Chapter Text
Gen heaves out heavy breaths, kneeling forward, hands clasped on his knees for balance. It's hot, it’s humid, and the clothes on his back are sticking to his skin like glue. It also didn’t help any further that the distance between Gen’s Uber and the entrance of Lillian Weinberg’s home was the size of a track field.
It was early this year that news of the famous American pop star Lillian Weinberg’s relationship was made public. A fan snapped a photo of the celebrity’s rendezvous with her secret lover, posting it on every social media platform in existence. Once the photo went around, it took the internet by storm, even making it to national TV in Japan. After all, why wouldn’t it? Lillian Weinberg was dating Japan’s own JAXA astronaut, Ishigami Byakuya.
Somehow, through all that, Asagiri Gen finds himself in the middle of scorching Houston, Texas, invited to perform for the very couple’s wedding in less than five days.
“Well, isn’t it the magic man himself? Welcome, hun! Let's get you all settled in, now.”
Gen straightens up from the bride-to-be’s sudden greeting. There, Lillian Weinberg is smiling, dressed in common, casual clothing in front of him, waving to her newly arrived guest into her abode.
“You need something to drink or eat? Hope you ate and slept aplenty on that plane ride. Please, let me know if there’s anything you need!” Lillian dotes.
The infamous Southern hospitality of the starlet is comforting. Any preconceived nerves Gen had immediately dissipated, making it easier for him to ask for a single accommodation.
“I’m fine, Ms. Weinberg. The flight was quite nice. There was a lot of legroom. Although… I could go for a cola if that isn’t too much trouble.” Gen asks politely, letting his little addiction to the drink take over.
“Oh, don’t go calling me Ms. Weinberg now, just call me Lillian. Here, ‘scuse me as I go grab you that Coke right quick for you, sweetie.”
As the hostess leaves to retrieve Gen his drink, Gen quickly surveys his surroundings. From standing at the doorway, he could tell that the whole mansion was as grand as the superstar herself; pristine marble tiling at the entrance hall’s floor with equally clean white paint on the walls accented by warm walnut wood. The stairs themselves are double staircases that curve into a balcony-like point on the second floor, displaying an extravagant crystal chandelier in between. A very grandiose impression at first glance, till you get to the smaller, humble details of personal framed pictures, aligned with mismatched knick-knacks.
“Here you go, hun. One nice and cold cola just for you!” the blonde returns, passing the canned soda to her visitor.
Gen holds the red canister. He starts picking at the tab, stopping midway. He could drink it right here, but it would feel a bit impolite if another guest were to come and see him blocking the way.
“Thank you so much, Lillian.” swiftly accepting the permission of the singer’s first name.“ But is it okay that I drink after I put my luggage away?”
“Oh, where are my manners?! Let’s get you to your room now, shall we? Come on, follow me.”
Lillian instantly grabs one of Gen’s carry-ons before letting him wheel the bag himself, slippers clacking the floor following her. Gen takes the hint and doesn’t take off his shoes. Leading past the stairway, they stand facing a tall tube of glass and metal stuck in the room behind. Ah, a home elevator. Of course, this house would have one, Gen thinks to himself.
Once at the magician’s room for the week, Lillian opens the door. It is a nice, decently sized room, plainly decorated compared to the rest of the mansion. However, it also comes with a full bathroom attached inside. Seemingly a standard guestroom.
Gen put his baggage to the side, slipping off his shoes for indoor slippers he brought himself. Finally, with the opportunity to gulp down his sweet carbonated beverage, Gen savors each refreshing, cold sip. Lillian told him that he may rest for the remainder of the day or roam around while she helps the set-up crew in the backyard if he wishes. The equipment for his part of the act would be coming in later that day, pieced together in the same vicinity for the magician to inspect before the rehearsal dinner.
Taking the instructions into account, Gen unpacks fresh clothes. He had had enough of being in the same outfit, drenched in sweat and outdoor odors from being out for so long. He takes quick advantage of the shower to himself, taking his time making sure every part is scrubbed thoroughly. Clean at last.
Normally, Gen would rather stay indoors getting friendly with the air conditioner in late July, but his manager had other plans. His manager did too good of a job of making sure Gen’s schedule was clear so he could enjoy the trip to its fullest.“Meet new friends. Try new things.” That's what Gen was told, except Gen knew exactly what his manager was truly implying. “Mingle with as many A-listers as possible who show up at Lillian Weinberg’s wedding.”
It’s always a networking game with that guy, but that is essentially his job. It still annoys Gen regardless. It didn’t help with the fact that Gen didn’t have anything planned for himself, expecting to arrive at the estate in the evening. Not to mention, all of his self-sightseeing plans are to take place during the two days after the wedding alone, courtesy of Lillian herself.
