Archive of Our Own

The days following the depetrification in Araxá are a stark contrast to the days leading up to it.

Thinking back to the time they spent frantically setting up camp and testing out the petrification devices in preparation for Stanley’s assault, Gen can hardly believe the cheery air that fills the village now. They’re back on track with their mission to the moon, and even dear old Xeno has agreed to help them out. The chase is over, and the Kingdom of Science, despite many of the members still encased in stone across the ocean, is making great strides. Save one of them members having aged a few years, all is as it once was.

Right, that’s what Gen wants to think, anyway.

Something has changed within him, and he suspects it’s changed within all of them. A few brushes with death have taken their toll, evident in the increase of hushed conversations, the lingering touches, the check-ins happening amongst their friends. A sort of melancholy tenderness and reminder of how, though the petrification device brought them back, they’d all been the victims of a merciless slaughter.

Maybe Gen is projecting. After all, he’d witnessed a great deal of the bloodshed, so it would make sense for him to have a… heightened sensitivity to his own mortality in the wake of their depetrification.

But then again, perhaps not. Ukyo has been alert and jumpy to any kind of loud noise. Kohaku, Tsukasa, and Hyoga are practically glued at the hip. When Ryusui slings his arms around anyone’s shoulders, he stays there longer than he used to.

Every little mannerism, Gen catalogues. Every alteration to routine, he takes notice. All the while, he eyes Xeno with mistrust.

Gen trusts Senku. Implicitly. He knows that every decision their fearless leader has made ultimately sends them hurtling towards the best outcome. He’s not one to accept a loss, not when there’s even a sliver of a chance of success. Some find his merciless optimism aggravating. Gen has always loved it, even if it has shaved a few years off his life.

But this time things are different.

“An interesting decision, depetrifying Xeno,” Gen muses one night, folding his yukata neatly on the ground. Though they haven’t officially divvied up living spaces yet, he’s gone ahead and invited himself into Senku’s hut, just as their arrangement had been back in Ishigami village.

“Do you disagree? We need him to build that rocket,” Senku replies, unfazed by Gen making himself at home.

“No, I suppose not. I would’ve waited a bit longer. Consulted the rest of the group maybe,” Gen explains, keeping his tone light and neutral. “We were all slaughtered because of him, after all. Even if most of the group stayed conscious for seven years, those memories ought to be pretty fresh.”

Senku freezes where he had been unfolding his bedding, finally looking over at Gen from his corner of the room. The air turns heavy. Oh well. Gen had tried to keep it light, but at the end of the day, there was no skirting around the seriousness of their situation. The emotions that are still running high.

“You should speak freely, Mentalist. If you think I was wrong to bring him back, just say so.”

Gen sighs. He supposes there are no games to be played around Senku. They’re far too familiar at this point, and Gen can’t bring himself to hide his frustration anyway.

“I think…” Gen starts carefully, “that objectively, we need his brain to accomplish our goals. Building a rocket from scratch is going to require more than one eak-fray genius. And sure, he wasn’t the one to directly blow Taiju up, or blow Ryusui’s chest open, or shoot you twice, might I remind you. But he has been the mastermind behind all those actions, and I have no doubt his loyalties will forever lie with his husband over the wellbeing of humanity.”

“You think he’s going to depetrify Stanley and have us mowed down again.”

“Perhaps,” Gen hums. “As far as I’m concerned, Stanley is the knife we gave Xeno to harvest rubber. A tool on the best days and a deadly weapon on the worst. I don’t think he’d shoot us down now, not since the odds aren’t stacked in his favor. But later, perhaps. When he’s run out of use for us. Do recall that, despite knowing his husband was perfectly safe with us, he still found it fit to commit mass murder.”

Senku doesn’t respond for a moment, his eyes seemingly picking apart Gen’s mind and words.

“You’re afraid,” he finally says.

Well duh. Of course Gen is afraid. He’s terrified. He wants to go back to when he wasn’t worried about being hunted down and executed like an animal. He sees Xeno’s value, but can’t look past his actions. He’d like a good night’s sleep, just one. In the week or so since being depetrified, he’s either tossed and turned the entire way through the night or woken up feeling like he’d just run a marathon.

“What makes you say that?” He asks, nonetheless uneager to show Senku any sign of weakness. He presses down the irritation. 

“Your right hand,” Senku says, and Gen looks down to see that he’s subconsciously grabbed his side. “That’s where you were shot, right?”

Gen purses his lips. He hates being caught. More specifically, he hates how easy it is to be caught by Senku. Gen let his guard down without even realizing it.

“Looks like you got me!” Gen says cheerfully. “I wasn’t very fond of getting shot, or watching my friends die, or even getting kidnapped way back when. Is Senku-chan surprised?”

