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Composure has always been a reliable friend to Gen. Even under tremendous pressure, if he’s able to outwardly keep his cool, he can regain control over almost every situation. It’s what allowed him to rocket to fame in his teenage years. It’s kept the Kingdom of Science safe on multiple occasions. A calm face can turn the tides in his favor, even if there’s a spear or a gun aimed at his head.
He’s a professional liar, and a damn good one at that.
So why, when Senku announces to their crew that the trip to the moon will only be one way, does he break so easily?
The door to the lower deck bursts open, and Gen quietly thanks the cosmic forces that no one else is in there to see him storm inside. Senku is hot on his heels, but in a much more infuriatingly calm state.
“Mentalist,” Senku calls after him. “Gen.”
“Damn you,” Gen spits back, whirling around. Every nerve in his body is fried, and though he’s not sure it’s visible, he can feel the tremble in his legs. He’d held it together just fine above deck, though his face betrayed his own horror. Here, he can finally break. “When were you going to tell us? Tell me?”
Senku sighs, running a hand through his unruly hair. As soon as he’d dismissed their meeting, Gen had made a quick exit, overwhelmed and spent. Of course Senku followed, a consequence of always being in each other’s orbit. They can never avoid each other for long.
“I was going to tell you precisely when it was relevant. Which is now.”
“Oh, well thank you very much. I’m so glad you could find it in your busy schedule to let us know that you’re giving up,” Gen sneers. He knows he’s being mean, but with the way the despair inside him is rapidly rising, he’ll take any line of defense he has in his arsenal.
Senku glares. “I’m not giving up, I’m choosing our best option with the time we have. Maybe if we didn’t have some crazy entity threatening our lives, we could take the time to make a return vessel, but that’s not our situation.”
“Since when does that matter to you? You built a cell phone in a stone world in a matter of months!” Gen protests. “So find a way to come back, defy the odds like you always do!”
“It doesn't work like that,” Senku shoots back. “We’re not dealing with basic cell phones and ramen anymore, we’re talking about space travel. If we cut any corners, everyone on that rocket is dead, and our mission dead in the water. I’m being practical about this, why can’t you?”
“Because you’re never practical!” Gen explodes. From the moment Gen learned of Senku’s existence, Senku has been a miracle worker. Tracking the days of his petrification, crafting cola from almost nothing, going head to head with enemy after enemy, Senku has always been on an entirely different level. Seeing him like this, so calm and collected as he surrenders to the difficulty of their situation disturbs Gen like nothing else. He’s supposed to be ridiculous. He’s supposed to suggest something wild, like making a pit stop on Mars, or setting up a moon base, and then gallivanting off into the sunset after they’ve won.
He's supposed to stay by Gen's side.
“Up until now, I’ve gone along with all of your plans. Every single one, no matter how insane,” Gen says, the intensity making his voice shake. “I’ve sailed across the world with you. I’ve risked my life getting captured for you. I’ve even sat by and let you depetrify the man that had us all shot like animals. Why? Because over and over, I’ve trusted you when you say that things would be fine. And for once, I’m drawing the line. You and Ryusui can’t go up there, not until you give me your ‘ten billion percent’ guarantee that you’ll come back down.”
“You know I can’t do that. I can’t even guarantee that with a one way trip.”
Gen scoffs. “Now you choose to be a realist? After everything we’ve been through?”
“Gen,” Senku says, his voice softening. “Ryusui and I have both made peace with it. We’re not dying. Just… delaying our return. We’ll be okay. Someone will bring us back and depetrify us, good as new.”
It occurs to Gen that Senku is trying to comfort him, but it does nothing to make him feel any better. Actually, he hates the way Senku is looking at him right now, all love and no ruthless optimism. With no other solutions coming to mind to suggest, Gen feels like a petulant child who won’t get his way.
