Archive of Our Own

Senku has never regretted a choice this much in his life. Genuinely.

The idea of spending the next several hours bundled in a suit, shirt buttoned all the way up and bowtie around his neck has him physically hurting. He curses the day he agreed with Byakuya’s idea:

“Come with us Senku! It is a prime opportunity for you to meet all my colleagues from the launch and more!” His father exclaims, phone in hand where the text ‘Jaxa invites you to “Soyuz Grand Gala”’ invitation could be seen, “I will be there and so will Lillian! It’s gonna be fun!”

Senku considers the man’s words: going to the party would allow him to obtain extremely useful connections, meeting extremely important people and giving him the chance to collect useful data, at the single cost of having to spend the night wearing uncomfortable clothes and having even more uncomfortable conversations with rich, pompous people.

He weighs the pros and cons, quickly concluding that the man is right: it is an incredible opportunity.

“Ugh,” he says, “guess I will have to suck it up then.”

And sucking it up he is: he is already done with the night and they haven't even reached the location yet; he puts his head in his hands, exasperated.

Byakuya gives him an amused glance from the driver seat where he is driving their car into the metropoly’s outskirts, “C’mon son, it’s gonna be fine! We’ll have some nice food, dance to some music and drink something fancy! Think of it as a big party!” The man all but sings-sangs, voice light as the car pulls in the parking lot, giving them the full view of the beautiful venue.

The Gala is being held in the Saitama prefecture in Tokyo, close to Jaxa’s observation center, in a beautiful Villa with a huge garden surrounded by a tall hedge fence, its parking lot adorned by colorful flower beds and exotic trees.

Stepping out of the car, Senku can see various men and women entering the building, all dressed in elegant clothes, clearly showing off their wealth; the boy absent mindedly fixes his jacket where it had crumpled from sitting during the ride, pulling at his bow tie to set it more comfortably around his neck as his father joins him at his side.

“You look good son, don’t worry, Yuzuriha-chan did a wonderful job.” The man reassures him, mistakenly assuming his son’s fidgeting is due to the high-profile atmosphere.

It isn’t, yet Senku doesn’t correct him, mentally agreeing with the man: when he had told his two friends he was going to the fancy Gala, Yuzuriha’s eyes had gone so wide in excitement Senku swears he had seen stars dancing in them, “Please Senku, allow me to make you a suit for the occasion!"

She had outdone herself, tailoring the fabric to his body like a glove, a beautiful outfit complete with trousers, shirt, vest and jacket: the set was made of a fine deep red colored cloth the same shade of his eyes, while the dark green vest created a striking contrast, the fabric embroidered with a subtle geometrical pattern; the rest of the look was being balanced by a classic white shirt and bowtie and a pair of dark brown leather dress shoes at his feet.

There was a thin silver chain dangling from his vest where his father’s old pocket watch rested inside: it was something the man had gifted him when he had turned seventeen, a family heirloom the boy had inherited and that he cherishes a lot, paired to a set of matching silver wrist cufflinks in the shape of two little rockets Lillian had gifted him on the same birthday, months prior.

Senku’s hair had been tied in an elegant half bun, a couple of wild strands falling in front of his eyes giving him a youthful but poised look.

He fits in perfectly.

He wants to leave so badly.

The boy sighs as his father, in his dark blue suit, black shoes and chunky wrist-watch, gently guides him towards the entrance.

Well, Senku thinks, walking through the huge front doors, time to suffer.

Senku is bored.

He has to admit, at least to himself, that the whole experience hasn’t been as bad as he had feared so far but now everything has slowed down to a borderline brain-numbing pace, so he finds himself retracing the night’s events to pass the time:

After entering the venue the two of them had been welcomed by a valet who had grabbed their wallets, phones and keys to put them in a safe before guiding them through marbled floor rooms, decorated with huge chandeliers and floor to ceiling curtains, to their table, one of the many ones there, round and covered in the finest silky white tablecloths; outside was a flowering Italian-style garden with fancy fountains and white cobblestone paths.

They had awkwardly stood there for a while before getting approached by the Nikitin couple who Byakuya introduced to his son: Yakov was wearing a simple dark grey suit while his wife, Darya, was showing off a beautiful dark purple, long dress with flowy tulle sleeves, her high heels making her stand a few centimeters over her husband.

When they noticed Shamil and Connie lingering at the entrance a few minutes later they had waved them over: the man donned in a fashionable total-white suit while the woman was wearing a burgundy elegant dress, an articulate golden hairpin keeping her usually braided hair up in a fancy bun.

They had spent quite a while talking, the group of astronauts being surprised by Senku’s brilliance and ability to keep up with their difficult topics of conversation, Yakov amicably patting him on the shoulder while the two women smiled, impressed.

Senku had blushed when Shamil had complimented the ramen recipe the boy had made for his father’s travel in space, the blond man throwing him a knowing look when Byakuya had pulled his son closer to him in a fatherly-affectionate side hug.

At some point food had been brought out and the six of them had seated at their table and enjoyed the first round of buffet, the empty chair reminding them of the absence of one last person.

The star of the evening hadn’t arrived yet, after all.

The astronauts had left at some point to go to speak with other people and Senku had stuck to his father as the man chatted with different guests, all while his son followed him silently.

So here he is now, tuning out a loud conversation between Byakuya and two other men, wishing he had his phone with him so he could at least occupy his hands somehow.

A strong pat on his shoulder breaks him out of his thoughts and he dutifully gives a little parting bow to the two strangers before his father circles his shoulder with his arms, “Dear son of mine, you could at least pretend to participate in the conversation…” the man scolds him, but there is no actual bite in his tone, just a small exasperated smile on his face.

Senku crosses his arms, “Those two were just accounting representatives, they are of no interest to me; actually, aside from your colleagues, few people here are.”

The Gala’s guests weren’t all scientists and geniuses since the party itself was a roundabout fancy way for Jaxa to acquire new investors, so a few public figures and celebrities could be seen roaming around, striking up tactical conversations with each other.

Senku sees his father open his mouth to rebut– when a few rising voices catch their attention: they turn, noticing a commotion at the entrance, a woman standing in the middle of the crowd.

She is gorgeous, wearing an elegant dark blue designer dress completely covered in sparkly micro gem stones, her beautiful long blonde hair styled in a sophisticated hairdo, with diamond jewelry adorning her face and high heels highlighting her slender figure as she enters the ballroom.

Father and son step closer to the woman who is now waving at a few people and politely dodging some others before stopping in front of them, seemingly casually; Senku elbows his father in the side: the man’s face has slacked into a lovestrucked expression at sight of her and the boy quickly tries to make him stop before others could notice.

Byakuya and Lillian have been together for a while now and the young Ishigami obviously knows, but the couple had not gone public yet, so they had to act normally, professionally, at such a big event like tonight.

If anyone were to find out famous pop singer LIllian Weinberg is in a relationship, the public will go wild.

But, considering who we are talking about, Senku is sure someone will pick up on the lingering affections, especially from his father’s side: the man is so expressive he is basically an open book.

