Chapter Text
Gen is enjoying finally having some peace and quiet, laid out comfortably on a tree branch and cozied up between the leaves, when he hears a voice call his name.
He purses his lips and turns to his side, ignoring it. He doesn't bother looking to see who it is. Whoever needs him can wait, for all he cares. He's just spent his whole day on the Mainland, and spent the two days before that preparing both human and pixie style magic tricks to entertain the children of the Mainland. Given that the literal survival of all fairies depends on if he can make enough children believe in fairies, he thinks he's more than earned time away from responsibilities.
They should have gotten the hint that he doesn't want to be bothered with how deep he is in Autumn Forest, really, but it doesn't matter. They can wait their turn, thank you very much.
"Gen!" the voice calls again, and Gen stiffens as he realizes he recognizes the voice. Kohaku.
Well, that complicates things a bit. But with any luck, he can hide himself among the leaves, and she'll flit right by him, none the wiser. She may have fantastic eyesight, one that rivals even that of a far seeing talent's, but she's a fast flying talent. And fortunately for Gen, fast flying talents are naturally prone to dashing through, causing them to miss things. Surely she can't pick up everything with how fast she naturally flies.
Gen, however, is not lucky. In the midst of attempting to cover himself with one of the orange maple leaves, he feels a soft kick to his back. He bites back a startled yelp at the unexpectedness of it, before pasting on a smile as he turns his head to look up at Kohaku. "Why, dear Kohaku! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"
At this angle, Kohaku appears upside down, but Gen can still see her unimpressed stare clear as day. "I've been looking for you for hours."
Gen's smile does not falter— instead, he grins wider as he sits up. "Well, dear Kohaku," he starts, hiding his hands that he's clasped together under his long sleeves. "I have had such a long day, flying around the Mainland, bringing joy to the hearts of human children everywhere and keeping the belief in fairies alive. I only just now returned from my travels." He sighs dramatically. "As you can imagine, such a difficult job weighs on my shoulders greatly. Single handedly keeping the belief in fairies alive so we don't all die is such a heavy burden, and it all falls on little old me. So perhaps, to honor the one who's taking on this arduous task, you could let me relax alone and find me tomorrow?" He bats his eyes dramatically.
Kohaku crosses her arms. Her face didn't so much as twitch during his whole speech. Damn. He thought it was at least a bit convincing. "If I leave you now, you're just going to go back to the Mainland and no one will be able to find you again for days. Get up. You're coming with me."
Gen lets out a long whine, but sits up. It's less that she's persuaded him— Kohaku couldn't manipulate anyone if her life depended on it— and more that he's worried she'll just kick him again. "Fine, fine. You are uthless-ray, Kohaku dear."
"You talk so weird."
He sighs again. He definitely hasn't heard that one before, he thinks to himself sarcastically. He's long resigned himself to dealing with other fairies and their odd reactions to the human lingo he's picked up on. It's not like he's going to explain the specifics of it to her, though— he doesn't feel like getting into a whole conversation about human speech patterns to someone who thought saying 'nice to meet you' instead of 'fly with you' was strange.
"So!" he says instead, clapping his hands together. "What do you need me for?"
She looks him up and down, scrutinizing him, before she shakes her head and replies. "I have a friend. He needs your help with something for a project he's working on."
Gen blinks. "And you need… me for it?" He asks, incredulous. "I can't say I'll be much help. Wouldn't a tinker be better?" Why me, he doesn't say.
Kohaku shrugs."Probably. I don't really see how much help you'd be for whatever he wants with your stringy arms. He wouldn't stop talking about how he needed you for it to work, though. He said you were crucial to his plans."
Gen tilts his head, grin still pasted on his face. "Well, Kohaku dear, then it seems we're in agreement he must have gotten the wrong person, or have been mistaken about what he needs. Manual labor hardly suits me."
Kohaku scowls. "Just talk to him, he'll explain it better. I don't know the specifics. All I know is that he was very clear that it had to be you. He said he needed a clapping talent, and we all know you're the only one."
He forces his eye not to twitch. "You aren't going to let me leave until I talk with him, are you."
"Nope," she says, popping the 'p'. "Are you coming?"
He stares at her, resisting the urge to tilt his head. Gen doesn't spend too much time with Kohaku, really. It's nothing personal, of course— he just doesn't spend time with most fairies. After all, most fairies tend to spend their time with others from their talent. They eat together, work together, spend entire days together.