Bored, Gen strolls towards the backyard to watch the hired help put together the platform. Might as well learn what kind of stage he’s performing on. Surely, he won’t be a bother to them. Maybe they will give Gen something to do to occupy him, right?
O ⦿ O
The backyard’s perfect green lawn is littered with chairs, tables, and the like. Gen slumps over in a seat under one of the tents, hiding from the beating sun. Lazily, he starts playing on his phone as there truly was nothing for him to do, not even someone to talk to. Well… till his stuff arrives, he supposes.
If Gen recalls correctly, the couple plans on having their marriage under wraps with a smaller ceremony at home before driving everyone off to a more remote location for the after-party. “ Smaller, ” Gen tells himself hesitantly, seeing that there are enough chairs for at least 200 attendees. He heard the phrase “Everything is bigger in Texas” several times in the past, always dismissing it as some sort of silly American joke told to foreigners. It appears as though that joke is likely true; perhaps 200 guests is “ smaller ” from the bride’s perspective.
Gen carries on scrolling his phone, checking if there is anything trending relating to the big day this Saturday. Surprisingly, not a word, not even a whisper of gossip. Lillian or whoever is organizing this wedding runs an admirable tight ship.
“HEY, WE’RE BAAAAACK!!!” The booming voice startles Gen, almost dropping his device to the dirt.
Three individuals around his age appear through the back door of the yard, two male and one female. Each one held four long boxes, the loud one in the middle carrying about triple that. Correction, quadruple. Seeing the boxes’ apparent lightness and floral patterns, the three were either helping with decorations or the world’s most excessive bouquet.
“We got the flowers, Lillian. All 1600 of them and foliage.” The quieter of the two men speaks, his one hand fumbling over his phone screen, all while blowing away the bangs covering his face.
First name bases in such a casual and familiar way to Weinberg. The man’s attitude piques Gen’s interest. Not only that, the new stranger has such an eye-catching appearance; light hair that flows upwards in gravity-defying fashion, flashing with vivid leaf green tips in contrast to striking red eyes. Curious, Gen continues to watch.
“Aw, bless you three! Where would I be without y'all?” Lillian takes some of the boxes from the walking vegetable’s hands, arranging them on the ground.
In her line of sight, she spots Gen, forcing their eyes to meet. Lillian invitingly gestures to her fellow entertainer. “Don’t be shy, now! Get on over here!”
Gen slides out of his seat, making his way to the entourage.
Lillian introduces Gen to the trio of friends. The two star-struck brunettes are Yuzuriha and Taiju. Without a doubt, the two are a couple from how Yuzuhira places a hand on Taiju’s arm with the gentlest touch, glancing at each other in kind disbelief at the famed stage magician’s appearance. New...Or childhood sweethearts? Hard to tell. Gen observes.
The third mystery man, who looks as though he would rather be anywhere else but be stuck in a social situation, is Senku.
Gen recognizes that name. He remembers a video that recirculated on the internet shortly after Weinberg and Ishigami’s relationship was made public. It was a news clip from roughly 6 years ago where a field anchor was live at the launch site of the space shuttle Soyuz. Byakuya rushed out from the ship, practically hijacking the broadcast. He snatched the microphone from the anchor, declaring to the world that he would bring back a mountain of souvenirs from space to someone of the same name.
This peculiar, blunt man is Ishigami Senku, son of Ishigami Byakuya, and soon-to-be step-son of Lillian Weinberg.
“I’m sure you three don't need any introduction to who this is —"
“YOU’RE ASAGIRI GEN!!” Taiju lets sheer excitement run through, shouting as loudly as he first came in.
“I-I can't believe that we get to see you right here! We’re huge fans!” Yuzuriha brings out her hand to shake Gen's.
“Pleasure to meet you all, too!~" Gen says in his usual televised inflections, exchanging greetings with the young lady. He glances at Senku to see if he has something to say.
“My old man is the fan, not me. I don’t care about mentalism and fake tricks. Nothing magical about it, just a bunch of barely credible psychology and hidden strings.” Senku says uncaringly.
“ Senku! Don’t speak to our guests like that.” Lillian scolds him like a child.
Gen gives a soft chuckle, smiling in reassurance that he is not bothered by the other’s harsh opinion.
“I take no offense. Where would a great magician be without their fellow skeptics along the way~?” keeping the same tone as before. Admittedly, not the best first interaction, but certainly not the worst Gen sat through in a lifetime of showbiz.
“How ‘bout we open up them boxes now? Ooh, can’t wait to see all the flowers!” Lillian kneels, taking keys out of her pocket to use as a box cutter.
