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Tensions were high between the Kingdom of Science and the former Tsukasa Empire. Which was why Gen was hosting a competition!
Of course, Magma and Yo were the only ones still interested in participating in the ship design contest after hearing Senku was competing as well. No matter! The important thing was the illusion of choice; everyone got to choose if they wanted to participate. But he needed Senku's design to win.
The scientist himself was unhappy about there being just three participants. As fond of new perspectives as he was, he really was expecting more people to participate and share their ideas. However, his expression changed when Magma revealed his design.
Senku lit up in a way that looked a little bit like awe, a little bit like hope, and a lot like exhilaration.
He was always testing, gathering information, redoing, refining, and testing again; they were always moving forward under his rule.
His science saved Gen. It showed him what hope had felt like again.
It helped with his mid-war admission of the Lillian Weinberg lie. The offer of a real meal, proper medicine and healthcare and hygiene, of electricity and heaters and stoves, and everything else… it was kind of overwhelming for those previously in the Empire of Might. That this was the life they could have lived while they spent multiple winter nights huddled up in caves eating flavorless meat… of course it motivated them to appreciate the pursuit of science.
He'd built his approach keeping in mind how painful it must've been for them to hear they weren't being saved after all.
This was delicate, so he couldn't mess up. The more needed he is, the deeper his name will be written in the plaster that filled in the cracks. Gen simply couldn't let anyone turn their back on him, point fingers at him, or discard him. It was a huge responsibility, but it came with being useful.
The competition was only the first of his plans; he's got his work cut out for him.
Gen could never tire of this view. Stretches of forest, a sprawling landscape, and the vastness of the sky. There was an immensity to it that made him unsure what to look at first. He wasn't sure why they were gathered on a cliff; it might've been for reception, but he was sure the observatory worked just fine. Were they here since it was a decent vantage point?
A cool breeze ruffled their hair and clothes, and everything seemed just fine—if not for the tenseness in Senku's shoulders. Gen drew his attention to his favorite scientist.
"What're you talking about, Senku?"
"Just something I should have thought about way sooner. Feels like every time I screw up, real scientists would be disappointed in me."
Oh. It's the landscape.
He wanted to say that Senku isn't being fair to himself, but he knew that wasn't it.
It's how moments like this remind them all that the world didn't turn to stone with them. It's decades of research that only remain in the stone bodies still intact, centuries of humanity washed away with molten rock. Disastrous not because it was felt, but because it was not.
It's so easy to brush off this world as one that they'd somehow teleported into to have their mettle tested. It's the gaping disconnect in all of their brains, seeing the world so new and unfamiliar, yet coming across reminders of their old world stark against the green. And it's how Senku, the one who at times seems the most adjusted to their new reality, is not immune to this disconnect.
Senku handles all of it with grace. He looks to the world as if searching for an answer despite it all. When Gen looked ahead at the man, his back was so firm, he stood so tall.
But it changed when he turned to look at Gen.
Gen knew there's an abject sense of loss present in every one of them. It's not fair to ask a human to be able to comprehend a time period 30 to 50 times greater than an average lifespan. But the slight tilt of his head, the exhilaration yet direness in his eyes, it's a look Gen had never seen Senku directly give him. It's the look of someone who had lived through those 3719 years and knew exactly how long that was.
Senku looked to Gen as if to say, 'How did I miss this? Look at how our world has changed. I'm going to bring everything back, but the earth has shifted, and it can never be the same.' And Gen couldn't do anything about that. There are some things none of them can do, lest they build something like a time machine. There's the permanent changes to the terrain itself, there's centuries of artifacts and monuments, books and art so painstakingly preserved yet in turn lost to time themselves, there's pieces of humans that are too durable to turn to dust, yet too small to be found.
All he could do was remain being a person Senku could trust with that look in his eyes.
To see Ishigami Village from above was an experience unlike any other. If Senku didn't have them by his side, he doubted he would've even been alive to see any of this. He'd still be gathering iron sand or maybe learning how to blow glass. Everything that happened was out of his control; he counted because he wanted to survive. And he'd been surviving through every moment since then. But there were moments like this that came with rebuilding civilization—they made him feel grateful, more than anything.
It felt like coming home. It's a feeling he'd been longing for ever since he woke up here, in a world so unfamiliar and hostile. Here, he really, fully realizes that Ishigami Village is home.
The hands of all of his friends and an entire village were pulling him, Ryusui, and Chrome forward—quite literally, as they helped them with the touchdown. This hot air balloon was the product of more work than he could ever have done on his own.