Gen, however, does not have anyone else to share the burden of being a clapping talent with, and so he spends most of his days on the outskirts.
Because of this, though, he spends a lot of time observing others, so he's confident that he knows the type of person she is. Even if he wasn't so skilled at reading people, she wears who she is on her sleeve— she is deeply honest and loyal, and he trusts that if one of her friends asked her to bring him, that she really wouldn't leave him alone until he at least heard him out. Really, it would be quicker to go, hear the mysterious fairy out, and decline to help, rather than try to dodge Kohaku for days.
Even if he can feel his wings ache at the idea of flying around again, right after he finally found time to rest.
"…Sure, fine, atever-whay." He sees her eyes brighten just a touch when he says that, so he can't help but add, "But you owe me three poppy puff rolls."
Kohaku snorts, and flies off. Gen observes her for a moment, watching the way she zips between the trees and the leaves rustle in her wake. Only after she pauses and turns, clearly waiting for him to catch up, does he follow.
This fairy, apparently, is a tinker talent, given that in the direction Kohaku is leading them, there is only the Tinkers' Nook and the woods. And unless this person is a hermit— which honestly, with what he knows of Kohaku, he wouldn't rule that out— she's almost certainly leading them to Tinkers' Nook.
Sure enough, they take a left right where Gen expects, and they fly through the beginnings of Tinkers' Nook.
Gen doesn't spend much time here. It's noisy, and most fairies here are content to spend their time repairing old pots and pans, or creating small things that won't do much for Pixie Hollow in the long run. Gen has never been able to see the appeal.
Back when Gen had first arrived, before he knew the specifics of his talent, he had found himself trying a wide variety of different talents, trying to find his own. This had resulted in him doing many things that he had zero interest or talent in. One of those was a brief foray into repairing a pot, supervised by a wizened tinker who had gaped when he accidentally put a hole in a pot instead of smoothing the dent.
He suppresses a wince thinking about it, instead following Kohaku along as she goes deeper into Tinkers' Nook. She's quick- even slowed down to accommodate him, she's quicker than what's comfortable. Is Kohaku nervous about him meeting this fairy?
"Dear Kohaku," he calls up. "Do you think you could at least tell me this fairy's name before you drag me to a meeting with him?"
Kohaku doesn't look back as she responds, though she does slow just a bit. "If I tell you who it is, you'll just run off."
Gen laughs nervously. "Now, now, surely that can't be true."
Kohaku glances back at him, and Gen doesn't spot a lie in her eyes. A chill runs up his spine.
Oh dear. She's completely serious.
He stops in his tracks, floating in place. "You- you have to be idding-kay."
"Gen," she says, exasperated. "If you don't come with me willingly, I'll drag you." Gen's heart drops. He can see it vividly: he tries futilely to run, and she resorts to dragging him on the ground, or god forbid, carrying his dead weight as she flies. To save himself the humiliation, he forces himself to follow, and starts to mentally go through the list of tinker talents he knows, trying to see if any jump out as being infamous enough that Kohaku is sure he will run if he hears his name.
From Gen's observations, most tinker talents fell under one of two categories: busybody good-doers, who repair anything and everything they can get their hands on, or obsessive and fixated fairies, who will dedicate themselves fully to a specific niche. Kaseki, the tinker who he tried repairing pots with at one point, was an example of the first type— obsessed with the idea of repair and creation itself. Joel, a tinker that Gen could often spot crouched over some overly complicated project, honing his talents, was the other type of tinker, annoying in a different way.
Neither was the type of person Gen would prefer to interact with, but that doesn't explain why Kohaku was so convinced that Gen would flee the moment he knew who. Which means that either Kohaku was making a bigger deal out of this than it was worth, or Gen is missing something big.
The place that she finally leads him to doesn't give many answers, either. It's tucked between the roots of a large oak tree, with a makeshift doorway covered by leaves that have been sewn into curtains. He thinks that a section above the workshop within the tree has been carved out, given that a few fairy heights above the doorway, Gen can see a window with a soft orange glow. But other than that, it's entirely unremarkable, and looks indistinguishable to the other tinker huts nearby.
The similarities to the other tinker huts end the moment Gen follows Kohaku inside.
Tinker workshops are known for being cluttered, but they're cluttered in an inexplicably cozy way. They have shelves lined with broken kettles, bent ladles, dented pots, watering pots with holes, and other common pixie items waiting to be repaired. Warm lantern light illuminates the room, shining light on the half-finished projects left laying on tables, abandoned as a tinker found a more pressing project to work on, waiting to be picked up again.