Peeking from the smallest opening of the lid are hues of pink and purple. Without even thinking for a fraction of a second, Gen knew it was wrong. The wedding invitation his manager presented was in a rich, nightly shade of blue, sprinkled with gold and white silver ink to mimic the starry skies. Even just looking at the furniture outdoors, being a pastel version of the same sky-inspired palette, is confirmation that these are not the right flowers. Gen had to ask subtly, just to be safe.
“Not to step on anyone's toes, but were the flowers always planned to be so… colorful? ” he hints.
“ Shit. ” Senku immediately takes off his lanyard of keys to rip open a different box. Pink and purple, just exactly as the last.
“ Why didn’t I check before we left? ” Senku curses, and Gen listens.
Everyone rushes to take apart another box, only to meet the same gradient of hues as the last. Not only are the colors wrong, but so are the types of flowers. 550 carnations, 215 lilies, 210 wisterias, 75 calla lilies, 345 snapdragons, 180 baby’s breath, 400 of various foliage, and 15 single roses, Senku counted out loud for them. The human-computer records the numbers to a chatlog, pushing his hair up in controlled frustration.
“OH NO, THE WEDDING'S RUINED!!!!” Taiju wails. It is an unfortunate situation they are in. The wedding is five days away, and reordering that many replacement flowers in such a short amount of time would be impossible, at least without causing suspicion.
“Pipe down, you big oaf. The wedding is not ruined.” Senku stands and stretches his back, sore from being hunched over, counting.
With confidence, Senku assures the group, “We can return everything to the shipping warehouse and they’ll fix it for us. If they can’t, we’ll just work with what we have. Worst case, we make a trip to every florist in Houston.”
“But the driver just left to pick up Kohaku and her family from the airport. Should we call an Uber?” Yuzuriha suggests.
“No. Uber doesn't let you pick what kind of cars you can hop on. Even if we could, it's still not guaranteed that they will let you use their car as a personal delivery cab.” Senku’s hand wraps the lower half of his face, index finger tapping his cheek as he mulls over the situation.
“How ‘bout I drive y’all instead? We still got the Ford in the garage.” Lillian twirls the keys on her fingers.
Gen winces at the idea of an all-time billboard top seller going around town looking for 2000 missing flowers and decorative leaves. Otally-tay, not suspicious.
“That’s not very covert. ” Senku continues to think, squinting at the group of men still working on the stage. “Maybe if we pay one of them to keep their mouth shut…”
“I can drive.”
They all look at Gen, not expecting him to offer his services. Having their guest of honor drive them around like an errand boy is not on their list of solutions, especially a guest who came out to the country that same day. However, it is exactly the kind of task Gen has been looking to do since he came downstairs.
“I have experience driving around Vegas, and my International Driving Permit is still valid. I need a little something to do anyway. It’ll be fun for me!” Gen tries to lift the atmosphere.
“Are you sure? Houston highways are nothing like the inner roads of Las Vegas.” Senku says with a hint of taunt in his voice.
Taking the challenge, Gen amusingly replies, “Doubting my driving skills when we just met, Senku? How hard could it be?”
O ⦿ O
“STOP HONKING AT ME!!!” Gen sobs, death gripping the wheel every time a car whizzes past them. “Why do you all drive so fast?!”
“Are you kidding me? They’re driving fine. You’re the one driving slow.”
Senku laughs at Gen without taking his eyes or fingers away from the phone screen. The driving speed around Japan is 100 kilometers or 60 miles per hour. Barely a difference from the current speed of 65 miles per hour. However, the drivers in Texas see it as much less of a speed limit and more of a speed suggestion. It isn’t that Gen is driving too slow. Gen is going at a perfectly fine legal pace, it’s that everyone else is a speed fiend.
It’s just the two of them on the road. The Ford turns out not to be a pick-up truck as Gen expected, forcing them to fold down the backseats to have everything fit inside. Not that it matters, as Senku’s companions volunteered before to help with other tasks for the wedding, tailoring bridesmaid dresses, moving furniture, or whatnot.
“Start merging to the right here. Exit’s coming in two miles.” Senku instructs.
Gen carefully moves the automobile out of the race track, the Texans call a highway. A few left turns later, they park at the shipping facility. Senku hurries to grab a box to bring with them. When they enter, a single lone employee is spotted manning the front desk. The employee was about to bite into their sandwich, but reluctantly had to set their lunch down once they heard the shopkeeper's bell announcing their entrance.
Disappointed, the employee sighs and puts on their best customer service voice, “Welcome, how can I help you today?”
“Hi. We received the wrong package and need to get ours as soon as possible. Here’s the receipt we received earlier today from here, and the one from the website we ordered it from.” Senku hands over the slip of paper to the person behind the desk. He opens up the box, explaining how the content does not match the invoice, listing each flower present and in the car in great detail, and comparing them to the paperwork.