“Byakuya, good evening,” the woman says in English, ”how nice it is to see you here; I have a bit of time before the evening meetings, do you mind if we have a little chat?” Her expression is polite and professional but Senku can see how her smile has grown a bit warmer, a bit more real, at the sight of them.

”Lillian, hello to you too! That would be amazing!” His father greets back; his accent has improved a lot, his English much more flowy now, though his Japanese heritance is still clear in the way he pronounces some letters.

Senku can feel people staring and he internally cringes: while Lillian and Byakuya were exchanging greetings, a crowd had formed around them, people busying themselves in idle chats but standing close by, clearly waiting for the moment the secret couple’s conversation breaks so they can try to get the famous singer’s attention to themselves.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and the boy tunes back in, ”And this is my son Senku, the one I talked to you about!” Byakuya says and the young man dutifully presents his hand to Lillian who takes it in a polite shake.

Senku had already met the pop star, of course, but tonight was the night where he did so publicly, allowing them to create a plausible future excuse if the three of them were to ever be seen together: fulfilling the promise the singer had made while in space.

This whole skit was another reason why Senku joined them tonight, a mere excuse his father had used to drag him here, the boy is sure; they actually had to rehearse it a few times in the Ishigami’s living room to make sure the two men knew what to do and did not fumble the whole plan.

”It is an honor to meet you, Miss Weinberg, my father has told me a great lot about you.” Senku’s own English is very good, though his accent is thicker than his father’s, clear proof that the boy had learned it more by reading and studying rather than from active use.

Lillian shakes his hand demurely, ”I’ve heard a lot about you too Senku and I couldn’t wait to meet the amazing boy Byakuya always talks about! Tell me, is it the truth that the tasty ramen we had on the Soyuz was your creation?” 

Like Shamil, Lillian had genuinely enjoyed the meal the boy had invented and her praise was sincere: she had told him the same thing the first time they had met.

He nods, retracting his hand and putting it in his pocket, “It was, thank you for your kind words. My father told me you liked it, I’m glad.”

“Oh, liked it she did my dear son! She enjoyed it so much she got seconds!” Byakuya suddenly cuts in, earning himself a bashful light slap on his shoulder from the now blushing singer.

“Byakuya, please!” She says, her cheeks tinted pink as she casts her eyes down, sheepish.

Senku blinks at her performance: he knows she is a professional but he is still surprised by how good she is at acting; as someone who can’t tell a lie to save his life, he is impressed.

“Aw, c’mon Lillian, it’s fine! I got seconds too!” His father goes on before he adds, grinning, “Actually Senku, Lillian liked it so much she offered to do something for you as a thank you, son! She has a surprise!” The man continues, voice loud, catching the attention of the surrounding crowd, people listening in while acting as if they weren’t spying on their conversation.

It’s fine, though: this is exactly what they wanted.

“That is right Senku!” Lillian smiles, "Being on the IIS had been an amazing experience but it had also been alienating for someone like me who is not used to it! I was a bit home— or, well— Earth-sick, so the yummy ramen Byakuya shared with us made the stay easier!” She claps her hands in front of her, her eyes narrowed by a wide, bright smile as she delivers the final blow, “So, as a thank you, I would like to sing for you in a one-on-one performance!”

A few people around them murmur after hearing her words, whispers of incredulity and envy. 

Good, the plan is working.

Senku is about to answer like they rehearsed, ready to politely refuse before accepting later on, his eye twitching at the absurdity of their skit, when a booming voice cuts him off:

“A private performance from Miss Lillian Weinberg, how wonderful! Ah-ah! I desire it!”

They turn as the crowd parts, allowing a blond man to step closer: he must be older than the young scientist but definitely younger than Lillian.

In his early to mid twenties at max, Senku estimates.

He is wearing a designer sea-blue suit, clearly tailored, his long hair stylishly arranged; on his wrist, Senku notices a golden, flashy watch, matched to shirt cufflinks and a couple hoop earrings. 

“Please, forgive my interruption but I couldn’t help but listen to your conversation, Miss Weinberg, gentlemen.” The stranger says, snapping his fingers before confidently raising his hand to shake towards the woman, while a blonde short server follows quietly behind him, their golden curly hair swaying as they walk.

Senku and Byakuya are both momentarily lost after being interrupted but luckily Lillian, thanks to years of media training, recovers quickly, going for the handshake, “No need to apologize! It’s actually our fault for having such a loud conversation here in the hall, sir…?” She trails off, indirectly asking the man’s name.

She startles when the blond man grabs her hand and kneels, kissing the back of her palm in a curtsey.

Senku blinks. What the actual fuck did he just witness.

The stranger stands again, “The name is Ryusui Nanami, Miss Weinberg. It is an honor to have you as a guest and an even bigger honor to be your escort for tonight! ” He then turns towards Byakuya who has been dumbfoundedly watching the scene, “You, sir, must be Ishigami Byakuya! It’s a pleasure to meet a national hero!”

The older man hesitantly shakes the blond’s hand, scratching the back of his neck, “That would be me, yes! You said your name is Ryusui Nanami, right? So that means…” Byakuya’s face goes slack, dumbstruck, as he realizes who is in front of him.

Senku’s own eyes widen in recognition: Ryusui Nanami. Nanami. As in Nanami Conglomerate, the richest family in the whole country and one of the richest in the whole world.

Byakuya stumbles on his next words, “T-Thank you for the hospitality, Nanami-san! We are thankful to be your guests!”

Ryusui just shakes Byakuya’s hand more vehemently, “No need, no need, mister! It is my pleasure to have you in our humble abode! Not many people get the privilege to host for Miss Lillian Weinberg and the whole Soyuz’s crew! Ah-ah! This is thrilling!” He snaps his fingers a second time.

A tell, the young scientist assumes.

Now that he thinks about it, Senku remembers the Villa they are in right now is one of the Nanami Conglomerates’ many estates: he knows the financial group is one of Jaxa’s biggest investors, owning a few of their buildings and promoting the majority of their works, so it makes sense that Jaxa’s Galas are being held in one of their residences.

Then, the blond man turns towards the Senku, taking him in for the first time since he got here, eyes widening slightly in surprise when he notices his odd colored ones, gaze rising to the boy’s pale hair, and the teen clearly sees as the realization clicks in Ryusui’s brain.

Senku braces himself for the fateful question but the blond just trusts his hand towards him, a grin on his face as he asks, “And you are?”

Senku feels his father pat his shoulder, “This is my son Senku, Nanami-san!” Byakuya says while the young scientist dutifully accepts the handshake.

 “Ah-ah!I heard that you had a son, Ishigami-san, but I had no idea he was so strikingly handsome! Tell me Senku, have you ever considered getting into modeling?” The man says excitedly, but his enthusiasm dims at the young scientist's reaction.

Senku has no idea what his face looks like right now but by Byakuya loud bark of laughter and Lillian’s muffled giggles he guesses it’s not a happy one.

Ryusui puts his hands on his hips, “Not a fan of the idea, uh? A real pity, because you’d have a future in it, dude…” he says, looking at the boy up and down, and Senku feels his skin crawl: he has a feeling this is a man who usually gets what he wants and that won't desist easily.

