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The afternoon had been going by far too slowly for Senku’s liking, which was weird considering the amount of work he’d gotten done. Minerals were sorted, blueprints were made and proofread, he’d even worked with Francois and planned out food rations for the next week. It was a rare moment where Senku really felt secure in his progress. It wasn’t very often that he truly got to exhale, to roll the knots out of his shoulders and lay back.
Metaphorically, of course. He was seated at the table in the lab next to Gen, chatting idly about this and that. They liked to meet every so often just to touch base on different observations of the present and plans for the future. Effective communication was key to strategy, after all. However, their strategy meeting had quickly dissolved into exchanging stories of developments in Magma’s and Yo’s feud and refusing to acknowledge that they were both giggling like schoolboys at the moment.
“I swear- I swear I’ve never seen anything like it, Senku-chan, I didn’t even know Magma could climb trees!” Gen sputtered in between spurts of laughter.
Senku smirked back, teeth digging into his bottom lip in an effort to bite back the cackles that threatened to spill over. “And they were just-“
“They were just tangled up there! Yo on Magma’s lap! All because they thought the sound of little Suika rolling around was a lion!” The floodgates were opened, and suddenly they were both openly gasping for air between laughs, Gen collapsing forward onto the table and loudly smacking it with an open palm. “I can’t handle these dumbasses, Senku-”
“They get weirder every day, mentalist,” Senku hummed, swiping a tear from the corner of his eye while their giggles subsided. “Free entertainment, though.”
They straightened up immediately, though, at the sound of something rapping on the wooden exterior of the lab sharply. Gen’s hands were tucked neatly back into his sleeves, Senku’s stick of charcoal was picked up and carefully arranged back into his hand, and they exchanged grins before Senku cleared his throat and called for the person to come in.
Whoever they were expecting to pull back the curtain, it certainly wasn’t Hyoga. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, all three of them eyeing each other down. “...hi,” he said finally, his voice muffled from his mask.
“Hi, Hyoga-chan! What brings you here? Come to learn some card tricks?” Gen chirped in an attempt to lighten the mood. Hyoga seemed to be uniquely impervious to this, as he simply glared at Gen and propped his spear against the wall. Honestly, Senku didn’t even think Hyoga had stepped foot in the lab before. What business could he possibly have here?
He didn’t even bother to sit at the table, instead opting to plop down (rather gracefully for someone of his stature, Senku noted briefly) and lean against the wall across from them. Gen and Senku’s eyes snapped up to meet each other instinctively, in recognition, in warning .
“Relax, I’m just here to ask for a… favor,” Hyoga muttered, perceptive as ever. He spat out the last word like it was an insult (to himself or to Senku, Senku wasn’t sure). Strangely enough, Senku swore Hyoga’s voice sounded a little… hoarse? Breathy, maybe? The mask could be causing that, he reminded himself, but still… Senku set his charcoal down and leaned forward, a silent signal for Hyoga to continue. Hyoga sighed. “What is the extent of your medical knowledge, Senku-kun?”
Senku studied him carefully, that foreboding sense of dread in his gut growing by the minute. “Limited compared to real doctors, but greater than anyone else’s here, I can tell you that.” He wasn’t gloating, simply stating a fact. “By the way, I can tell Gen to scram if you don’t want him hearing about your health or whatever.” Gen nodded and promptly propped his hands on the table to hoist himself up, but before he was even halfway up, Hyoga held a hand out and stopped him.
“It’s fine. Knowing him, he’ll spend the next week trying to figure it out anyway. Better to save everyone the effort, hm?” Hyoga’s eyes slid over to Gen’s, his expression (or what Senku could see of it) positively dripping with annoyance.
Gen met it head-on with a carefully practiced smile. “Oops! You caught me.”
“Anyway,” Senku interrupted. “What’s the issue? We don’t have anything crazy advanced right now, but with a little time I can make most things that you might need.”
Even with the mask, Senku could tell Hyoga was smirking, which almost never meant good things were ahead. “Ah, sorry to burst your bubble, Senku-kun, but you’re not going to get to save me from this one.” His tone was that of someone who’d accepted a certain ineffable outcome long, long ago.
It was exactly the kind of acceptance that Senku despised… but Hyoga wasn’t one to exaggerate. “Go on.”
Hyoga watched them with a kind of venom in his gaze, his eyes flicking between them like a cornered animal, and Senku realized he’d been holding his breath. After what felt like minutes, he finally spoke. “I have cystic fibrosis. I thought it went away when I was revived but… evidently, it has not.”
They all sat there for a moment in stunned silence while Hyoga stared, daring them to take pity on him so he could forget all about this, so he could walk away and resign himself to his fate. Pity was never something Senku was fond of, though, so after gathering his thoughts, he quickly yanked a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. It was permanently gray from all the times he had rubbed away words only to rework and reorder and rewrite them. At the top under Priorities, he managed to fit in a scribbled 1. Hyoga . He smeared away the 1 next to Perseus, replaced it with a 2, and drew an arrow all the way down. Hyoga peered at the paper with a slightly alarmed expression. “Wha-”
“I’m going to need a lot of information, so I hope you know your medical records well enough,” Senku drawled before Hyoga could get a word out and pulled out another sheet of paper. “Treatments you’ve had, what’s worked and what hasn’t, including medications you were on and any surgeries, inpatient hospital stays, major complications you’ve had-”
“How far it’s progressed since your revival, too,” Gen piped up, eyes scanning the document quickly.