“Yup, that is wrong,” the person agrees. “Let me check in the back and see if your package is still there. Just one second.”
The employee disappears to the warehouse, Gen catches a glimpse of Senku’s on his phone again. He sees the Safari page with the shipping service’s FAQ before Senku’s fingers open additional apps, Google Maps, LINE, and Google Sheets with a sense of urgency. Gen raises one of his eyebrows. Even before the confirmation, he’s anticipating the “worst case”. Must be a strict company. Given typical delivery times, it would be too late if the boxes were to be on a truck already.
Right on cue, the worker returns with the exact news they were dreading to hear.
“Hey, man, sorry. I think your package already went out to the other address.”
Unlucky.
Senku gave an exasperated groan. A huge wrench had been thrown their way. Senku immediately starts messaging the others, ready to start the contingency plan.
Gen steps forward. He has observed enough.
“Hey, would it be fine to ask you guys to take the boxes back and make a swap by the end of the day? It would be greatly appreciated.” Gen pleaded, hands clasped together.
Senku, about to interject, is stopped by Gen’s nudging elbow. Taken aback, Senku crosses his arms and lets Gen work his magic.
Step one, ask for a request more than what you expect out of the other. Let them correct you and learn the limits of what can be done.
“Sorry, can’t do that. The last truck left at 11 in the morning. But I can help you fill out this form, and the company will try to resolve your issue in the next one to three days. They’ll prioritize perishable goods. Also, may I suggest that you email the flower company as well for any further compensation.”
Gen nods along, taking in the information. It will take a bit of play by ear, but nothing a mentalist can’t handle. Now for step two: Guilt tripping. People typically are nice and will try their best to assist one another. Just be sure not to put the blame on them when you do.
In a disheartened voice, Gen continues, “Three days? Aww, the flowers will all wilt by then. That’s such a shame…Our dear “Lily” would be so sad. The big day is tomorrow, and she’s been looking forward to it forever. I can’t help but feel bad for the other little girl who’s missing her flowers, too. ”
Remember again, don’t make them feel like you’re blaming them. Most don’t want to feel at fault and get defensive, or can find you not worth the trouble. Jest with them a bit.
Gen reviews in his head and goes on. “Is there really nothing else that can be done? Not even if we watch the front for you? I’m not that bad with phone calls~!”
“Haha. I’m sure you are, but no-can-do. Thank you, though,” the employee chuckles, somewhat amused by Gen’s antics. Good.
“Understandable. We shouldn't bother you too much, especially when we come in during your lunch. What is that, by the way? A New York Deli-style sandwich? It looks good.”
“It’s from Kenny & Ziggy’s. They’ve been in the Deli business since the 1920s and opened around here. Highly recommend it.”
“That sounds amazing, I’ll try it sometime.” Gen smiles kindly. Hoping to close the deal, Gen invokes step three :
Bear the responsibility. Make a reasonable-sounding request. Don’t let them think they are losing anything in return for helping you.
“Well, we don’t want to keep you away from your food any longer. Is it okay that we make the swap ourselves? You’ve already done so much for us, it’s the least we can do. You know? Like giving the mail back to your neighbor.”
“Hm… Yeah. I guess so. Let me see if the address is nearby.”
Bingo.
Gen gives a smug little grin in Senku’s direction. The brief befuddlement on Senku’s face before shifting to a relieved smirk makes Gen’s insides do a small celebratory victory dance.
O ⦿ O
Returning to the Ford, new address secured in hand, Senku inputs the location into the GPS, still with a smug look plastered on his face.
“I'm impressed, Gen. Guaranteed full confidentiality to their clients is that company’s policy, and yet you were able to make that guy spill out the address in less than 3 minutes.”
Gen huffs out a snicker. The first time that Gen has heard Senku say his name all day and it’s for something positive. Gen backs the vehicle, taking off as soon as the traffic clears for a safe turn onto the highway.
“So you’re admitting my mentalism is not stupid?”
Senku rolls his eyes, leaning back deeper into the leather of his seat, “Never said mentalism was stupid. The practice of using other people's words and observations to give a phony reading is a skill set of its own. I said I don’t care for it.”
“Until it comes to your benefit. How shallow.” Gen quips in a joking manner.
“ Wow. You must be so popular with the ladies.” Senku sarcastically states.
Despite the sarcasm, it is the most common assumption others have of Gen. The ability to figure out likes, dislikes, personality, and reactions almost instantly should give Gen the upper hand when it comes to romancing with anyone he desires, and yet.
“On the contrary, most girls don’t find someone who’s known for his ability to manipulate to be very appealing. Not that it bothers me too much —“ without thinking, Gen speaks.
“I prefer men anyway.”
Not missing a beat, Senku responds, “Should you be telling me this?”