“I’m sorry, Nanami-san, but my boy is not interested in anything other than science!” Byakuya interjacks, sensing his son’s discomfort and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “You can ask him anything about space and physics and he’ll rant about it for hours, but ask about fashion or gossip and he’ll just scoff confused and leave you standing there!” The man finishes, cackling.

The rest of the group laughs too while Senku huffs, crossing his arms in indignation, mumbling his dissent; Byakuya is not wrong, but he is also not right: Senku is best friends with a fashion designer, after all, and in all these years of friendship he has learnt a thing or two about the fashion world, thank you very much.

Just don’t expect him to know what is in right now: fashion is too volatile, with no real rules behind it, and learning about it is just a waste of his brain’s memory-capability. 

He tells them so.

“Also, why would it matter or make a difference?” He crosses his arms again, “As long as you don’t have your bits showing, who cares what you wear? Any cloth will do.” He finishes his heartfelt ramble.

“Ah, but that is such a oring-bay way to see the world, dear! Clothes, hair, make-up, accessories have always been a way for humans to communicate with one another! You can tell so much from how one presents themselves…” a new voice chimes in, getting their attention.

While the four of them had been talking the crowd had dissipated, their interest not lost but now directed towards the food that had been brought out in the meantime, so the group (plus the blonde server, who had been introduced as Francois by Ryusui and who had just been standing there waiting) had moved away from the entrance towards a more reserved corner of the room, a strategic place where they could easily observe the ball room and see whoever were to approach or listen in.

They hadn’t noticed someone getting closer, so they all startled at the new person’s voice.

The man standing there, Senku thinks, must be a few years older than himself but probably younger than Ryusui: he has dark, black hair cut in an asymmetrical haircut, one of his side bangs noticeably longer than the other, framing his youthful face, with smooth white skin and a small button nose.

His lips are curved in a polite smile, shiny with some type of gloss, his stubby, short brows tilted in an affable expression and his eyes… 

His eyes are striking: highlighted by some subtle make up, they shine in the room's lights, dancing between a silvery grey and a deep, cold blue, smart and cunning. 

The color, the young scientist thinks, reminds him of a shallow lake in winter, the surface reflecting the white snow around it and preventing you from seeing what lies inside.

Senku knows these eyes.  

“Please,” those glossy lips part, “forgive my rude interruption but I couldn’t stop myself after hearing such azy-cray words— no offence, dear!” The new man says, demurely covering his mouth with his hands as a smile tilts his lips.

Even if his words were directed at Senku he is not looking at him, his gaze is fixated on Ryusui; then, his eyes squint into a sly smile, “After all,” he continues, “clothes tell you a lot about status and character, do they not?” He gestures towards the blond, “For xample-ey, they tell me you have incredible fashion taste, mister!” He lets out a light, dainty giggle.

Ryusui barks a loud laugh, clearly flattered by the young man’s words, “Ah-ah! You have a good eye my friend! This suit had been made for this party, made to match the venue! After all, I had to represent my family tonight!” He smirks, straightening up to better show off his outfit.

The stranger’s eyes widen in surprise as he brings a hand to his chest, ”Oh my, wouldn’t that mean you are Nanami Ryusui? How rude of me! Please forgive my straightforwardness sir, the party’s atmosphere must have gone to my head!” He gives a bow to the group, his cheeks reddening as his face sets in a sheepish expression at the realization of who the man in front of him is.

Ryusui waves him off with a smile, ready to reassure him, but the boy goes on, “I can’t believe I had the chance to join such a delightful party, this place is wonderful! If representing the family and estate was your goal, I feel like you totally succeeded sir! Maybe that’s the reason I have been drawn to your handsome presence, Nanami-san~”

Ryusui laughs again, bright and deep, while the rest of the group chuckle at the two’s antics, endeared by the boy’s fumbled presentation.

Senku doesn’t laugh, though.

He squints his eyes, observing the black haired man with a vague sense of annoyance: the words might have been spoken with warm delight but they were hollow, empty of real emotion.

Fake.

“As if you didn’t already know who this guy was,” Senku barks, crossing his arms on his chest, voice flat and annoyed, “didn’t you, magician?”

The laughter dies and an uncomfortable silence stretch after his snarky remark, the group's smiling faces tightening awkwardly.

The mysterious man turns to look at him: his face and body language look unfazed, even after such rude words, his smile still wide on his face, but his eyes thin as he tilts his head, “Oh my, my! I had no idea I was talking to a an-fay~” he sing-sangs, bright and delighted.

His eyes, though, don’t share the same warmth, looking straight into Senku’s, cold and assessing.

Senku feels a shiver run up his spine.

“That’s why I felt like I knew you from somewhere!” Byakuya exclaims, breaking the tension and bumping his fist in his hand in realization, “You are Asagiri Gen! Oh, what a pleasure it is to meet you! I’m Ishigami Byakuya.” He grabs the young man’s hand in both of his own and vehemently shakes it.

He then turns towards the singer, “This is the magician I told you about, Lillian! He is phenomenal, really! Tell me Asagiri-san, how does the sword-box trick truly work? It’s incredible how you manage to fit inside that small place!”

The magician’s whole body sways due to Byakuya’s enthusiastic handshake, the boy’s smile  turning awkward every second more at the way he is being handled.

“O-Oh wow, thank you very much for the praise sir! And as for my trick, I do it thanks to agic-may of course~”

A scoff cuts him off, “What are you blabbering about, it’s all a matter of physics and a bit of elasticity. Magic doesn’t exist.” The young scientist puffs, crossing his arms in front of his ches,t annoyed.

Byakuya’s face falls for a brief second as he lets out a sigh, “Senku…” he chastises, and the boy stills before looking away, red tinting his cheeks at being reprimanded in front of people.

As true as his words might be, he knows sometimes the truth is not the most opportune thing to say.

Asagiri looks weirdly amused, “Don’t worry Ishigami-san, dealing with harsh critics is part of the job, after all!” He smiles at Senku, “Also, I feel like you know quite a lot about my performances dear, could it be that you actually enjoy magic~?”

Senku’s face scrunches up in disgust, earlier embarrassment instantly evaporating at the mere suggestion, “I’m not even a millimeter interested in bogus tricks and circus shows.” The boy deadpans, trying to convey all of his distaste, but his words seem to have the opposite effect since Asagiri only smiles wider.

Senku stills, body going tense at the unexpected reaction: he has the feeling he won’t like whatever is going to come out of the other’s mouth.

“And yet,” those shiny lips say, “you recognized me straight away; are you sure you are not a fan of mine, Senku-chan~?”

Senku’s face flames.

“I- You- Wha—” the boy stutters, his usually fast-as-light brain blue-screening at Asagiri’s blatant tease, the young scientist’s face going through all five stages of grief in mortification.

Everybody bursts out laughing, from Ryusui and Byakuya’s loud barks to Lillian's muffled giggles; even Francois’ eyes glimmer in mirth at the sight of Senku’s bright red ears.