“Not at all,” Senku admits, walking over to sit closer to Gen. He drops to the ground with an exhausted sigh. “I didn’t exactly love it myself. But even so, if we’re getting to the moon, we need Xeno.”

“We won’t get to the moon in the first place if he betrays us, and we have every reason to suspect he will,” Gen snaps. Senku is being a little bit too blasé for his own good, and Gen is more than willing to reel him in a bit. “He doesn’t have to honor our deal to not charge them with war crimes if he simply kills us before the courts even come back.”

“Mentalist,” Senku cuts in, setting his hand on Gen’s shoulder. Gen flinches violently on instinct. They both freeze.

Gen has never done that before. Gen has never shied away from Senku’s touch, much less reacted so… intensely. He releases a breath, imploring his body to relax.

Senku continues, softer this time, “I know all this. I’ve thought of those exact possibilities and ran the numbers. And I know Xeno. I have for a long time. My gut says we’re okay. But if you think it’s not safe, we’ll figure out a better contingency. One word from you and I’ll rewrite the whole thing. But I need you to be certain. As our Mentalist, do you think Xeno will try to kill us again?”

 The trust in Senku’s statement is a slap across the face, and only now does Gen realize how worked up he’s gotten. He’s being asked for his expertise, not his personal feelings on the matter. Objectivity is more important.

Gen rolls all the factors around in his head, quietly thinking for a minute. He pushes his anger and exhaustion away, if just for a moment.

He stands by the point that Xeno and Stanley could decide to kill them at one point, but that’s just an assumption.

The guns are gone, if not thrown into a river by Suika, certainly lost to nature over time. If they wanted to shoot the Kingdom of Science again, they’d have to find their weapons first. As far as hand to hand combat goes, the Kingdom of Science is at the advantage.

Even if Xeno wanted to depetrify Stanley, he’d have to get his hands on the revival fluid first, which is a heavily guarded resource. It shouldn’t be ruled out that he could privately create more, but it’s not guaranteed.

The other factor to consider is whether or not Xeno still wants to dispose of them. It’s the most subjective factor, and the most difficult to parse through.

Xeno had organized and directed their final stand. Throughout the weeks that he got to know the Kingdom of Science, to see up close and personal that they posed no threat to him, Xeno still, in the end, gave the order to shoot them down. ‘Enemies’, civilians, and children alike.

There was no formal proclamation of remorse in the end, but Gen can’t forget the look in Xeno’s face shortly before Ryusui was shot; the wonder and indecision. Then the admission of defeat before he was turned to stone.

None of this absolves Xeno of the atrocities he committed, but they aren’t talking about forgiveness right now. They’re searching for clues on his intentions.

Maybe Gen could question Xeno himself, use his own tricks for detecting lies to find out if the bastard is going to stab them in the back, but he’d already done one when making the plea deal. He hadn’t detected any cracks then.

The uncomfortable truth, despite the rock in Gen’s stomach, was that Xeno appeared genuine in his support of their mission. While the possibility stands that he could sabotage the rocket construction, given his respect for intellect and insatiable thirst for scientific progress, Gen doesn’t believe it feasible that he’ll try. Simply put, Xeno can’t resist a science experiment, be it bubbles or a moon landing.

The final factor to consider still has his hand on Gen’s shoulder.

Senku isn’t the type to make decisions based on sentimentality. Despite being betrayed by his teacher and long standing pen pal, Senku has been dogged in combating Xeno’s crazed desire for ultimate power. His trust in Xeno’s reliability is based on reason and experience, not leftover fondness.

Gen suppresses a smile. It’s funny, the way he and Senku toss trust back and forth in these conversations.

“No,” Gen says at last, “I don’t believe our dear Xeno has any intention of betraying us. Not anymore. Though I am quite loath to admit it.”

Senku grins, fierce and determined, a liveliness glittering in his eyes like no other.

“Alright, then. We’ll keep Xeno on board. Maybe make a couple more contingency plans, just in case. Sound good to you?”

For the first time that night, Gen’s smile is genuine.

“Very well, Senku-chan.”

They bed down for the night, Gen on one side of the hut, Senku on the other. Rest is of the utmost importance, with their loftiest project yet sitting in front of them. Senku is a quiet sleeper, and so is Gen, so their arrangement works quite well.

Tonight, however, something is different.

Gen has had a nightmare or two before over the past few years. It’s a bit hard not to, with the stressors of civilization being gone and the high intensity situations they’ve been through, but those times are nothing like this.