“And how old will I be when you do come back? Thirty? Eighty, perhaps?” he asks bitterly. He meets Senku’s eyes, tired and already grieving. “Or will I never get to see you again at all?”
Senku’s eyebrows draw together, and he looks away with a pained look.
Who’s to say how long it will take for civilization to rebuild? Who’s even to say that their space petrification plan will even work? Something always goes wrong. Someone always pays the price, and it’s usually Senku. Knowing his ridiculously self sacrificial nature, he’d probably volunteer to have his statue shattered if it meant the others stood a chance.
Gen is selfish and in love and so scared. He’s sick and tired of Senku making every sacrifice.
“If I knew of a better option, I’d take it,” Senku admits quietly. “But this… this is complicated. We have to act as fast as possible because we have no idea when Why-Man will strike. Saving humanity means we have to make some sacrifices.”
“But what about you?” Gen protests, his voice growing louder with every word. “Why does it always have to be you?! What happens when you guys get back down on the planet, and everyone you know is gone?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Senku snaps. “We can’t afford another mass petrification event!”
“It matters to me!” Gen explodes, marching over to Senku, and shoving him roughly. “It matters to me, dammit! Why can’t you just be selfish for once and stay?! Nobody said you had to be humanity’s savior! Nobody said you have to go kill yourselves just for everyone else’s sake! What about us?”
He keeps shoving Senku, and Senku grasps at his hands and stumbles backwards. Gen can’t see his face through the tears, but he hears a plea in Senku’s voice as he tries to defend against Gen pushing, again and again.
“Gen.”
“Just leave it alone and stay with us! We could live comfortably just as we are. Let someone else take the burden for once, you’ve done enough!”
“Gen.”
Gen is actively crying now, but he doesn’t care. “We won’t have everything we used to, but we could be happy! We could lay low so Why-Man will leave us alone–”
Senku finally gets a good grip on Gen’s hands and yanks him into a tight embrace. Gen writhes and struggles against Senku, protesting with his entire being.
“It’s not fair!” Gen shouts, surprised that Senku possesses such strength to keep Gen from pulling away. He wants to throw anything within arm reach at the walls. He wants to lock all the doors until the rest of the Kingdom of Science to think of a better solution. Anything to keep his friends from throwing their lives away on the moon.
They’ve come so far. They’ve gotten so lucky, even throughout every set back and source of trauma, by all means it shouldn’t have even been possible for the Kingdom of Science to make it as far as they have, but time and time again, they’ve won.
They’re so close to the finish line, close to defeating Why Man, close to bringing the world back to life and building it on new foundations. Yet Ryusui and Senku have already thrown in the towel and made a decision Gen never remembers agreeing to. And even as Gen begs and shouts and argues, Senku still won’t listen.
He’s not going to listen. Gen is fighting a losing battle.
Just as quickly as it came, the fire in Gen dims as despair starts to overcome him, and he stops fighting.
“It’s not fair,” he repeats with a whisper, letting himself be pulled in close. He gasps out another sob, making the front of Senku’s tunic wet with tears. “You’re a genius. Think of something.”
Gen feels Senku lay his head down on the top of his head. Maybe under normal circumstances, Gen would celebrate the sensation, with the both of them having danced around their feelings for multiple years. There was an unspoken promise between them to not make any big steps until their mission was behind them, but that all seems stupid now. Gen doesn’t relish in the sensation of Senku embracing him, not with the newfound knowledge that he’d taken their time together for granted.
“You won’t have to wait until you’re eighty,” Senku murmurs with an airy chuckle, bringing one of his hands up to cradle the back of Gen’s neck. “If I know anything, it’s that the Kingdom of Science has the world’s greatest mentalist on its side. One that could easily bring the whole world together for one epic space mission to bring us back in no time. You won’t be alone, either. I’m ten billion percent sure everyone in our little family will make sure we’ll come back.”