Asagiri Gen looks absolutely delighted.

“O-of course I recognized you!” Senku all but screeches, his usual composure breaking as he points a finger at the magician’s smug expression, “It’s hard to forget a face like yours!”

For some reason, that only makes the others laugh harder.

Senku’s blush deepens after catching the implication of his own words, “I meant his haircut! His hair makes him look like a videogame mage! Like— all mystical and stuff, that’s why it stuck!” He fumbles, trying to make himself heard among the laughter.

Asagiri tilts his head, letting said long bangs sway with the motion, “My, my! Aren’t you a charmer, Senku dear~”

Suddenly, his smile turns into a downright evil grin, “Wouldn’t you be implying that my hair is a functional yet strategic way to ortray-pay my profession, character and interests, would you? Because that would mean that you actually agree with me!” He finishes, voice high and dainty.

Senku stills completely, momentarily lost before remembering his earlier words, the ones that caught the magician's attention in the first place.

Could it be, he wonders, dumbfounded, that he has been doing all this to prove a point!?

The others snicker, clearly amused by their bickering, and Asagiri looks absolutely smug, hands demurely clasped together in front of his body as he gives Senku the most innocent smile he has ever seen in his life: the young scientist can almost see little flowers dancing around the other’s head.

Senku has the feeling of having just lost a challenge he didn’t even know he had partaken in.

“I think the guy is right, don't you, son?” His father laughs, patting Senku’s shoulder in amused comfort, while the boy only mumbles his disappointment, crossing his arms and downright pouting.

Luckily for Senku he is saved from further embarrassing himself by Francois, the server, who suddenly steps closer, “I apologize for the interruption of such delightful moment Ryusui-sama, Weinberg-sama, but I fear it’s time for you to go back now; there are still many guests you have to meet before the night ends.” They say, before bringing a hand to their chest and bowing, “Gentlemen, it’s been an honor meeting you all.” 

“Ah-ah! That’s right, Francois!” The blond snaps his fingers again,”This has been extremely pleasant, but I fear it is time for us to leave; everybody, make sure to enjoy the party to your hearts’ content! Now Miss Weinberg, please follow us.”

Lillian gives a dainty laugh, “But of course, Mr. Nanami,” then she turns towards the others, “I’ll see you around, Byakuya, Senku. Have a nice evening Mr. Asagiri.” She departs, giving them a little wave before following Ryusui and Francois and disappearing into the crowd.

Senku sees his father follow her with his gaze and lets out an exasperated, soft huff: his old man sure is smitten.

He is about to call his name when something catches his eye: at his father’s side, Asagiri is looking at the way the man is observing the retreating woman; the magician’s face shows nothing but Senku notices the way he curiously eyes the couple, eyes darting from man to woman before widening imperceptively.

Fuck.

“L-let’s go now, Byakuya!” Senku stammers, catching his father's attention, “There’s new food out, let’s go eat.”

“Alright, alright son! Let’s go enjoy ourselves now!” The man exclaims, pumping his fists in the air, “It’s been an honor Asagiri-san, hope to catch you again!” He pats the magician on the shoulder amicably and the young man gives him a polite bow, “It’s my pleasure, Ishigami-san, have a good evening.”

Byakuya chuckles before grabbing his son’s shoulder to hunch him closer, “Now, now Senku, say goodbye!”

The boy’s ears have gone red again due to his father’s embarrassing display and Asagiri’s knowing, teasing smirk, but he pushes through, eager to put an end to this whole conversation as soon as possible, “Bye,” he deadpans, before stepping away, “let’s go now Byakuya.” He doesn’t wait for the man as he starts heading back to their table while his father whines to wait for him.

With his back turned, Senku misses the way Asagiri’s eyes follow his retreating back, as he also misses the way the magician’s polite smile turns cunning as he answers in a soft breath, “Mmmh, anytime, Senku-chan, anytime~”

Senku is bored. Again.

He and Byakuya had finished eating a while ago and the man had decided to go around to chat with people, inviting his son to join him, but Senku, who was already done with the night, had refused, insisting on just staying at their table until the night’s end.

So here he is now, sitting on the comfortable chair and bored out of his mind.

He had ran out of ways to pass time a while ago and he’s now just letting his gaze roam the room, looking for something, anything to make the wait less tedious; he’s about to give up and go back calculating the overall volume of the hall– when something catches his attention: there’s someone lingering in one of the corners of the ballroom, suspiciously lurking around the tables with swift movements.

He pauses.

Uh. Can’t believe I’m really considering this…

He looks around, hoping to find someone, anyone else to seize his attention, but his curiosity has been completely, irrefutably piqued and he can’t ignore the itch in his brain that he needs to be scratched right now.

Well, he thinks, whatever: better than staying here. 

He stands up.

“What are you doing hiding here all alone? Are you scheming something mischievous again?”

Asagiri jumps at his words, clearly not having noticed his approach; he turns, smiling slyly as he realizes who it is, “Mmh, who knows? Are you interested in joining me, Senku-chan?”

Senku tskes, “As if, I just saw you lurking around and got curious.” He steps next to him, trying to figure out who the magician was looking at: they are alone here in the corner of the room, a strategic point where they can easily observe the hall without being seen.

Hidden in plain sight.

Damn, Senku thinks, this guy is good.

“Oh? Are perhaps trying to assess who my next target is gonna be based on their looks? What an interesting-yay approach, Senku-chan~” he sings-sangs, clearly referring to their earlier argument.

Senku huffs, “You really enjoy getting a rise out of people, don’t you?” He says crossing his arms, “I asked because I’m bored, so quit being all mysterious and just tell me.”

Asagiri tuts, tapping a finger on his lips, eyes filled with mirth, “I see, so how about we play a little ame-gay, would that keep you entertained for a while, Senku-chan? Then,” he adds before Senku can answer, “how about we pick someone from the crowd and try to figure out who they are only from their looks, mmh? Think of it as a little guessing game!”

Senku blinks, actually kinda of intrigued by the idea: it’s definitely better than whatever he was doing before.

“So, basically using visual data to make an estimation on someone's character… all right, sure. Just make sure not to cheat, you trickster magician, or the game’s over.”

Gen brings a hand to his chest in mock offence, “Cheating!? Moi? How could you ay-say something so hurtful! Are you heartless!?”

Senku just raises an unpressed eyebrow at him.

“All right, all right, Senku-chan, no need to orry-way, I’ll play fair~” the mentalist grins mischievously, “To make the game more interesting-yay, how about we turn it into a little challenge:

Science versus mentalism!”

Senku smirks, “You are on, you bogus magician!” He says haughtily, and Asagiri gives him a smirk of his own, “Go ahead then, Senku-chan, pick omeone-say!”

Senku looks around the crowd, “That woman.” He points to a blonde in a red dress who is looking through the buffet options and Asagiri nods before clapping his hands together, “Alright, let’s see what you can do, Senku-chan!”

The younger boy looks at the unknown woman who has grabbed some food and is now standing next to a couple of men, joining their conversation.

