about the itchy, coarse feeling quite soon.
Senku smiled to himself. Best to have a sharp knife just in case.