Revealing to anyone his possible career-killing secret is a slip-up Gen would never make. The faintest idea of his fans relentlessly posting online how he “betrayed” them for weeks on end in parasocial fashion would make bile creep up his throat. On top of that, having a certain older population that inhabits every industry’s high chair with their fixed views of the world would jeopardize everything he built up.
But this is different. The two are in the same boat, each with their life-ruining secrets, maybe with one a bit more than the other. He’s sure that Senku wouldn’t appreciate paparazzi knocking, demanding Lillian's whereabouts every waking moment.
Even then, a part of himself doesn’t seem to mind the idea of starting over. Being so closed off about himself in a niche profession where he's constantly in the spotlight can feel isolating. Those parts of him, along with the secret they are harboring, are arguably why Gen let his guard down to Senku. That’s what he tells himself.
“Probably not~ Not like you’re going to tell anyone, though,” Gen says in a cheeky voice.
“Because if I do, you’re gonna leak the wedding to the tabloids?”
“Ecisely-pray!”
Senku scoffs, “ Suure, mentalist.”
Taking notice of the nickname, Gen lets out another quiet laugh. “Getting familiar with me already, dear Senku?” mirroring the mocking tone.
“Getting familiar? I’m way too familiar with how much your face is plastered everywhere back home. All those commercials and billboards of your show, not to mention that shitty book of yours —”
The magician isn’t insulted one bit. On any other day, he would say that the books are just mindless shelf fillers, but getting Senku riled up, switching between a stoic sense of self-assurance to a chain of rants as if Gen had criticized someone’s favorite Star Wars movie, is much more entertaining.
Gen gasps dramatically, continuing to tease his passenger, “What a errible-tay thing to say! You’re telling me that Einstein here didn't even enjoy any of the quizzes? Not even the little charts at the end pages?”
Gen watches Senku’s reaction carefully from the corner of his eye.
“The stats were guesstimations with no credible citations and the quizzes - The quizzes are what made the book shitty. It’s no different than a personality quiz on the horoscope section of some teenager’s magazine. What even made you want to write that stuff? Was it even you?”
Senku unconsciously shifted his body in a way that tried to cover the small E=mc² print on the breast pocket of his shirt. It’s not as noticeable with the light blue button-up covering over, however, Gen clocked it from the start.
“Too late for that, dear Senku.” Gen tuts. “So tell me… are you really a scientist or just another student with below-average grades who wishes to be associated with something greater?”
A deep-cut question he would have avoided asking, but Gen knew Senku could handle it. He wants to hear the man talk more.
Not taking the bait, Senku’s voice dropped a bit lower. “We both know that you have the answer, mentalist.”
Gen can feel the air stiffen. He can feel the other leaning in, staring directly, waiting. The sounds of clothing and leather moving told him as much. “ Tell me. What do you think?”
From a young age, Gen learned quickly and painfully that the easiest way to protect himself is to notice every minute detail that goes on around him. The more he climbed up, the more consistently alert Gen had to be. Scarcely had he encountered anyone possibly as observant as he is, let alone dare challenge him. His natural reaction is to close up, allowing only vagueness to escape his lips, not letting the other through. He has no idea what intentions the opposition has against him, especially in the chaotic world of fame and fortune. And yet, an ease washes over Gen in the confines of this moving piece of rubber and metal. Gen lets his mouth run.
“The mad scientist's hair aside… It’s not difficult to say that you are in some sort of STEM-related field, given that your sole guardian is an astronaut and a former university professor. Of course, it wouldn’t be correct to say that your upbringing is conclusive evidence that you would grow up to have the same interest in space or physics, especially if you two happen to be on bad terms… Most children who are at odds with their parents tend to pivot in the opposite direction. Given how often you are on your phone at every updatable incident, it’s safe to conclude that you have a close relationship with your father and he is indeed influential in your life. Ishigami Senku is indeed a scientist.”
“That’s easy stuff. Anything else beyond my upbringing?”
“Yes. Just right now. Your curiosity. Identifying people’s intelligence from appearance is difficult, but the personality of one is always similar. A driven curiosity. You asked why my book was written in a way and even doubted that if I wrote it instead of accepting it at face value, ripping it to pieces.” Gen takes a breather, pondering if he should stop there or not before trailing off to somewhere he can’t come back from. He continues.
“And care, you do… You’re the one who essentially helped plan most of the wedding, aren’t you? You must be very thankful to your father, Lillian, or maybe both, to put this much effort for them. Or maybe you just owe them one, but then… to shoulder this much responsibility. All those apps, sheets, and constant LINE updates… You could’ve blamed the flowers on the delivery facility. They did fucked up, for not checking either but you didn’t. Not even a “Why didn’t we check?” but a “Why didn’t I check…”
“Hm.”