“She is a foreigner of course, given her facial traits and hair, supposedly american but she could also be european since I can’t hear her accent.” He frowns, “I don’t recognize her, so I don’t think she is a scientist or, if she is, not a famous one, though she must be either rich or influential enough to be invited.”

He nods to himself, “My guess is a foreigner woman in her 30s, average height and weight,  married, with no personal connection to Jaxa’s work.”

Next to him, Asagire gives a little cheer, “Not bad for your first time Senku-chan, you got a couple of things right! You missed a few ones though…” 

Senku turns towards him confused, “Uh? What do you mean?”

Asagiri grins, “Want to hear my guess now?” He says, tilting his head and leaning towards the other complicitly, which prompts a perplexed look on Senku’s face as the younger boy gestures to him to go ahead.

“She is an Italian woman, upposedly-say named Marta, married to a French man, is lactose intolerant and probably has a son!”

Senku’s jaw drops.

“How could you tell all that?! Did you already know who she was? You said you would have played fair!” Senku scowls, mood souring at having been cheated; he takes a step to leave but a hand grabs his arm.

“Now Senku-chan, will you just accuse me like at-thay and not let me explain myself?” Asagiri stops him, before retreating his hand and hiding it back in his sleeve, “Don’t you want to know how I did it?”

Senku stares at him, searching for any sign of deceit, but the magician just looks back at him expectantly.

He steps back again with a huff, “Tell me, then.”

Gen smiles, “You were right, she is a foreigner and I got her name thanks to her necklace,” and there is the proof, the golden accessory innocently resting around her neck; Senku can’t really see the details but, now that the mentalist brought it up, he realizes that the necklace does in fact spell something.

That’s tacky as hell, the boy thinks.

Asagiri goes on, “Marta is the Italian version of the name Martha, as you might have guessed; it could have been the name of a daughter, but considering her tattoo I don’t think that’s the case.” He adds, referring to the fine lined tattoo on her arm adorned by two different sized hearts.

“I believe Hugo is the name of her son,” he scratches his head, “though it could also be a dog, who knows nowadays…" he laughs.

Senku looks at him, frowning, “And what about the rest?”

Asagiri tuts, “C’mon Senku-chan, did you even look at her? At the buffet, she went straight for the Italian little pizzas there, but she removed the cheese on top: mozzarella is errible-tay for you if you are lactose intolerant, after all.”

He frowns, considering, “Sure, she might have been a picky eater and just not like cheese, but she had some of the parmesan fondue, a very strong-flavoured cheese which, coincidentally, is naturally lactose free!” He smiles, proud of himself.

Senku looks at him weird, “...Why the hell do you know so much about cheese?”

The magician hums, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Senku-chan~”

Senku rolls his eyes at him but there is an amused grin on his face.

Asagiri points his finger to the man next to the woman, “That man is her partner, I can tell by his neck tie which matches her dress' shade perfectly, a common thing couples do at galas or ceremonies, but what really sold it was the man’s tattoo.” he explains, murmuring something about foreigners and their tattoo obsession.

Gen turns fully towards him, “I’m actually surprised you missed that Senku-chan, I assumed your observation skills were better than this.” He innocently tilts his head.

Senku frowns, squinting in the unknown man’s direction, pouting “...I can’t see that far. You must have really good eyesight to be able to read that.” Asagiri blinks, “...I see; how about I tell you what it says, then, so we can play more fairly? It spells J-E…”

Senku frowns, “‘Je t’aime, Marta’, uh? Well that’s her name for sure then,” he scratches his head, “I don’t know what the first half means, though.”

“That’s french for ‘I love you’, Senku-chan.”

“Ah,” Senku deadpans, “that does explain the partner thing then, yes; I did notice the ring on her finger earlier but you are right, that is enough to conclude that’s her husband.”

The boy turns toward the magician, “You know French, then?”

“Pin-pon~!” Asagiri winks at him, “I am a man of many talents after all, Senku-chan!”

“Many talents my ass…” the young scientist laughs, observing as the married couple they were spying on share a chaste kiss, “...but I gotta admit you know your way around people; guess you win this round, one billion points to you.”

Asagiri lights up, leaning towards him in a flourish way, “But of course, Senku-chan! I’m a first class mentalist after all!” He exclaims, grinning.

His teeth are straight and white, though it seems his canines are a bit sharper than average, giving Gen an almost predatory look.

It suits him, Senku finds himself thinking. 

He doesn’t really know what to do with that thought.

They keep playing.

“Absolutely not Senku-chan! That’s not what Freud-chan meant with his theory on the Oedipus complex!”

Senku just sticks his pinky in his ear, unimpressed, “Yes, sure, what would a bogus magician even know about that?”

“Bogus!? Excuse-me!” Asagiri whines, the glass in his hand swaying dangerously; luckily, none of its content spills, and the boy just keeps on grumbling so rude, Senku-chan, truly a meany!

The two of them had been going at it for well over an hour now, skipping through the majority guests, stopping only a moment to grab something to drink and a couple of chairs to sit on, chairs that had been moved away a while ago from the center of the room to allow the guest to dance to the soft notes played by the live orchestra.

Their game had turned a bit harder to play since people wouldn’t be still and the two of them were having some troubles continuing, so they found themselves idly chatting about different topics of conversation.

“I can’t believe you get all about someone just observing them for a few seconds,” Senku pouts, annoyed at having been completely obliterated by Gen at their little game, “and from this distance too.”

He scrunches his nose, “Still, these are all just suppositions since we can’t really go around asking people to confirm our theories; I kinda wish we could get some feedback on it to see who got more things right.”

Gen tilts his head, staring at him in a way that makes Senku pause.

“...do I have something on my face?” The young scientist asks, self-consciously rubbing his mouth with his palm; Gen waves his hands in a placating manner, “No, no, Senku-chan, you are good, I was just thinking about omething-say!”

Senku hums, lowering his hand back down, “Alright then. Move now, it’s your turn to pick someone.”

“Mmh, how about…”, the mentalist starts, before raising a hand and pointing at—

“Me?” 

Senku blinks, confused, “...you? You what?”

Gen claps, “Well Senku-chan, this way you’ll get the feedback you want; also, we have been talking for a while, so it should be easier for you to deduce things about me, don’t you think?”

The younger boy looks at him consideringly, sticking his pinkie in his ear, “...that’s not a bad idea actually. Alright then, just swear you won’t lie to win.” 

Gen pouts at him, showing off his best hurt puppy eyes.

Senku just raises an unimpressed brow at him.

“Alright, alright I swear! Jeez Senku-chan, you sure are stubborn…” They both stand and Senku doesn't dignify him with an answer, locking his eyes on the other’s figure and taking in every detail; Asagiri stays perfectly still, head high and a small confident smile on his face, completely comfortable even under such intense scrutiny.

The magician is wearing a rather impressive gown, Senku has to admit: it’s a clear mix of traditional Japanese formal wear with a more cool, modern interpretation, in a light lavender color with dark accents and accessories, the twirly pattern adorning the open kimono-style vest drawing your eye to the young man’s lithe figure.