The early morning air smelled of geosmin and ozone, the sunrise still fresh on the huts' roofs. Everyone's welcomes and cheers grounded him as he focused on getting the hot air balloon to land. He's a friend to many of them.
He was relieved to see that Ryusui was allowed inside. By now, his position as Chief was well established, and a friend of the Chief was always welcome. It'd taken quite a while for Gen to be accepted—his magic was still treated with suspicion, and he'd entered the bout area despite not being a competitor—but they warmed up to him after he betrayed Hyoga. In the end, the villagers would've been really happy to see Gen, too.
It's going to be a while until he sees him next.
The last time Gen had gotten a proper break, he was seated on a rock as he watched Francois' revival. In hindsight, the pose they were petrified in represented their character; the respectful bow stood out among the horrified expressions of the statues around them. Minami could identify them in seconds.
It was astonishing how quickly Francois pieced together the situation amid Gen's winded explanations and the scenery that offered little context.
He would've loved to say he didn't sign up for this, but he really sort of had. Having made this trip multiple times, he was the most suited to navigation, and he kind of just wanted to see the village again. He missed the village that had been so kind to him dearly; the fallen Mori Tower wasn't the magnesium hill, and the expansive sea wasn't the lake surrounding the village.
Honestly, next time—and he prays there won't be one—he might even take his chances with the hot air balloon. He couldn't feel his legs! Or any limb, for that matter! And it hadn't been a proper minute since they'd reached the village when Francois immediately began working on reintroducing bread, invigorated by Senku's and Ryusui's attempts at it. Much like Kaseki on watching Senku and Chrome blow glass.
Senku was grimacing over the chunk of carbon he called bread, and seeing that expression, so comical yet so determined, eased something in Gen. He took it as a cue to relax and drop dead on the ground. The sky's blue, the earth spins, and Senku's trying something out.
Senku's absence was like a ghost. He noticed it everywhere—when he'd visit the empty lab, having nothing to do, or when he looked up at the expansive stars and felt like talking about the old world. It had been a while since he'd seen Senku last, and Gen was grateful to see him in one piece after he flew right into that cumulonimbus cloud. There was a relief to seeing him in person. It's been four months, after all. He could feel his eyes drooping. He didn't even have the energy to cushion his head.
He hadn't registered that he'd fallen asleep before Senku was kicking him awake with a "Wake up, Mentalist! We're pickling vegetables!"
Gen couldn't find it in him to be all that annoyed; he could still remember how Senku had woken Chrome up by stuffing ammonia up his nose.
While the yeast in the bread fermented, Senku and Ryusui had introduced Francois to their infrastructure in Hakone. From what Gen had heard, they'd already been scouting places to open a restaurant, fully certain that if Ryusui had been revived, some form of currency had been reinvented.
"This might be a surprise to you, but I don't know an ing-thay about pickling vegetables—"
"You didn't know a thing about manganese batteries either, you'll be fine," Senku snorted, still poking him in the side.
Gen rolled over with a burdened sigh. "But that was like making onigiri!"
"See? You can cook just fine."
Senku, wearing a smirk with his hands on his hips, looked upside-down when Gen looked up at him from this angle. He stared at him for a long time with a small frown, then finally huffed, "Those aren't the same at all, help me up."
He approached Ukyo after one of his shifts on the ground exploration team. The work was hard on them, and the paths they were following were long and treacherous.
Conversations with Ukyo flow easily.
"Doesn't it get tiring? Being known as the sonar and archery guy?" Gen had no qualms asking him about it; he knew Ukyo wouldn't mind.
"I was revived because I can shoot straight and hear well, but I'm a teacher now. You were revived to spy on a man, and now you're his right hand." He could sense himself smiling at that. He had a feeling that Ukyo saw through his question. "Tsukasa wanted to revive a skill, and what he got was a person, and that person can have thoughts and make choices," he continued, "wrong ones, sometimes. That person has memories from a life lived and a unique perspective gained from it. That's what makes a person different from a skill."
But the person needs connections to survive, Gen more than most. And he'll only have those if he stays relevant—if he's needed. So he replies, "I'm grateful for the skills I've cultivated throughout the years. They're the reason I'm alive, Ukyo-chan, I wouldn't exist without them!"
Realizing how morbid that would have sounded, he added to his reply as smoothly as he could. "Of course, Senku-chan's going to revive everyone, and I'll get to see the world again either way. And that makes me feel safer. But I'm grateful to be a part of rebuilding civilization."
Ukyo's eyes narrowed like he was thinking over Gen's words. He looked like he was going to reply, but it seemed Kohaku had been looking for them. Carrying a bundle of paper, she strode over to them.
