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When Yuzurija woke up, she was so caught up in being alive and with Taiju, she didn’t notice that Senku was different. After all, hadn’t he always been touch-avoidant, alexthymic, and just brushed past her objections to show them anything was possible?
But then he died. He died, in her arms, leaving her to be the smart one (God bless, but Taiju certainly wasn’t) and what came back was even more… hollow, world-weary, and thin. While Taiju was snoring, but they were both still awake, prodding the fire, she dared to ask: “Just how long were you alone before? Before we woke up?”
”Just a year.” He cracked an artificial grin, “Of course, a scientist is used to being alone in the lab with their thoughts, And you weren’t even the first things I tried to wake up.”
A year. Even a few days without human contact was considered torture in some countries, let alone months. Yuzuriha considered that before, Senku had never really enjoyed their field trips to the forest, preferring to stay in his lab, carefully measuring fluids and pinning the bugs they did catch. And now he was an entire year older than her, a year spent struggling in the wild, with no one else to rely on. No one else to talk to about what it was like to die.
”How did you cope?”
He laughed again. “Like I said, a scientist is never lonely. There’s millions and billions of stars overhead, even if we can only see six thousand. There are birds and trees and tiny tardigrades. Even your white blood cells are constantly struggling to keep you alive.” A microexpression of something… broken went across his face before being brought back under the mask. “But I always knew I was going to bring you back. I’m going to bring the whole world back, get excited.”
She threw her stick into the fire before tucking herself in. “Of course, Senku. I never doubted that for a second.”
Of course, another year would have her wondering if this was the same person. Of course, there was always some part of her that wondered if Senku did care about them more than he expressed. Something that told her he was just… seventeen and growing and bad with feelings and words and being uncomfortable. But to see him standing shoulder to shoulder with Kaseki, working day in and out in a hot furnace, or throwing Suika in the air, or even giving Chrome a high-five for a job well-done, just reminded her that this was someone else.
She knew, on some level, that the village itself wouldn’t have allowed a loner like Senku to survive for long. After all, a cog has to mesh with the engine or all its teeth will be torn out. But this Senku actually slowed down explanations for the children and took meals with the village. He’d become a person, rather than just a scientist.
She had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with someone else who had changed over that year. Who had stopped smiling all the time and become much more pensive. Who had stopped disappearing randomly for long periods in favor of actively working alongside the villagers (or at least talking to them). And who had woken up shortly after she had gone to discover if statues could be reassembled.
Of course, Gen wouldn’t admit to anything directly. That wasn’t the mentalist way. (Not that she hadn’t tried, much to his amusement.) Instead, she just observed that during her late night walks to ease some of the overwhelming fear and anxiety (what is this place, how can anyone go on like this, why am I alive and not Tsuya or…) there was often soft muttering heard from the observatory. How when the two were together, it was so natural for them to brush fingers, how they reached out for it like a wave reaches for shore (like Taiju had reached for her even as a stone). How when she invited Chrome to stay with them for a night, (and he always took it as a sign to stay with Ruri) Gen and Senku seemed to spend the next few days almost thrumming with energy, separated by barely more than than a quick shout.
But the most important thing Yuzuriha noticed was late at night, when she and Senku were alone poking the fire again. “What was it like, alone, for an entire year?” he asked softly.
”We weren’t alone, Senku. We always knew you’d come back for us.”
”Yes, but… there must have been some moments… some moments when you were afraid. When you were afraid you wouldn’t survive, or I wouldn’t survive. That we wouldn’t make it, and humanity would fail. That this would be the end.”
She put one finger over one of his fingers. “Of course not. But if I ever did, I’d remember what you said. We’re not alone in this. And if that still wasn’t enough, I’d go talk to Gen. He may be a fraud, but he’s still a psychologist at heart.”
”Anyway, enough feelings talk. Look at this cool piece of sodium I found.” He tossed it into the fire, making a lovely yellow glow in the crisp fall air. All she needed was that moment anyway. As she laid down next to the warm, soft, loving Taiju, she knew that was enough for her friend, right now.