He wears black, straight pants that fall neatly right above his polished dress shoes, his slim waist slightly accentuated by a pearly white obi wrapped around a dark fitted high neck shirt with purple lining, while on top rests the light colored kimono, rich in details and embroidered beads.

He looks good, even if his appearance makes him stand out from the crowd.

It’s not just the way he is dressed, though, but also the way he carries himself: Senku had observed the other throughout the night and he had noticed how Gen tends to hunch slightly when approaching people but, now that it’s only the two of them, the older boy is standing to his full height, actually surpassing the young scientist by a few centimeters.

He is confident, or at least he appears so.

“...you are Japanese, have type 1 black hair, your height is about 1,75 meters per roughly 60 kilograms, though I can’t give you a more precise number due to your loose clothing. You are lithe, with almost no muscular mass, even if I know you are able to lift your own body weight from what I have seen of your performances…”

Gen gives him a knowing look at his last words, “So you do watch my shows—”

“—anyway!” Senku interrupts him, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, “You are about twenty or twenty-one years old, yes, even if you look younger than your age thanks to your smooth skin and youthful face, which also happens to be incredibly symmetrical.”

He lowers his gaze, “You take pride in your heritage, choosing to wear a more traditionally Japanese style of clothing even at a western-style party, though you do seem to enjoy a more modern-ish type of fashion and you clearly like the color purple; I’m also pretty sure you are ambidextrous.”

He nods to himself, “This is what I can guess from looking at you.”

Asagiri tilts his head at him, pinning him in place with his eyes as a challenging smile tilts his lips, “...and what did you figure out by talking to me?"

Senku holds the eye contact, “...you have extensive knowledge on human psyche and social behaviour, which makes me assume you have studied either psychology or anthropology, if not both; you are a quick thinker and a hell of a smooth talker.”

He absent mindedly takes half a step closer to the other boy, “You have perfect control over your body and your face, which is what makes you the great liar you are—”

Gen sticks out his tongue at him at that.

“—you also speak in pig latin a lot, which I assume you do to make yourself look more… gullible? Probably something to do with the whole mentalism deal you got going on, but I noticed you do so more when you are in a group setting rather than a one-on-one conversation, unless you are teasing or— ugh, purposely annoying the other person, which you seem to do a whole lot with me—”

Asagiri smiles, “That’s because I ike-lay you, Senku-chan~” sending a wink in his direction.

Senku frowns, huffing, but he can feel his traitorous ears redden at the tease, “As I said, annoying.”

The magician hums, sending him a knowing smile, but Senku doesn’t take the bait, choosing to simply ignore him instead, “You often put on a show of acting naively or dumbly, but in the end you always manage to obtain whatever you want; you claim to be shallow and incompetent in anything that is not your craft but, in reality, you are extremely resourceful and level headed.”

He licks his lips, “You are also exceptionally smart, thought you downplay it; your forte lies more on pattern recognition and social relationships rather than from factual knowledge, and yet you are easily able to carry conversations about the most random topics simply by following your interlocutor’s speech, which proves that you have a great memory, on both long and short term.”

He looks at the other in the eyes, “You are skilled in what you do, extremely so, and you know it: you are confident about your skills, even if you don't show it; you are clever, and capable and…” he trails off, suddenly uneasy by the way Gen is looking at him.

The mentalist’s eyes had narrowed in two slits during the young scientist’s speech, his long, dark lashes casting shadows on his cheeks in the dim light, and they are looking at him so intensely they make Senku feel exposed.

Gen’s eyes, Senku thinks, are the most intriguing part of the man: he can’t help but be amazed by their color, a grey so deep it resembles a summer storm, a dangerous gamble between a thirst quenching rain or a destructive hailstorm, caring and devastating at the same time.

Unpredictable. Dangerous. 

Gen’s eyes, Senku realizes, are beautiful. 

He swallows.

“…and you have terrible taste in haircuts.” Senku finishes lamely, gesturing with his head at the other’s hair.

“Oi!” Asagiri whines, breaking the charged moment, “You are truly ean-may Senku-chan! You were saying such nice things about me but then you ruined it! Meany!” He jabs at Senku’s arm with a pointy finger.

Senku laughs, earlier uneasiness disappearing as he relaxes, crossing his arms in front of his chest, “Eheh, right back at you, you bogus magician; tell me now, was I right?”

Asagiri taps his lips, eyes cast upwards in a thinking manner, “Let’s see, let’s see… I gotta admit you did rather good, dear, beside the part where you called me an annoying liar— truly, you can be so ude-ray, how can my poor heart take it!— everything else was correct! One billion points to you, Senku-chan~!” He claps his hands enthusiastically.

Senku huffs, but he is smiling, smug and confident, “The whole mentalism thing it’s not too hard when you know where to look; at this pace I’ll steal your job, you trashy mentalist.” He says, nudging Gen with his shoulder to show him he was just teasing.

At his side, Asagiri’s mouth drops open, “The audacity! How dare you ay-say something like that to me, when I have only been nice to you, Senku-chan!? Did you come to torment me for my sins in a past life? Ean-may, Senku-chan, ean-may!” He huffs, crossing his arms and looking away; he is smiling too though, the smallest upturn of his lips betraying him.

Suddenly, he turns back towards the younger boy, grinning wickedly, “Since you are all done, it’s my turn now Senku-chan!”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and, instead, starts slowly walking around the other, holding his own chin with his fingers as he looks him up and down; Senku feels his body tense under the magician's pointed scrutiny, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting.

“Well, well dear, where to start…you are about 1,70 meters tall and I suppose we are about the same weight… you have a few small scars on your face, thought they are pretty old, which tells me you used to pick at your skin when you were younger but probably stopped not long after starting.”

He gives Senku a small smile, “Your fingers are also covered in scars and calluses, proof of a pretty delicate skin and that you work a lot with your hands, which I had found curious upon meeting you, given your evident predisposition for academics; tell me, Senku-chan, you are not just all books and papers, are you?”

He looks at the boy up and down, “You wear a suit tailored to your body, but I know from our little chit-chat from tonight that you’ve little to no interest in fashion, so this must be a gift; I honestly can’t imagine you standing still and let some stranger poke you around with needles and such, so I assume it was made by a friend of yours, someone who likes sewing and fashion. What a ear-day friend you must have~”

Senku smiles as he rolls his eyes: Yuzuriha has been using both Taiju and him as models for years now, so he is used to her antics; she is quick, hardly ever in need to have him try the clothes more than once before tailoring them the perfect size.

Contrary to one might think, he actually really enjoys the modelling time spent with her, even if it means standing still while she drapes cloth all over him: it’s soothing and quiet, her calming presence and methodic movements allowing his brain to slow down and relax while the two of them exchange soft words and gentle laughs.

His affection must show, because the mentalist dramatically gasps as an evil little grin tilts his lips, “Oh my, my, does Senku-chan have a little crush~?”