Gen shakes his head silently, letting more tears fall. How are they supposed to pull that off with their fearless leaders gone? Gen couldn’t possibly fill those shoes. He’d never have the intelligence of Senku, the fearlessness of Ryusui, or the strength of their warriors.
But he does have love. So much that it threatens to swallow him whole. The Kingdom of Science, and the rest of the world for that matter, may not rally around Gen, but they would rally around the love they have for each other. They’d refuse to rest in a world without their family complete. Gen knows this for certain.
He has the others too. Chrome, Suika, Ukyo, Kohaku, even Xeno possess the resolve and intelligence to bring them back. Gen could easily organize them, direct the Kingdom of Science with the appropriate brains behind his operations.
Still, the thought of even just a few years passing without Senku makes Gen’s stomach drop. He’s grown comfortable in his place by Senku’s side. He doesn’t want to keep looking over his shoulder expecting the scientist to be there only to be met with grief.
He wants as much of his life to be filled with quiet moments in the lab and putting on a show around the bonfire with his friends. He wants a lifetime more of wordless conversations and devious scheming together. He wants so much.
More than anything, he doesn’t want to rebuild a world without Senku. He should get to see humanity spring back with his own eyes. He should be able to see the untold millions he’ll save. He should have a soft place to land, and Gen is nothing if not desperate to be that.
“There has to be another way,” he sighs, slowly wrapping his arms around Senku’s waist, taking in the warmth, the contact, the sound of Senku’s heartbeat while he still can. Damn them both for having so much caution until now.
“If there is one that’s feasible, we’ll redirect,” Senku assures him. “There are plenty of brains behind this operation, after all. But we can’t afford to wait for another way to come along on its own.”
“I know,” Gen says. “I know, Senku. I get that this is the most logical route, and it’s for the greater good, and that we’re running out of time, but…” he trails off, not knowing exactly how to say it. Gen has already recovered somewhat, and there really is no tactful and casual way to say ‘I don’t know how to live without you’. So he lets the silence sit.
Senku pulls back and for once, there’s no confident grin on his face, just a pensive frown and red eyes charged with empathy.
“I understand,” Senku says. “I’m not exactly excited myself. I…” he cuts himself off, seeming to consider his words very carefully before he speaks again. “I’d never leave you if I wasn’t sure it was the only choice. Not in a million years. I’m sorry, Gen.”
Gen’s face crumples again, the pain in his chest agonizing. Being shot by Stanley’s soldiers was more tolerable than this. At least then, he knew they’d be okay in the end.
“I really can’t stop you, can I?” he admits as more tears roll down his cheeks. Nonetheless, he tries for a teasing smile, for that idiotic, unwavering optimism Senku puts on display. “You just can’t let anyone else have the glory of saving the world.”
A smile breaks out on Senku’s face, beautiful and sad and playful, the way that Senku always has been.
“I put my name on everything, Mentalist. I never said I didn’t have an ego.”
That makes Gen laugh a little, and then cry a little as Senku holds his face in his hands. The kiss he presses to Gen’s lips is brief and chaste, but it’s enough. It’s everything.
“Are you still in?” Senku asks. It’s an out, a rare one that Senku has never really given him before. Even when they first set sail on the Perseus and announced that no one unwilling should come aboard, Ryusui and Senku had been insistent that Gen come too. They weren’t wrong in doing so, and certainly wouldn’t force the issue if Gen had dug his heels in the sand, but they’d both known him well enough to know not to worry about that.
There’s a very faint trace of uncertainty in Senku’s voice here, unlike how it had been back then. The truth is that Senku would never force Gen into doing something he really didn’t want to do. And though Gen really doesn’t want to assist in abandoning Senku and Ryusui on the moon, the simple fact of the matter is that there’s nowhere Senku can go that Gen won’t follow.
“Do you even have to ask?” Gen says in place of an answer. He makes a show of a resigned sigh, but the smile he gives to Senku is real.
I’m here. To the bitter end, I’m here.