"Get up you guys, we're going to see Ruri," she jabbed a thumb toward the main island.
Gen internally sighed with relief and sent her a silent thanks; he didn't feel like steering that conversation back on track.
In this world of superhuman abilities, getting others to do things is really all he's able to do. He was never meant to be the hero, nor did he want to be. He's the bat that should try to play both sides and ultimately end up on none.
So when Kohaku and Ukyo dragged him to the village to help brief Ruri about her duties after they'd set sail, he didn't expect the excited welcome he'd gotten.
"Gen! You're back!" Shovel broke into a grin when she saw him at the bridge, and rushed to the main island, yelling about his arrival. No sooner had she run off than Natri and Alumi came out to greet him. As Gen bowed to them, Alumi took his hands in hers with a gentle smile.
"Welcome home, Gen."
Something shifted in him. Was this a home for him? He felt so young in their presence, under Alumi's warm words and the kind way Natri regarded him. He handled the sudden spotlight with grace, smiling and offering a grateful "thank you for having me", yet he never got through the shock of there being a spotlight in the first place.
"Let's treat you to a meal!"
Believe it or not, he was actually looking forward to eating fish. They did fish around Mori Tower, but the former members of the Tsukasa Empire were more familiar with hunting in the forests.
He let himself be guided towards one of the larger huts along with Kohaku and Ukyo.
The people here were so true to themselves; they wouldn't treat him like this if they didn't see him as someone worth trusting. But he was pretty sure he was well aware of his reputation here. Superficial, turncoat, liar—he'd worked to make sure no one came too close, lest it be known how weak he really was.
However, here they were anyway.
Through all the hot air balloon searches and infrastructure-building, Senku never noticed how happy he was to have his mentalist back.
If he were being honest with himself, a call really wasn't enough. He could hear it in Gen's voice too, with the cheerful shimo shimo he greeted him with, how at the end of the discussion he'd ask Senku if there's anything he could do. It was much easier to get things done when he had him around. Gen's the first person he looks for to show off something new. It could be a habit from when they were the only two depetrified people in the village, but he'd genuinely come to appreciate Gen's point of view. There was something both cynical and hopeful in the questions he brought up and the solutions he thought of. Maybe he just wanted to blow Gen's mind.
Senku made his way to their shared hut, the lightbulb inside glowing strong and guiding him towards it. He wanted to show Gen the first piece of metal he'd machined with their newest lathe. It was their best work yet! Perfect surface finish, or at least as close as you can get to it in the stone world.
He wasn't at all surprised to find Gen in their hut, but he was surprised to see him asleep at his desk. It wasn't like him; he'd always chastise Senku for doing the same. His head rested softly on his arms, which rested on top of some scattered sheets of paper marked with diagrams. He could make out names of different people in the kingdom on those.
So he'd been helping with the crew manifest and how the number of people on board should affect the construction of the ship. He was contented at having trusted Gen with the crew manifest early on.
Gen's work is easy to overlook because it isn't visible—not that he doesn't make himself disappear before it can be seen—but it isn't unseen by Senku. Science, first and foremost, requires people to bring ideas to fruition. It's how their friendship had started, after all. Senku knew what to do, and Gen gave him the means to do it.
But that didn't mean he wanted Gen to work himself to the ground. "Gen, wake up," Senku rubbed his back, coaxing him awake, "your neck will get stiff if you sleep like that."
Senku pushed the disoriented mentalist towards his bedroll in the corner of the room, and pulled the blankets over him once he'd made sure his limbs weren't contorted in a way that would make them ache in the morning.
He could feel a cold coming on.
He would have loved to say that getting sick would've meant he could slack off, but he'd never really felt that way. Maybe it was worse before petrification—he couldn't stop thinking about the people that depended on him, fans that were eager to see him, all the people that helped make his dreams come true. Every minute he spent not working was him falling an inch further behind the world. If you pause for even a second, you are already behind.
There wasn't much he could do when he was sick, but he couldn't let anyone know that. Gen's whole body was trembling, but he needed to do this—it wasn't even close to the work he'd had when the two factions had newly been combined, but doing it in the state he was in was downright painful.
Fuck, he just wanted someone to care for him.
Either way, Gen felt miserable. Most of the Kingdom of Science had switched from their winter outfits to their normal ones with the turn of the season, but he'd kept his because he felt so darn cold all the time. It was a bone-deep cold that wouldn't go away no matter how hard he'd try, but he was burning up under the multiple layers at the same time.
He was so tired, and in the stone world there wasn't much he could do about it at all. Sucking it up was more convenient in the year 2019—he had painkillers, medication, and most of all, peace and quiet and sweet, sweet privacy.
