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Shishio Tsukasa had cold hands.
He noticed it the very day they met- a simple observation when their fingers slightly brushed as he handed him a tool to handle the lion. They were still cold when they shook hands, but it was hard to tell if it was from Tsukasa himself or the cold stone he’d been touching. He wondered, briefly, if he was simply a man with naturally cold hands, or if it was a side-effect from the de-petrification. There were still many unknowns, after all, and he’d had little to no chance to observe the phenomena on humans. He briefly considered the thought, then discarded it. There were other pressing matters and he’d have plenty of time to uncover every little facet of the petrification phenomena later, after all.
They hardly touched- two strangers in this stone world. Teenage boys unlike Taiju, who would happily manhandle anyone he deemed friendly, so he’d almost forgotten his little stray thought. As the days passed and they built up a rapport he would remember it again- in the times Tsukasa emerged from the sea with his catch and Senku would lose himself in the pace. A brush of hands when they coordinated to prepare their food, a teasing slap on Tsukasa’s bare arm, a friendly gesture for a job well done.
Wet from the sea, chilled by the breeze, his hands remained cold.
They didn’t touch when Tsukasa killed him.
Gravity was an incredibly useful and incredibly annoying force. Life on Earth as it was could not function without gravity and humanity, always seeking answers, found quite a few ways to use its steadfast force to its advantage, but it was also a great hurdle to overcome, a shackle that confined them to the ground when they dreamed of the stars. Overcoming gravity was no small feat. Humanity made it to space despite the odds, but the burden of gravity was not easy to beat. Senku had cursed gravity, as a child, when his projects were cruelly brought down by its force, or when Taiju’s strength wasn’t available and he had to carry his treasured projects on his own. The heavier his load, the harder the pull.
And Tsukasa was definitely heavy.
Lifting him up, with his meager strength and no help from Tsukasa’s own dangling body, was almost certainly impossible. Still, he held on as tight as he could. If Tsukasa wasn’t built like an impenetrable steel wall (but he wasn’t, oh, he wasn’t) he might have even broken a finger with how hard he clutched his hand. It was the firmest contact they’d ever had, and yet he could feel him slipping, dragged on by gravity, who didn’t care about Senku’s stupid feelings.
His hand was so, so cold.
(He was thankful, now, for Tsukasa’s naturally cold hands, he could excuse the cold, tell himself that it was no worse than usual, it was too early for the blood loss to affect him so-)
The water was much, much colder.
Tsukasa’s hands were lying limply by his side on the stone floor of the cave. Despite his composure there was no hiding the slight tremble that would occasionally overtake them. Part of Senku wanted to reach out and stop the shivers with his own hand, applying pressure, just like an open wound. It was not logical, and so, he refrained. The thought of finding his hand even colder than ever before, indistinguishable from the stone around them, or even colder still made no sway in his decision.
But it did give him an idea.
He was not stupid enough to carelessly touch frost for no reason, but his hand did hover, chastisized by the cool air around Tsukasa’s body.
The cool salty breeze was welcome against his face, warmed by the hustle and bustle that had overtaken bar François. The crew mingled, happy to chat and drink, staying close despite the ample space on deck, creating a focus of warmth with their bodies, breath and friendly banter. A warm core made with pure humanity.
Tsukasa, too, was human.
How had François put it? The “silent smoldering flames” of his heart. Senku couldn’t help but chuckle into his own drink. A bit too poetic for his taste, but not inaccurate. Tsukasa’s heart, surely, was warm- a fire of devotion born from embers he’d diligently nursed for years and fed with every step they took on their journey. Tsukasa, like Senku, was standing by himself just a little ways off the party, but nobody on the ship, or nobody with half a brain anyways, would take his distance as cold. The warmth reached him, carried by the loud laughter, and he contributed his own warmth in turn, with caring eyes set on his companions and an easy smile. Senku looked at him for a moment too long to excuse had anyone caught him, then joined in simply observing the crew and sipping at his drink.
Senku’s glass had been cold to the touch when he took it, but it had since warmed, comfortable in his hold.
He’d never touched Tsukasa long enough to know how long it would take for his hands to warm up, how it would feel. There was simply not enough data- he didn’t even know if Tsukasa was cold all over, like his hands, which made him shiver with one brush, or if there were parts of his body that were warm to the touch, like his heart was to the mind. He was not currently wearing it, but his pelt looked warm. Did it warm his arms? His chest? Was his back, hidden under his clothes and hair, protected from the world, warm and welcoming?
If he laid his hands upon the warmer parts of Tsukasa, would they shiver just the same?
They didn’t touch often, but it was no longer a strange occurrence, packed close as they were on their traverse through the forest. The passing of food and equipment, a helping hand to pull Senku over a particularly thick root, or to catch him when he tripped anyways, his legs shaking after hours of walking. All chances, all touches, coming as naturally as they always had, once gone leaving a phantom cold he’d feel for hours, all methodically noted. Senku didn’t know when he’d started counting.
Tsukasa’s hands remained cold, but in the hot and humid air that clung to them it was a blessing. Occasionally his cool touch still made him jolt, but he had enough evidence, observed and collected throughout the long journey, to blame it on something entirely different from the cold.
Tsukasa’s touch left a cold trail over his skin, but below it, he burned. A contrast worth researching, once he had the time.
His observations since he’d met Tsukasa, the things he’d learned about them both after every interaction, his place right beside him, secure, and the hypothesis he’d slowly formed, still unproved, but certain in his heart. All the cards were in his hand now. Once they had the time, after they dealt with Stanley, perhaps on the way to their next goal, he could start working on this particular project and see where it would take him. Over two years in the making, a slow but steady process, almost ready to bear fruit.
Just a little longer.