The sound of Senku’s attentiveness snaps Gen's mind back from his trance-like exposition. He went a bit too deep. Reflecting, Gen asks himself, why is he even talking to the son-to-be of one of the most influential stars of their generation, like it’s nothing?
“Orry-say~ I’m talking too much. So, did you update your dad on us driving our way to get the flowers back??”
“No, you— “ Senku mutters under his breath another string of words that’s not audible to Gen. “Yeah, I did right before we got in the car.”
They continue with small talk for a short period before falling to a hush. The drive is long, given that the address is on the opposite end of the city. Both of them stare through the front dashboard’s glass, watching the road that grows ever so darker as the last bits of the sun get replaced by flashes of car beams and streetlights.
The two arrived at the house. Exchanges went smoothly as the family was in complete gratitude at the two’s appearance, saving their girl’s 15th birthday. Unfortunately, the family assumed that the florist had made a mistake on their order before it was sent out. Making up for their presumed loss, they went ahead and snipped some of the plants. Senku puts their minds at ease that they were not at fault, neither of them could’ve predicted this outcome, and it was all salvageable. After thanking Gen and Senku once more, the mother of the household gives the pair a generous surplus of food for their troubles.
O ⦿ O
“Come on, Senku— Just one bite!” Gen begs.
The intoxicating smells of meat, spices, and fresh herbs engulf his mind. They were given stacks of cabrito, birria, carne asada, and many Mexican delights that Gen had only ever read about online. The more he inhales the more he wants to sink his teeth into the styrofoam containers, plastic poisoning be damned. When is he ever going to find authentic Mexican food like this in the Tokyo area?
“No way. Keep your hands on the wheel. Eat when we get home.” Senku rejects.
Gen understands that even though the car is not the most recent model, it is still in immaculate shape. They would prefer not to disrespect the owner of the SUV by tarnishing the floor with food stains. Even so, Gen is starving, he hasn't eaten a single crumb since stepping into the country, excluding that one can of cola earlier. Just hold on, he tells himself. Just a little longer. Humans can last without eating for three days. What's 18 hours?
Gen’s own body betrays him, growling loudly, unleashing the most inhuman and humiliating sounds it could.
“When was the last time you ate?” Gen hears Senku rustle through the bag, looking for something that can fill the mentalist’s stomach.
“Maybe the plane… but that’s okay! I can wait —”
“Here.” Senku shoves a piece of fruit slathered in a red sauce and chili powder that Gen couldn’t identify right away into his mouth. “It’s fine, I’ll feed you. Eat it before it drips onto your pants. Just don’t crash us.”
Gen eats the fruit, letting each flavor of sweet and spicy linger on his tongue. He keeps his eyes on the road as Senku shoves more fruit into his face. After some time, the scientist points to the road sign, asking if Gen could identify it.
Not thinking much of the request, Gen reads out loud, “NASA road… Is this really where it all happens? Not like just an honorary name, right?”
“Sure is, mentalist. At least one of them. Around this curve, you should see the sign.”
As the car makes its turn, the building’s landmark shows itself in bold blue colors reflecting from the car’s light in the dark: The NASA Space Center.
“Wasn’t your father stationed here for a bit? I remember him being on the International Space Station, but I wasn’t sure if that meant he got to physically be at NASA.”
“He was. Every astronaut in the States has to train at the Johnson Space Center at least once. The funny thing is that my old man totally flunked the clothes swimming exam the first time around from a leg cramp. Luckily, he passed the next one, but man, was that embarrassing for him.” Senku reminisces.
“What does swimming in clothes have to do with anything with being an astronaut?” Gen asks curiously, not exactly connecting the two dots just yet.
“It’s for the neutral buoyancy pool training. Normally, when people get in water, they either sink or float. But with the scuba gear, controlling the right weight and breathing, people can experience neutral buoyancy, causing them not to sink or rise. That’s what neutral buoyancy is: an equilibrium between buoyancy trying to keep you afloat and your weight bringing things down. It’s the closest thing to having a space-like environment on Earth.”
“I see…” Gen follows Senku’s words. The way that Senku explains such topics is in a captivating way. It is easy and concise for anyone to comprehend. Frankly, it did help that Gen faintly remembers the topic from past readings.
“Did you know that a part of the human body also experiences neutral buoyancy?” Senku quizzes Gen.
“Yes, in the brain. The brain is suspended in cerebrospinal fluid. If the brain weren’t floating, it could cut off of blood supply, killing neurons in the lower parts.”