This doesn't look like those workshops. Instead, it's like a storm knocked its way through the room, scattering leaf papers and diagrams throughout the room. Worryingly, a good chunk of those diagrams seem to have been burnt or shredded in some way. He forces himself not to analyze that further, because dear god, and focuses more on the other contents of the workshop.
Lost things are displayed everywhere— not the pretty types of lost things that commonly get displayed or reused, either— lost things with complicated moving parts that Gen doesn't think he's ever seen in all his time visiting the Mainland. Shelves line the walls, with jars of plants of all varieties, rocks and minerals, and pieces of scrap metal covering their surfaces. Tools lie on every surface as well. Some he recognizes, like the pair of thorn scissors, the chisel and hammer, and a drill, but others he can't even begin to guess at their purpose. There is a strong, noticeable odor of smoke, burnt sap, and dust, and Gen finds himself turning up his nose at it.
And finally, most noticeably, there is a fairy hunched over at one of the workstations, angled so Gen cannot see anything about him other than the sharp angle of his wings, and the back of his light brown tunic.
"Senku!" Kohaku calls out with a wide grin. "I brought that clapping talent," She gives a thumbs up in Senku's direction. "You want to put him to work?" Gen stiffens slightly. Senku? That name sounds familiar, but where does he know—
The fairy sits up and spins around in his chair, revealing hair that juts directly upwards like wild grass, other than two strands that hang directly in his face. And his hair looks the part, too— while it's a cream, almost white color at the roots, the tips fade to a vivid green. Gen's attention snaps to the fairy's eyes— a bright, almost unsettling red, that looks him up and down before smirking.
"Heheh. Thanks, Kohaku. Ten billion points to you."
Gen gapes as he suddenly places where he's seen this tinker. "You!" he cries out, genuine surprise and horror in his voice. "You're that fairy who blew up the tea room! It was closed for hours and—" he pauses, indignation flooding through him as he remembers that day, "I— I missed dinner because of you!"
Senku brings his pinky finger up to his ear, twisting it. Gen notes a streak of soot on his cheek, and the singing at the end of his sleeve.
"That was one time," he grumbles. "And everyone overreacted. How was I supposed to know that heated sap and pixie dust would react that violently? Pixie dust is illogical."
Gen is— okay, he can deal with this. All he has to do is smile, nod, ignore every strange thing Senku says, and fly away as soon as possible. "Hm," he says. "Well, I suppose that makes it just fine, then!" His voice is laced with more than a dash of sarcasm. "So then, dear Senku, what on earth could you need little old me for?"
Senku's eyes light up at that. "Sit down. I have a few questions for you."
Gen looks around the room doubtfully. Every single surface is covered, so he can't possibly imagine where Senku intends for him to sit. Without speaking, Senku flies directly in front of Gen, grabs his wrist, and pulls him. Gen yelps, but both Kohaku and Senku ignore it as Senku leads him towards the one spot in the room that was unoccupied— the stool that Senku was sitting on before.
He motions for Gen to sit. Gen looks between the two, but slowly lowers himself from the air and comes to a seat. Apparently satisfied, Senku begins to rattle off questions in quick succession.
"I need a complete breakdown on the specifics of your talent. I know you travel to the Mainland and interact with humans— what are the mechanisms behind that? Do you physically disappear from Neverland, or do you exist in both places simultaneously? If you physically disappear from Neverland, can you bring things with you? Do you deliberately choose where you appear in the Mainland, or are you thrown into a random location? If you can control where you appear, do you need exact coordinates, or does the general concept of a location suffice? How do you actually reach the Mainland? Is it a skill you could theoretically teach someone? Is there a specific process you need to—"
The questions rattle off in Gen's brain, and he cuts Senku off for his sanity.
"Dear Senku, wait—", Gen interjects, raising his hand to stop Senku's speech. "At least let me respond to your questions before you come up with more." He passively notes the way that Senku said humans instead of Clumsies. He can't think of another fairy that uses the word human, and that sticks with him, oddly enough.
At the very least, it seems that Senku wants details about the specifics of his talent rather than help building some project. Questions are easy— the quicker he answers, the quicker they'll leave him alone.
He takes a deep breath in through his nose. "To be honest, I don't know if I can answer all of these. Generally, when going to the Mainland, I focus more on why I'm going rather than the specifics of how I get there. But yes, according to other fairies, I physically anish-vay from the spot I was whenever I blink. That's all second hand, of course, but I trust the others' accounts well enough."