But he still needed to hide it, just like before. If anyone came to know he's defective, he'll be an unoiled part in the machine, he'll be unreliable, they'll turn on him. Despite all his work, tensions have been high after Why-Man, and the Kingdom of Science didn't need a general that was neglecting their duties. Good thing he was really good at hiding.
For someone like him, caring and needing to be loved is weak. And Gen was a weak person.
Gen needed to be useful, because if he wasn't, he'd be left behind. Discarded. It's what everyone did. If he can't be loved, wanted… he'll be needed. Indispensable. He'll carve his worth into this world like one would strike a tool into a mountain to keep them from falling on their climb.
And his skills are more in demand than ever. It's perfect. He's holding their group together—and himself in the process.
Waking with a jerk, Gen immediately found it impossible to breathe through his nose. The room was dark, his head pounded with the kind of headache he knew wasn't going to go away anytime soon, and he instinctively started to look for something to blow his nose with. He felt his bedding for it, the ground, and his discomfort grew and everything felt just so miserable—until someone handed him a scrap of hemp cloth.
Without looking to see who handed it to him, he blew his nose unflatteringly and set it aside, grateful for the person that had read his mind. He felt too sick to do much except gasp for air, so he decided to try to get some sleep—and great, lying down somehow made it harder to breathe. So he propped himself up on his forearms, closing his eyes tightly and waiting for it to go away—until someone pushed a stack of pillows under his head to support it.
The room was dim, illuminated mostly by the daylight seeping in through the tiny space between the closed door and the wall. It was quiet, save for the scratch of charcoal. He'd sensed there were another person or two in the room with him, but he hadn't felt the need to register it until then. All he knew was that it was someone that cared about his comfort.
And as he looked around, he recognized Senku beside him, drawing some kind of schematic on their freshly made batch of paper. He was relieved it was Senku; the man wouldn't give a shit about the state he was in—perfectly composed or snotty as hell.
Senku was saying something, but he couldn't make out the big words. Something about fevers and resting and synthesizing paracetamol. His voice was low and even.
What Senku would care about though was how productive he could be. And he wasn't being very productive right now, nor was he being of any help having to be looked after like this.
How did he end up like this, anyway? Gen made a sound he hoped was grateful, rested his head on the pillows, and tried to remember.
It was around midday; he was collecting… something, but he just couldn't keep himself standing anymore. Maybe dehydration had caught up to him. Or maybe it was the exhaustion. He remembered being conscious but being unable to move a limb because it hurt so badly.
He turned away from Senku, digging the bone of his cheek into the pillows. How'd he be seen as good enough to keep around if he'd collapsed over a cold? Resting was exactly what he'd prescribe to the others… he supposed that would make him look hypocritical. He needed to deflect the attention away from himself, so still facing the wall, he asked: "Senku, why're you here?"
It couldn't be very efficient to have Senku—rather than anyone else—care for him when he's already so busy with everything outside this hut. Senku should be out there, hunting for oil with the exploration team, managing food resources with Francois, overseeing the ship construction with the engineers, going over transportation with the power team… and that's only what Gen could think of off the top of his head.
And then Senku cut off his thoughts. "I need somewhere quiet to work, and I can monitor your condition while I'm at it. It's efficient."
Gen hummed. He was so tired. He couldn't care less about being indirect.
"My head hurts so bad, Senku-chan. I'm so sick. It feels terrible."
He could practically see the gears turning in Senku's head. Was he was about to synthesize paracetamol after all?
"Do you want a head massage?"
"Yeah." The next best thing.
Senku positioned himself beside Gen's stack of pillows. It was silent, more than anything, as he moved the long part of Gen's hair out of the way. His hands rested on the sides of his head.
He massaged his temples and rubbed circles at the base of his skull, worked around his eyebrows and forehead, and firmly pressed into the bridge of his nose. This was nice. Maybe he should complain more.
"Alright Mentalist, my hands ache so that's all you're getting."
Gen felt himself smile at that, and muttered a thanks. He reached for the rag again. After blowing his nose, he closed his eyes tightly and sunk into the pillows with a heavy sigh.
"Gen."
Gen opened one eye and looked at him, waiting. Senku rested his hand on the edge of one of the pillows.
"I want to put your skills to use, but I never said you had to earn being here."
His eyes moved to the wall, away from Senku. "…Do we have to talk about it now?"
Senku shook his head. "Later."
He hummed and turned over. The pain returned after the massage, but he was able to focus on it less.
"You know, I liked that, when you were honest."