Senku lets out a soft whistle. He’s impressed. Sure, cold readings require the smallest amount of knowledge, mainly relying on vague statements and questioning. It’s even easier now with the majority of the population being on social media, one Google search away from revealing everything from their birthday, their pet names, and family history. Despite that, Gen takes great pride in his work, preferring to do it the old-fashioned way, finding it much more satisfying than having an earpiece hidden behind his bangs. It just so happens that learning a bit of psychology coincides with neuroscience…anatomy? Whichever or both.
“I wouldn’t still be in the job for this many years if I didn’t bother to learn a bit of the brain every once in a while. You probably know more about the brain scientifically than I do, though. Speaking of years — How old are you?”
Senku’s anonymity online was a minor topic at one point. His father’s declaration to the world didn’t give a lot of hints either, before meeting the groom’s son in the flesh, Gen estimated that Senku was anywhere from 10 to 20 by now.
“Twenty-two.” Only four years younger.
“Ah, I’m guessing Mr.Scientist is working on his master's or PhD right now?”
“My second master’s.” Senku responds in a very matter-of-fact manner.
“Eriously-say?” Senku said it all too nonchalantly. Gen death-grip the wheel in case he swerves, bracing himself for whatever he’s about to hear next out of the other man’s mouth. “How did you complete your first one so fast?”
Senku looks up at the car roof. “A master's doesn’t take too long, only about two years. One depends on the field. I already finished my first bachelor's by the time I was out of high school. When I got out, I immediately enrolled in college here for astrophysics and astroengineering.”
Gen sighs, not knowing what else to expect, “So, I wasn’t far off that you’re following in your father’s footsteps of going to space?”
“Not exactly.” Senku plays with one of his bangs, twirling it between his fingers. “I do want to go to space, but I’m going to do it my way. I want to design my own rocket and fly it to the moon.”
“ Design your own rocketship? ” Gen repeats back.
“Yeah, I've always wanted to, ever since I was a kid. I started with a bunch of smaller-scale models before moving up to engineering rocket propulsion. I even badgered a NASA scientist to look at my schematics for feedback since I was about maybe… eight?”
Gen let Senku chatter on. Still partially paying attention, he catches something about a translation dictionary to learn English, but half of his mind is already occupied. Gen knew the man to his left was intelligent but not a full-blown genius. Gen doesn’t believe Senku to be bluffing either. Senku is blunt to a fault, perhaps a bit of a jerk around the mentalist. Still, the sheer motivation of this man before him has struck Gen in awe. While Gen has been reaching for the metaphorical stars, Senku reaches for the actual stars in the sky.
O ⦿ O
According to Senku, his father is staying at a hotel with his family members who just flew over for a while, catching up with them. So for now, the residence is mainly occupied by Lillian, Yuzuriha, and Taiju, waiting for the pair to come back home to eat together despite the time being beyond a typical dinner hour. Fortunately, the abundance of food Gen and Senku received came in handy, letting the mansion dwellers forego the idea of late-night take-out.
While Lillian and Taiju prepare plates, the other three know time is ticking for the flowers. The plants traveled for far longer than intended during one of the hottest times of the year. Yuzuriha instructs Gen and Senku to gather buckets, filling them with water, trimming the plants at an angle so they can take the feed, along with plucking any wilted leaves to make their job easier the following day. Senku suggests a concoction of their own making would make the flowers last even longer. Yuzuriha says that she would rather not be given the time, not to mention that they only need the plants for a week, what sellers have provided will suffice.
She pesters her friend about how he should be asking Lillian’s driver to take him back to this dormitory to get some decent sleep. Senku waves it off, claiming that he has a set sleep schedule; if he tried to get in bed early, it wouldn’t make any difference, as he would pass out around the same time like clockwork.
Midnight came just as the five finished preparations with all two thousand flowers. After making additional plans for the next day, Yuzuriha and Taiju were shooed away by Senku to rest for the night. Lillian offered to stay up with the two night owls, only to be dismissed to her quarters as well. Gen assures the host that the kitchen will be cleaned of scattered leaves, plates, and wilted petals. Saying goodnight to Lillian, he also promises to make sure that their dear Senku will not stay too late in the night.
Collecting the last bits of trimming, Senku stuffed as much as he could into the plastic shopping bag they brought home from the previous house. Looking like it’s ready to burst, Gen stands behind Senku, holding out a second to avoid the two having to sweep plant matter all over again. Senku looks to the side, brushing back his hair. Seeing the polythene sack, he grabs it from Gen’s hand.
“So, what do you think of your first day in Texas?” Senku asks.
“Iring-tay, but fun,” Gen admits. As exhausted as he is from being constantly on the move, he did enjoy the outing very much. It certainly beats his previous choice of bed-rotting the rest of the day away.
“Yeah. Sorry about that. Didn’t think we would end up in a four-hour-long side quest. Probably made you fall behind your plans. You still got your stuff to check, right?”