“Yes, thank you.” Senku added that to the list, already scrawling some notes down in the margins. Cystic fibrosis wasn’t even something they were able to conquer in the modern world, so they’d have to gather all the information they could if they even had a hope of eliminating it in the Stone World. His hand flew across the page, mapping out treatment options and roadmaps to several reinventions he already had in mind. “I’ve been monitoring our population for potential illnesses for a while now. The chances that any of the villagers have it are slim to none, so you don’t have to worry about staying away from them.”
“Modern timers, though,” Gen pointed out.
“Exactly. Any chance you can make an announcement tomorrow? Something about how even if they think an illness has disappeared, it actually-”
“On it,” Gen hummed in a singsong voice.
“In the meantime, though, try and keep your distance from people, and I’ll have Yuzuriha make you a m-” Senku turned toward Hyoga, realization in his eyes. “Well, look at you. Already thinking that stuff through, huh? I should’ve known you were more than just a loner with a weird aesthetic,” Senku huffed, chest puffed and proud like he’d just solved the mystery of the century, before an idea lit up his expression and he was back to scribbling on the paper in front of him again.
Amid the commotion, Hyoga still sat motionless save for his eyes frantically trying to follow Senku and Gen’s itinerary. This- this was-
“This is too much,” he blurted out before he could stop himself, and both men turned to him in unnerving unison, their hands halting where they were.
“What do you mean, Hyoga-chan?” Came Gen’s voice, a rare note of sincerity lacing through it.
“You’re- I mean-” he gestured toward the table, now covered with notes and blueprints and lists, all for him. When he finally worked up the courage to come ask for help today, he’d expected a halfhearted attempt at end-of-life comfort at best and to be laughed away or mocked at worst. But they- they both just dropped everything, rearranged all their plans, when he was the cause of so much strife for both of them in the past. How could he possibly deserve this? How would he ever make up for this? His mind raced, relief and embarrassment and confusion shocking his system, and all he could manage was a less-than-confident sounding “What about the Perseus?”
“Huh? What about it?” Senku grunted.
“You- we’re building it right now.”
“Okay,” Senku drawled. “And we can keep building it. I’m assuming whatever’s waiting for us out there won’t just disappear, even if it takes a while longer for us to arrive.” Gen snickered, now shoulder-to-shoulder with his boyfriend. It was then, though, that the true meaning behind Hyoga’s words hit Senku. “Now, Hyoga,” With a curious grin, he set his charcoal back down again and slowly raised his gaze to meet Hyoga’s. “What makes you think you’re exempt from my plan of saving all seven billion people?”
There was nothing Hyoga could really do besides gawk, dumbfounded, at Senku’s infuriating and comforting smugness. Gen’s proud gaze flickered between them, making Hyoga squirm internally. Being known to others was a disgusting feeling and if he had it his way, he would never have to experience it again. “But I-”
“Yeah, yeah, you’ve been a cruel, heartless jerk who stabbed my friend, we know the story-”
“Plus you resisted my charms and called me a ‘filthy, treacherous little snake’!! I was inconsolable for days after that, Hyoga-chan,” Gen whined and flopped dramatically against the scientist, even wiping a phantom tear from his eye, which earned a fond eye-roll from Senku and a less-than-fond eye-roll from Hyoga.
Senku huffed. “The point is, you’re a member of the Kingdom of Science, and before that, you’re a person. I’m not just going to leave you to die.”
The sentiment had Hyoga’s stomach churning. Senku refused to leave him to die, even though Hyoga gladly would’ve done so to him in the past. This whole ordeal had forced him to look inward at himself in a way he’s been desperately avoiding since- well, since forever, he supposed. A part of him longed for Senku to hate him, to abandon him like he knew he deserved. But…
“Thanks,” was all he could say, quiet and muffled behind his mask. He shriveled slightly, sinking down into his fur collar. His eyes drifted toward the floor. You’re a person, Senku’s voice replayed in his mind. A person.
“Don’t mention it,” Senku murmured, and Hyoga’s eyes shot back up only to be met with both Senku and Gen wearing softer expressions than he’d ever seen on them. This much care being turned toward him had him wanting to hurl, wanting to walk into the forest and not come back, but he just sat there, transfixed, and nodded, until Senku broke the silence once more. “This is pretty serious, though, and I don’t know how fast it’ll progress, so I’m gonna need this information as soon as possible,” he tapped the paper with his charcoal again before handing it over to the spearman.
“Alright. You’re not going to… tell anyone, right?” Hyoga asked, pretending to be busy with looking over the paper.
“Hah? No way, dude,” Senku snorted, looking a little insulted. “Just because I’m not a licensed physician doesn’t mean confidentiality isn’t a thing.”
“Your secret’s safe with us, Hyoga-chan!” Gen chirped.
“That’s right. From now on we’re team… team… uhhh,” Senku trailed off, scratching his chin and smearing charcoal everywhere.
“Team… Cystic fibr-no-sis?” Gen offered, his head tilting slightly.
“That’s stupid,” Senku deadpanned.
“You’re stupid,” Gen shot back, and Hyoga took that as his cue to leave. Bathed in the early evening sunset, he meandered back to his hut, stopping to talk to no one on the way; he hadn’t exactly mastered friendship, after all. Nonetheless, he could feel the smallest beginnings of a smile blooming behind his mask, and hoped that maybe this time would be different.