He lifts his fingers as he speaks, counting the questions he's answered one by one. "I can also bring material with me, yes. Props for my performances for the human children. I can't say I've ever tried to blink to a specific ocation-lay— I suspect that most of the time, the blink pulls me towards a child who is more likely to believe."
Gen pauses, mulling over the next couple questions. He chews the inside of his cheek as he thinks, before finally, he answers. "I don't think I could teach it to anyone, either. Half of the time, I don't even choose when I blink. And for how I go there, well…" he bites his lip.
It's surprisingly difficult to try to put words to the process. It comes so naturally to him, that explaining it feels unnatural. How would you ask a garden talent to explain how they coax plants into growth, an animal talent how they could speak in a hummingbird's native tongue, or a light talent how they grab hold of beams of sunlight in the sky? How would a water talent explain how they can control water as if it was another limb, a weather talent how they can feel the clouds shifting into a storm, or a tinker talent how they understand broken objects so well they can almost hear them speak?
You can't— it's impossible to expect a coherent answer. And yet, Gen tries to grasp for words to somewhat describe it.
"It's like…" he frowns faintly, so deep in thought he forgets to keep his vacant smile pasted on. "You're in a tunnel, and it's somehow simultaneously dark and light all around. You can't see any paths forward, but you can feel the ways it branches off, and you know the way you need to go. So you have to… grab onto the way? And once you have a hold of it, take a step forwards, but without actually moving. And then, you feel it when you've arrived, and you blink and you're in the Mainland." Judging by the faces that Kohaku and Senku are making, it doesn't make a lick of sense to them. Gen can't exactly judge them for that, either. It's a gross misrepresentation of what it actually feels like, but he doesn't have the words for what it actually is. This is the best that Gen's got.
Kohaku clears her throat. "You said you don't always choose when you go, right? Is it easy to accidentally travel there?"
Gen waves his hand. "Oh, no, nothing like that. It's not something that I accidentally trigger. It's simply that when a fairy is about to fade, I'll suddenly find myself on the Mainland."
Kohaku stiffens. Really, her own fault for asking. Or Senku's fault for asking all these questions. No one wants to be reminded about the dirty details of his talent, what it's actually meant for. No one likes to remember how many fairies have died from disbelief.
"So," Senku starts, effectively changing the subject. His stare is oddly intense. "You say you've brought objects from Pixie Hollow to the Mainland. Could you theoretically bring things back?"
Gen tilts his head, letting out a hum as he considers the question. "Well, dear Senku, I can't say that I've ever tried to bring anything back with me. Most human objects are far too large and heavy to comfortably carry, so I've never given it thought." Senku looks deep in thought at that. "So, have I satisfied your curiosity?
Senku lowers himself, low enough that his shoes nearly touch the ground, and grins wildly. "Yeah, you've been a huge help. Now we can get to what you're actually here for."
Gen's brain blanks for one moment. "Excuse me?"
Right. There it is. He's a poor excuse of an observer for not seeing this coming.
Senku is a tinker talent. Tinker talents are satisfied with actions, and creations right in front of them, not mere words. Obviously, Senku would want more than just second hand information.
"We're going to conduct an experiment. You're curious on what you can actually do, right? Let's test your limits— you're going to try to get to a specific spot the Mainland, and when you get there, you're going to bring back something with you."
Gen stares. Well, no one can say he has a lack of confidence, he thinks to himself faintly. "Tempting! But no."
Senku looked entirely unsurprised, which unfortunately means that he might have expected that answer. Kohaku, on the other hand, spins towards him, and Gen instinctively shifts backwards in the stool to move away from her. "You bat, at least consider it—"
"I have enough on my plate to indulge in being some sort of… lab rat for dear Senku here. I came along with you and answered your questions. I've done more than enough." He shrugs. "Besides, I'm not interested in working for free."
"Who said anything about it being free?" Senku asks. Gen pauses.
"…Oh? This is the first I'm hearing of this."
"I thought it was obvious," he states. "Of course you won't be working for free— this is a basic exchange. You'll work with me to accomplish what I want, and I'll give you something that you want. It just depends on what that actually is."