“I do, but it’s fine. Unless… If you’re feeling bad for me, maybe you can put that engineering degree to use and help me tomorrow!~”
Senku agreed immediately, “Okay, sure. I can do that.” Senku starts to rub the back of his head, looking at the ground, thinking over his next words. “By the way…Thank you. You didn’t have to do anything for us, but thanks anyway. It’s…nice of you.”
Something about hearing the scientist be so sincere, even for just for fleeting moment, makes Gen’s mind take a pause. Nice? No, no. He’s your most typical selfish entertainer. He lies and tricks others like breathing air, being able to dive deep into the other’s mind and habits just from one encounter, for his advantage. It’s always been that way. Half of the industry avoids him because of so. Gen can’t believe in himself being considered nice.
“Oh~? Nice of me?” Gen retorts. “What makes you think that I’m not taking this as an opportunity to make Lillian like me more for my agenda?”
“You could be, but that’s not your intention,” Senku said quietly with a lack of his usual confidence.
“Really, now?” With a sly grin on Gen’s face, he levels himself down to Senku, staring into the edge of Senku’s peripheral vision. “ Tell me, dear Senku. What’s your evidence on me? What makes me so nice ?”
“Fishing for compliments, mentalist?”
“Awww got me there~” Gen says with masking playfulness.
Gen looked down when he joked. When he shifts this gaze back onto Senku, he meets a set of ruby eyes staring at him closer than ever before with intensity. They are so gem-like.
Feeling heat rising to the tips of his ears, Gen turns his head forward, averting the other’s gaze.
“If you must know—” Senku tries to explain.
“No, wait, you're actually going for it?” Gen cuts Senku off. “Arguing about myself to me? The mentalist? Overstepping your specialty, much?”
“Yeah, only because you’re wrong.” Senku snaps back.
“And your need to be right is compelling you to correct me?”
“10 billion percent.”
“10 billion percent?”
“That’s right. 10 billion percent.” Senku affirms.
Gen bursts into laughter. What a ridiculous and stubborn man. This kind of stubbornness leads one to email NASA at the age of 8. The kind of stubbornness that earns a person two degrees before the age of 23. The kind of stubbornness that doesn’t let Gen get away with deflecting compliments. The kind of stubbornness Gen can appreciate.
O ⦿ O
After the kitchen became as spotless as it once was, Gen invites Senku to walk upstairs with him. Senku takes immediate notice that Gen’s staying in his room, or at least the room he tends to stay in whenever the campus dorms close. That explains it. Gen thought the neutral interior was a design choice in consideration of those to come. Instead, it’s just the straightforward personality of the sentient bok-choy being reflected. Gen, being the mischievous cat he is, starts snooping around.
Senku, leaning on the door’s frame, watches the fruitless effort. “There’s no secret diary, mentalist.”
Shrugging in defeat, Gen sighs, “And here I was hoping to see some of those leftover experiments you so fondly talked about.”
“All that stuff is all at the university or back in Japan. What did you bring me here for?”
Unzipping through the many pockets of his carry-on, Gen finds what he is looking for, pulling out a singular lavender elastic band and presents it to Senku. Gen’s hair may not be as long as most girls, but he is quite a thin man given his height. Oversized shirts are commonplace in Gen’s closet, tying the excess fabric back with hairbands before tucking in or throwing a coat over is the norm for the magician.
“Have this. You’ve been blowing at your bangs throughout the day. If you’re going to keep doing manual labor or work with whatever chemicals you have back in your campus lab, you’ll need it.”
“I have plenty at my dorm,” Senku pockets the hairband anyway.
“Then bring some back with you next time.”
“Next time,” Senku repeated back, slower.
A quaint silence is shared between them till the honk of a car breaks it. It’s Senku’s ride.
“Well, I’ll see you then, mentalist.”
“See you, then, dear Senku.” He mirrors.
Gen watches Senku walk away, gradually disappearing step by step to the first floor. He hears a car door slam and an engine revving before going distant. He’s gone for now.
After another change of clothes, Gen flops onto the mattress. He can feel all the tension in his body fading away, sinking deeper into the layers of cotton and silk sheets that still smell fresh from the laundry. Gen’s mind grows drowsier and heavier. He rolls his head to look out the window.
The moon is there in all its basking, the room with its white glow, accompanied by the countless stars. Gen smiles, his manager’s words echoing in his mind once more. “ Meet new friends.” Impossible, he thought. It’s only seven short days he’s visiting. Seven days out of the thousands Gen will live through. He accepted that he would go about the days alone. However, on this first day, he finds himself driving through a city with one of the most interesting passengers he has ever met, finding enjoyment in their little banters and conversation.
Maybe for just this week, Gen did make a new friend.
Even if, once August rolls around and they will never speak to each other again, for seven short days, Gen can have a friend.