Senku’s face falls, “Hell no! Yuzuriha is like a sister to me! Also, she obviously likes the big oaf and has not even a millimeter of interest in me romantically.” He crosses his arms, “I actually can’t stand them dancing around each other anymore, it’s time for Taiju to grow a pair and confess already.”

Asagiri's smile turns mischievous, “Oh, what a great friend you are to root for them! Tell me, do you want some advice to set them up? I can share my vast romantic knowledge with you, Senku dear, and they will get together in a heartbeat!” He says, clasping his hands together to form a little heart, but Senku waves him off.

“Nah, I'm sure they’ll figure it out: Taiju might be a bit slow in that department, but he is way too determined to let her go without confessing; guess I’ll just have to wait some more.” He chuckles, before looking back at Gen, who is observing him with a puzzled look on his face.

“Honestly, I thought the great Senku-sensei would have wanted to get to the optimal result as quickly as possible; I did not think you were one for waiting when you could do something about it.” Asagiri confesses, tilting his head and looking at the other pointedly.

Senku just huffs, “Waiting is a fundamental part of science: rushing a reaction could cause it to nullify or, worse, escalate to a dangerous degree. The best thing one can do, at times, is simply observe the natural development of the subject: that’s how love should be.”

He scrunches his nose, “Or, at least, that’s what Byakuya told me when I was seven and I accidentally outed one of his colleague’s crush in front of the whole student council.”

“You what!?” Asagiri blurts out before covering his mouth as his body shakes by the force of his laughter.

Senku scratches his head, “Yeah, not my coolest moment; well, in the end the two of them got together, so I don’t know why the old man acted all stern and stuff, considering I could literally see he was about to burst out laughing himself."

“Oh my god, tell me you are joking!”

“Nope, one billion percent real; after the whole deal he actually took me out for dinner and told me he was tired of those two tip-toeing around each other too.” He smiles, “Still, by the end of the night, he explained to me that it is not in my place to interfere, especially if things are naturally moving on their own.”

He chuckles, a soft expression on his face, “I trust they’ll figure it out on their own, at their own pace.”

Asagiri, at his side, gives him a small smile.

“...well now, keep going, or is this everything you managed to figure out, you trashy mentalist?”

Gen pouts, earlier softness leaving his expression instantly after Senku’s words, “Ude-ray!”, he childishly crosses his arms, “I’ll show you, Senku-chan!”

He takes a deep breath, “In no particular order: you are ambidextrous, just like me, your favourite color is green, you don’t like jazz which, how could you Senku-chan—, you don't really like raw tomatoes, your meal of choice is ramen and, tell me, are you allergic to lacquer, by any chance?”

“How the fuck did you figure that out!?”

“Mmh, who knows~” the magician sings-sangs, “You have a small social circle, mainly made of your two childhood friends, never had a crush on anybody and you seem like you probably are a menace at school, aren't you, Senku dear? I feel like teachers both love and hate you.” He giggles.

Senku rolls his eyes but it’s clear he is amused, despite it all.

“You like science as a whole, especially physics and chemistry, but it’s clear you want to pursue a career in astrophysics, since all you can think about are stars, much like your father; you don’t watch much television besides the news, yet you are a big videogame fan and…” Asagiri suddenly hesitates, his playful tone dimming.

Senku raises a brow at him, “...and what? Spit it out, no way you are getting shameful now, you bogus magician.” He teases.

“…and you are adopted.”

Senku huffs, amused, “That's why you hesitated? It's not really rocket science, and it’s a rather fair assumption considering you have seen me and Byakuya standing next to each other; not the first one to figure it out, you trashy mentalist.”

Gen’s body imperceptibly relaxes after hearing the other’s calm response, “Silly Senku-chan, I am aware not all types of albinism are hereditary: even if you have it and Ishigami-san doesn’t, it does not mean the two of you are not related, since it’s a naturally occurring genetic mutation; also, there might be someone else in your family tree that passed it down, or it might have skipped your father altogether.”

The mentalist puts his hands on his hips, “Nethertheless, oculocutaneous albinism is congenital: sure, again, it could have skipped your dad, but even if it did, the two of you don’t share any of the physical traits blood father-son should have, like bone structure or hair line shape. I know that much!”

Senku’s brows shot up, “Well damn, I’m surprised you know so much about it; the majority of the people who meet me are familiar with albinism, but you are the first one to actually know about the details of the condition. Gotta say I’m a little impressed.”

Asagiri all but beams at the praise.

“Your general knowledge is rather extensive, something that it’s hard to find in people our age; tell me, why do you know so much about so many things?” The scientist asks, curious.

“I like to have my fingers in many pies, Senku-chan dear,” Gen smiles, “which I assume is kind of the same for you, isn’t it?”

“I guess so, yeah.”

They both bask in the quietness of the moment, soft, classical music in background as their gazes look over the crowd.

It’s nice. Comfortable.

Intimate.

Senku closes his eyes for a second, enjoying the calmness, tracing back the last couple of hours: he might have approached the night illwillingly but, now, he has to admit the whole experience had not been as bad as he thought it was gonna be.

The chat he had with Byakuya’s colleagues had been fulfilling, the food top notch and the night’s atmosphere light and enjoyable, not at all suffocating and tightassed as he assumed it was going to be.

And, lastly, his long conversation with Asagiri: it had been stimulating and engaging, the other man challenging him with his witty mind and even wittier mouth, making the last couple of hours very, very enjoyable.

Senku has to admit it: he’s having a lot of fun.

He smiles.

“...so, in conclusion, we can say mentalism beats science ten to one, right Senku-chan~?”

Senku’s eyes shot open, “What?!” He screeches, earlier relaxation evaporating as he turns towards the other’s direction so fast he almost gets whiplash, “Hell no! You can’t just use this—” he vaguely gestures between the two of them, “—game as evidence: since we can’t have actual feedback, this all remains simple speculation.” He crosses his arms, indignant, “And, since we can’t reach any concrete conclusions, that claim is untrue!”

Gen pouts, his voice going high and child-like, “But Senku-chan, that’s not fair, I clearly won our game! So, by proxy, mentalism triumphs!”

Senku shakes his head vehemently, “Nope, not a chance, without factual evidence there’s not even a millimeter of victory.”

“But Senku-chan!”

“Nuh-uh.”

Asagiri is about to rebut when a loud voice cuts him off:

“Senku! There you are!”

The duo turns, noticing Byakuya jogging closer: behind the man the crowd had dispersed, men and women headed towards the exit in small groups; the music had also quieted down at some point and the orchestra could be seen putting their instruments away. Senku blinks: 

How did I miss that?

Byakuya’s voice breaks him out of his stupor, ”Fiuu, I finally found you! How did you end up all the way over there in the corner, I almost missed you! C’mon, it’s time to leave now—” the man pauses, finally taking notice of his son’s company, “...oh, hello Asagiri-san! Sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

Gen bows, “Hello again Ishigami-san! Don’t orry-way~” he straightens back up, “But I do apologize for stealing your on-say away…”

Byakuya barks out a loud laugh, “Ah, don’t worry! I'm actually glad to see he’s here with you! I lost sight of him hours ago and I was afraid to find him hidden away in a storage room in some secluded corner of the villa, starved and dehydrated!"