"Wanna hear more honest things?"
"Gross, no," Senku cackled.
The night was dark and lonely in the stone world.
The wind had Gen shrinking into his haori. He took his time climbing the thin ladder that went up the storehouse; he didn't want the ladder to creak and disturb Chrome's sleep. He paused for a minute when he reached the top of the ladder, listening for any sounds.
"Just come up already."
The phrase was familiar. It was an echo from a time of war and difficult decisions that definitely did condemn them, but also from the best few months of his life. Now that he thought about it, it's been about a year since then. Since they'd promised to go to hell together.
Hauling himself through the door, he looked around. The observatory had evolved over the past year. There were shelves and bedrolls and a small stock of food and drink—similar to Chrome's storehouse—but it also had maps and schematics taped up against the walls. Senku was expectedly seated at the telescope, but this time he had piles of paper with him. Well, if Senku was still awake, he could keep him company at least.
Senku's voice was low as he spoke into the cold air. "Tell me what you want."
Just like last time, Gen crossed the room, moving towards the telescope. This time, he didn't block Senku's view through the telescope. He didn't have any plans to offer right at this moment and this late at night, just his presence. And he… he was okay with that.
"Can't I keep my favorite scientist company?"
"Sure."
"Do you mind if I take a seat behind you?"
"Nah. Do what you want."
He took a seat behind Senku, leaning against his back. It felt warmer than the autumnal air flowing through the open hatch in the roof. He could feel the small movements of Senku's muscles as he adjusted the telescope. From his pockets, he pulled out a loop of string that he'd been using to teach the kids Cat's Cradle. He wound it around his fingers into the titular position and began playing the game by himself. He found it relaxing—switching between the string figures, twisting them into shapes he'd both learned and created.
Gen was above deck, engaging in some old-fashioned people-watching. The salty wind carried with it a bite of adventure; not that he was enticed by it one millimeter.
Everything had finally cooled down after the heavy workload as they embarked, the bouts of seasickness, and the multiple checks to make sure everything was going smoothly. The power team had already retired to the sleeping quarters. Yet Taiju was still cleaning the deck, and Nikki was getting him to take a break.
"Mentalist."
Gen turned around, only for Senku to sit beside him and extend a bottle of cola in his direction, holding it at the neck. Cola! Ice-cold and fuming with condensation.
"Eh, cola? What's the special occasion, Senku-chan? Want me to smash it against the bow for good luck or something?"
"It's too late for that," Senku cackled, "and you better make it last."
"Is this my last cola?!"
"Who knows? Completely unfamiliar, probably inhabited island," he traces the air in a wide arc with his palm, "we could never come back, or we could come back with a treasure worth more than anyone can imagine."
"Optimistic as ever," Gen lamented. "I can't say treasure doesn't sound appealing, but—maybe this journey's going to do us in before Why-Man does! Was staying in Japan the afest-say option after all?"
Senku clicked his tongue. 'I'm your best option', was what he knew Senku wanted to say.
"I said it earlier, Gen. 'I don't wanna end up in a situation where your skills might end up saving our lives.' The ship's ten billion percent safer because you're on it."
Gen resisted inhaling sharply. "Well, that's reassuring in its own way. It's good to know I have a place on this ship."
"Do you want to be on this ship, Gen?"
That was an absurd question. The ship's bow cut through the water sharply at a speed he couldn't comprehend. "Does it matter? We're surrounded by so much sea that I don't emember-ray which way we came from—"
"Answer the question." Senku rested an arm on the railing and fully turned his head towards him. Gen's gaze remained locked onto the horizon. He felt a strange need to hide his face behind his haori sleeves. Did he want to be on this ship?
"You know," he said slowly, "I can stick around if I keep running my mouth. I wouldn't have gotten on the ship otherwise. There's not really much else I can offer."
The words were dangerous. The airy tone didn't soften how it had sounded. Maybe the bow of the Perseus was cutting him in half, too.
Senku stared at him for what felt like a long time. Red eyes searching for something in his.
"You really think that?"
So they were doing truths now.
"I'm here because I'm an asset, aren't I?"
"So what if you're here for what you can offer? So am I. Doesn't mean we don't have value beyond that."
"That's…" Gen paused. "Yeah, maybe." He closed his eyes and took in a breath. When he exhaled, it came out as a small laugh. "Guess you've got a point."
Gen pushed back against the railing, got to his feet, and stretched. "Guess I'll go get some rest then."
Senku watched him peacefully until he was a quarter of the way to the foremast.
"You never answered the question, damn Mentalist."
Gen only turned around halfway, tilted his head, and smirked.