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As you may know, Senkuu was not known for his luck. In fact, more often than not, his luck was the architect of his misfortunes. Love, he wanted to believe, was one more of those misfortunes his luck had left on his doorstep like a cat offering a dead mouse as a gift.
The scientist didn’t want to admit that the feelings rooted in his heart made it impossible to concentrate on any future that didn’t have them both as protagonists of a love story.
It was as hard for him to admit he was in love as it was easy to face the situation with brutal honesty.
“Hey, goldilocks. I like you.” That’s what he said one day, determined to free himself from the shackles of love.
“I figured. Who wouldn’t love me?” was the answer he got that day.
And with the cursed missfortune he carried, that same day he lost his sanity in heated kisses, dazzling, surreal kisses, aboard the ship Senkuu himself had built, just like he had built his own downfall.
Because love was irrational, right?
How hard it was to stay focused when lips brushed against his neck and interrupted his scientific work. How tormenting it was to think clearly when arms clung to his back, desperate to melt into his skin, to kiss him until the world ceased to exist.
“The problem is you’re too intense.” He said one day, closer to the present.
“Forgive me. It’s the first time I’ve tasted heaven.”
How could he resist those words? Postponing responsibilities—life itself—felt natural when those lips were involved.
He, as the scientist captain, had made the terrible mistake of falling in love with the captain of the Perseus. A man ambitious, greedy, addicted to overindulgence. And worse yet—Ryuusui loved him back.
It was so wrong and yet so right to indulge in each other.
It was wonderful. Marvelous. True love at its best.
Senkuu wasn’t about to admit this was the greatest mistake of his life: to love and be loved back in a petrified world, such a catastrophe worth his sanity.
He was supposed to lead, to remain austere—but he couldn’t deny himself the experience of being loved, of letting his partner rest his face on his chest to listen to his heartbeat, to the flow of his breath. And it was even worse when the caresses came with sweet words.
“Such ruthless scars.” Whispered the blond against Senkuu’s skin, rubbing his hooked nose against the wounds. “I’m going to heal your heart and body.”
“With kisses and sweet nothings alone? Nonsense. Your logic lacks science.”
And still, he melted under the touch, the voice, the way Ryuusui adored him without restraint.
It felt awful to be comforted while so many were still trapped in stone, while they sailed across the sea toward America, with limited provisions, endless work and the privilege of sleeping in the best bed beside the man he desired the most.
“When all of this is over, when we’ve rebuilt civilization, we’ll go public with our love.” Ryuusui said the morning before they arrived in America. “Just stay alive, because once everyone knows we’re together, I won’t stop kissing you until the whole world gets sick of the passion you make me feel.”
And his luck—damned luck!—that had condemned him to fall in love under the worst circumstances, would bring forth a bullet that pierced his lung.
And with that luck, that dream of a life together, that vision of a better future, faded like sand slipping through his fingers.
Senkuu would say, if he believed in God, that his life had been saved by a miracle. Since he didn’t believe in miracles, it only seemed natural to risk his life again, boarding a plane with the person he trusted most.
If they were to die, let it be in the ecstasy of recklessness, amid terrible decisions and the best possible company.
Ever since Ryuusui had entered his life, that cursed luck transformed into the wind behind the sails that guided him toward the future.
It didn’t matter if no one knew. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t focus on his work.
Triumphing over bad luck time and time again only made him long even more for a future where they could be together, where they could sail around the world saving people from Medusa’s power, where they could shamelessly skip duties and kiss in public with no shame at all.
“So what if they find out?” Ryuusui whispered in his ear, hugging him from behind. “If they’re going to find out, let them talk, let them complain. If they’re going to whine, let them—but nothing will take away the feelings I have for you.”
“That would be reckless. Recklessness doesn’t suit my personality.” He replied, unaffected liar, as he traced a map that would lead them to victory over the South American pursuit. “We’ll prioritize the greater good.”
Because without a doubt, the weight of the world was heavier than a wild romance.
But that didn’t discourage the captain, who savored every kiss, every touch, every embrace. Loving someone like that filled him with pride and made him want more, crave more. Sleeping together was no longer enough—he needed to tear off his skin and soul to intertwine it with Senkuu’s.
“Victory will be ours.” Senkuu declared one day.
It’s a sad thing to admit that luck was never on his side—not during the happiest days, nor the most passionate ones.
Because he had fallen in love only to lose everything.
Because when Suika finally freed him from the stone, Ryuusui was doomed never to wake again.
His statue, smiling through pain, full of hope, laid down with the cracks of the bullet that had pierced too far, too deep.
His life had been stolen years ago, and for lack of one missing piece of the puzzle, he would never open his eyes again.
Senkuu's luck had cursed Ryuusui the day they fell in love.
Because there were no happy endings for him. Nothing more painful than loving only to lose.
Senkuu had to be content with the memories Ryuusui had left him—each stolen kiss, each secret night where making love had felt like their only refuge.
He wasn’t ready. This couldn’t be the end. How could one savor a triumph with the bitterness of having lost what mattered most?
“Please, please, goldilocks. Don’t go. It’s not time to part, not yet. You promised we’d love each other madly once this war was over.”
Crying wouldn’t fix anything… but people don’t cry to fix things. They cry to soothe the unbearable pain of living with regret.
“Wait a little longer, wait for me Ryuusui. I’ll find a way to see you again.”
If not in this life, then in the next.
Because in this life, luck wouldn’t let him kiss that skin again.