Senku’s ears flame up, “Oi!”

“Mmh, don’t orry-way, Ishigami-san, I kept an eye on him in your absence and I made sure he drank his water and ate his food!”

“Oi!”

The two older men laugh at Senku’s frowning face before Byakuya slaps a hand on his boy’s shoulder affectionately, “Com’on son, don’t take it to heart, we’re just kidding!” The man exclaims while, in the back, Asagiri says something about frown lines and wrinkles that has Senku shooting him the stink eye.

Byakuya smiles, “It’s been a real pleasure, Asagiri-san, but I fear it’s time for us to leave now; I’ll give you two time to say your goodbyes.” He squeezes Senku’s shoulder, “I’ll see you out in five, son; goodbye, Asagiri-san!” He waves as the young man bows to his parting back.

Silence stretches.

“...this was fun, Senku-chan,” Gen turns towards him, hands hidden in his sleeves as his hair sways with the motion, “but we still have not decided who the winner is yet: you said I can’t claim victory, but I absolute-ay refuse a loss, now! What then?”

Senku snorts, amused, crossing his arms in front of him again, “Guess it’s a tie…” he frowns, “...doesn’t feel right though; I hoped we could have had a bit more time to settle it, if I’m being honest.”

At his side, Asagiri lowers his head a bit, his long bangs covering his face as he bites his lips, pensive.

Senku huffs, resigned, ready to begrudgingly part when Gen’s voice catches his attention, “Well, maybe if we were able to contact each other again we won’t have to decide now and settle on a tie, which would also give us more time to discuss it calmly and proclaim the rightful winner…” he trails off, a careful expression on his face as his fingers raise to move his hair out of his eyes.

Senku blinks, surprised, “...are you suggesting we exchange phone numbers?” He raises his eyebrows skeptically, “I thought celebrities like you didn’t do that.”

He says that, yet he can’t help thinking about Lillian’s contact on his phone.

Uh. Guess he does not have the best record at that, after all.

He’s about to agree, when Asagiri waves a hand between them, “It’s ok, Senku-chan, especially since I got the feeling you wouldn’t be one to rag-bay about it anyway~”

His tone is light, teasing, but there’s tightness in his posture as he hides his hand back in his sleeves, eyes shadowed by his hair again, “It’s ok if you don’t want to though, don’t orry-way! It was a silly request!” He gives him a small, plastic smile, “This has been fun, Senku-chan dear, it’s been a pleasure! Have a good night!”

And, just like that, Gen gives him a small bow and takes a step to leave.

Senku’s body reacts before he even realizes: he jerks forward, shooting his hand out to grab at the other’s arm, “H-hold up! I wasn’t refusing!” He looks at the metalist, noticing the way the other’s eyes are fixed on the place he’s grabbing at his wrist; he snatches his hand back, awkwardly scratching the back of his head, “Guess I was just surprised you would give it to me, that’s all— but I agree it’d be the most logical way to determine the winner, calmly and fairly, together in agreement…”

He looks the other in the eyes, “I don’t have my phone on me but you can still tell me your number: I’ll remember it.”

In front of him, Gen’s face breaks into a radiant smile.

“So, dear son of mine, how did the night go?” Byakuya asks from where is sitting in the driver seat, “Did you have fun or was it a complete waste of your time as you feared?”

Senku tskes, “Uff, stop grinning like that old man, just because it wasn’t as bad as I thought doesn’t mean you were right.” He crosses his arms, “But I do recognize it could have gone way worse—”

His phone suddenly buzzes, interrupting him, and the boy reaches for it in his pocket, noticing that there’s a new answer to his latest text:

Me, 00.12:

Senku Ishigami here

Unknown number, 00.23:

With a text like that, I had no doubt it was you, Senku dear! Hope you haven’t saved my contact under “Bogus magician” or something like that, or I’ll be ad-may~

Senku huffs, amused, pulling his bowtie off and settling more comfortably on the car seat:

Me, 00.23:

Eheh, there’s still a chance you gave me a fake number, you fraud. Jokes on you though, I have yet to save it, so thanks for the suggestion.

(¬ᴗ ´¬ )

He turns the screen off as, at Senku’s side, Byakuya turns the car radio on, a soft, calming tune filling the otherwise quiet space as the man carefully drives through the poorly lit roads of the countryside; the dark atmosphere, together with the peaceful tune and gentle sway of the car makes the boy drowsy, body slumping in his seat as the late hour finally catches up to him.

Senku feels his eyes starting to close when a sudden “pin” startles him back awake:

Unknown number, 00.29:

Meany, so meany! Admit it, you actually enjoy pestering me!

(つ >A<)つ

The boy huffs a soft laugh, lazily tapping on the screen as a small smirk tilts his lips, when Byakuya suddenly speaks, “Mmh, I see you are pretty focused there: tell me son, did you make a new friend tonight by any chance?” The man teases, sending him a quick, knowing look. 

Senku frowns, the tips of his ears reddening in embarrassment, “Mind your business old man…” he mutters, pressing the phone face down on his lap as his father laughs gently.

He slumps in his seat, annoyedly embarrassed, as he sleepily mumbles his disagreement to the man’s words: he and Asagiri are not friends, nor are they going to become such; they exchanged contacts simply to put an end to their discussion, finalizing their own theories and deciding on the ultimate winner.

That’s it.

Hell, he doesn’t even particularly like the guy: he thinks about Asagiri, at his weird looks and annoying-ass voice, at the way he loves to tease him at any chance he gets, pestering and tricking him— even if Senku has to recognize the other never really crossed any line and that his antics were actually pretty funny, overall, even if he acts like a whining child every time he doesn’t get what he wants, pouting and complaining at every given moment and—  

Nope, definitely no.

Their evening chat might have been fun but that doesn’t change the fact that the magician is still an irritating, insufferable guy, someone who Senku simply entertained to escape his own boredom in a self-serving conversation during a dull night.

Their relationship is academic and professional, challenging, sure, and maybe a bit— ok, very— stimulating for Senku, something he’s not really used to having with other people— but still transactional, a way for both of them to pass time and engage in thought-provoking  conversations, nothing more.

He’s sure Asagiri thinks the same.

In his hands, his phone goes off again, breaking him out of his thoughts, and he instinctively looks at it, lowering his eyes to the device—  before hastily snapping them back up towards the window at his side, suddenly wide awake.

He turns the screen off, raising a hand to his pink face to cover his traitorous, smiling mouth with his palm as he mentally curses the magician and his damn, cringey antics:

Trashy mentalist, 00.35:

Can’t wait for you to finally admit I’m the winner~

Until then, I suggest you look up Freud-chan's works like I told you to, or do you want to make it easy for me, mmh?

Trashy mentalist, 00.35:

Have a good night, Senku-chan~

( ˆ ³ ˆ)~♡

Jeez, Senku thinks, he really is a prick.

He closes his eyes, a soft smile still on his face as he finally succumbs to sleep:

Next time I’ll show you, you bogus magician, I’ll show you.