Gen hums thoughtfully. Well, if he was getting something out of it, he supposes that changes things a bit. Truth be told, he was a bit curious if there were any parts of his talent that he hadn't fully grasped yet, but not enough to put himself through whatever demanding job the tinker surely had planned for him. But if it was a bargain…
He looks over Senku, analyzing him. Senku is odd for a tinker talent, Gen can tell that much. From their conversation, and Senku's drive to understand and dissect Gen's talent, Gen thinks he's gotten a pretty good idea. Most tinkers enjoy making and creating things, but Senku seems the type who would prefer to take something apart to see what makes it tick.
So why not give him a challenge? Gen loves to be difficult, after all. He thinks— what is something that surely wouldn't appeal to Senku, but that Gen would want? Something that Gen couldn't get easily, to take advantage of this.
The answer comes to him after a moment's deliberation. "Playing cards," he says, almost soft, surprising even himself. He mentally curses himself, and cools his expression.
"Playing cards?" Kohaku asks. "I've never heard of them."
Gen glances over at her. "They're a human object," he says. "They mainly use them for games, but some utilize them for magic tricks. It's the most fundamental tool for a magician."
"Magic?" Kohaku makes a face, affronted. "Don't tell me Clumsies think that they can do what we do."
Gen laughs at the sight of it. "No, no, nothing like that— most of what they do are sleight of hand or illusions. I have been trying to learn some of the tricks they do, though, so having my own personal deck of cards would be useful. Right now, I've just been using makeshift items I've made to practice other types of tricks, like…" he trails off as he digs through his pockets, looking for the filed down stem of an acorn cap that he uses to mimic a coin. "This!" he exclaims.
He pulls out the acorn stem, rolling it across his knuckles, letting Kohaku watch with her narrowed eyes, before throwing it into the air, letting it spin. He reaches both hands up to grab it, catching it in his left hand, but letting it slide down his sleeve into one of the many pockets he has hidden. "Which hand is the acorn stem in?" Gen asks.
Kohaku immediately points to his left hand. Senku's eyebrows furrow. Gen opens up his left hand, revealing it to be empty. Then, he opens up his right hand, showing the same.
"How did you— I saw you grab it in your left hand!"
"Magic, dear Kohaku," he says, wiggling his fingers. "Human magicians do stuff like this all the time."
"It's in your sleeve, isn't it?" Senku says suddenly. Gen grins a fox-like smile, pulling out the acorn cap, revealing Senku's observation to be correct.
"If I was doing this with a human child, that's about the time I would slide it out from my sleeve and pretend to pull it out of their ear. It's sooo much easier to do it though around children who aren't trying to pick it apart, though!" Gen whines.
Senku smirks. "Have you tried doing it better, then? It's obvious that was the only way you could accomplish it. Stupidly easy to see through."
"Ah! Cruel, dear Senku!"
Senku chuckles, then glances back at some diagram he has on his desk. Gen can practically see the gears turning as he gets back on track. "So, these playing cards. What are they made of?"
Gen looks up at the ceiling as he imagines a deck of playing cards. He's seen them quite a few times, but only tried to hold them once. Despite each card nearly being the size of Gen, it was surprisingly light. And with the feel of it, it must be… "Paper, I believe. Thicker than the ones you'd find in human books, although I suppose that wouldn't mean much to you." He hums. "How about this— they're much sturdier than the leaf paper that we use, and it needs to be able to hold its shape under prolonged bending. I've never been able to find a suitable alternative here in Pixie Hollow, though."
Senku answers near immediately. "So then I'll make you some. Fairy sized, human style playing cards."
Gen narrows his eyes. "Can you really do it, dear Senku?" he asks lowly. "If I help you, and you don't fulfill your end of the bargain, I can make your life very unpleasant."
Senku snorts. "You're worried about me not keeping my end of the deal? Don't worry. I can do it, ten billion percent. Even if no other fairy can." His voice is matter of fact, as if the idea of not being able to do it never even crossed his mind. Senku is insane. "I don't make promises I can't keep."
His confidence is baffling. He doesn't even know the logistics behind making playing cards, or what they even look like, and yet, he is convinced that he can make them for Gen.
Senku leans back against the workbench, arms crossed. "I'll need you to tell me more about them, of course. If you could bring me one to look at, that would be even better. Actual data beats guessing each time. But I can do it."
Well, Gen thinks. Might as well see how this plays out. The moment this stops working out for him, he can call it. He's somewhat fallen in line with what Senku wants, but he's confident enough in his abilities that if push comes to shove, he can easily manipulate the situation back in his favor.
And truthfully, Gen is a bit interested in seeing how this will all play out. He lets his expression twist back to his usual, passive smile. "So then, dear Senku. What do you need me to do?"