In the throes of sleep, Gen relives the terror of their last stand. He sees the deaths he was personally witness to, then he sees the bodies of those he wasn’t, then he sees himself, bloodied and crawling on the ground, trying to reach a downed Senku as the sky turns green. He feels the pain of his heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline pumping, the dirt beneath his nails as he drags his body across the ground after being shot.

When he wakes, it’s with a gasp and a sharp wrench in his chest that sends him shooting upright in his cot. The abrupt change in scenery is disorienting, and with shaking hands, he checks for the wound at his side, only for his hands to come back dry.

The gunfire and explosions are gone, the night is quiet, and he is, despite what his body tells him, safe.

Gen exhales shakily, tears pricking at the edges of his eyes, and glances around the hut.

It’s still dark out, and several feet away, Senku sleeps soundly with his back to Gen. With the dim light of the moon, he sees Senku’s back expand and retract, and feels a silly sense of relief.

For a moment, Gen tries to convince himself to lay back down and shut his eyes. He’ll be working like a dog come daylight, and chances to sneak off and fit in a nap will be nil.

Then he blinks, and sees Ryusui falling with a spray of blood, a flash of terror behind his eyelids. 

It seems like shut-eye is going to be no help whatsoever. Gen feels a pull in his chest, a compulsion that’s altogether childish and nonsensical. He hesitates twice before getting up.

Gen quietly pads across the hut, careful not to rouse Senku, and ducks out the door, sneaking out into their little makeshift village. 

This is eepy-cray, he thinks as he watches his steps to ensure he isn’t making much noise. At the center of their village is a campfire, where much of the Kingdom of Science is curled up on scrapped-together sleeping bags until they can get a few more huts up.

Everyone is asleep, and the campfire has burned down to embers, but by the light of the moon, Gen can see what he needs to soothe his mind.

Taiju and Ryusui, sleeping soundly. Gen counts the rest of his friends, identifying them by the tops of their heads. They’re all just sleeping, some snoring, all alive and not laying in puddles of their own blood, or running for their lives as the entire place is set aflame.

Gen lets out a sigh of relief. This is completely illogical, and utterly creepy, but he needed this. He can go back to sleep and never worry about this again.

And so he does, and though his sleep is fitful, and not deep in the slightest, he makes it through the rest of the night, a bit sluggish in the morning. He chalks the terrifying nightmare up to his recent stress and tries to put it out of mind.

If only life were so kind.

Gen is woken up by nightmares no less than five more times in the next week. Not the regular kind, either, but the kind that makes the prospect of falling back to sleep a chore, if not an impossibility altogether.

He can’t help himself, he repeats the routine when all is quiet, checking to see that his friends are alive before returning to bed. It comforts him, somewhat, to have that visual proof. It almost fills him with a sense of duty, with Xeno now fully integrated into the Kingdom of Science. Someone has to be a little paranoid, and it seems that someone is going to be Gen.

There are some nights, however, when this isn’t an option, when Senku stays up late into the night and even early into the morning at his makeshift desk in the corner, writing down calculation after calculation for the moon launch, notes for food and accommodation necessities, and who knows what else.

These nights are easier, frankly. Gen will wake, turn towards the light, and see that not only is Senku alive and breathing, but awake and not sounding off any alarms. Gen doesn’t even try to sneak off, regardless of how absorbed in his work Senku may seem. He just forces down the need to check and tries to sleep again, reassuring himself that if things go haywire, Senku will wake him first.

One would think that maybe after so many repetitions, he’d get used to it. Adapt. But no, Gen’s mind finds unique ways to make every nightmare a bit worse than the last, each subconscious tale a bit bloodier, a bit louder with screams and shots. He wakes with a start each time, his heart thrumming away, his most base instincts screaming at him to run, to hide, to take what’s dearest to him and take them as far away as possible.

It’s showing in the daytime too. Gen zones out more often, he’s noticing circles darkening beneath his eyes, and he feels even weaker than he usually does. Many of his friends ask after his well being, and he successfully brushes them off, not wanting to worry them or slow down operations. He redirects flawlessly to make those conversations not about him, and voilá, crisis averted.

It isn’t until the third week that the jig is up.

With dinner served and nightly stories told, Gen is once again going through his usual pre-bedtime rituals when Senku, sitting at his desk, says it out loud.

“When you’re out doing your rounds tonight, you mind grabbing me some agave? We need more for soap,” he says, stopping Gen dead in his tracks.

“When I’m doing my what?” Gen asks, more meekly than he intends.

Senku sets his graphite down and turns to face Gen properly, his expression entirely casual.

“When you go out to check on the crew,” he clarifies. “You know, after your nightmares.”

Gen’s mouth falls open. He could’ve sworn Senku was asleep every time. Was he just pretending? How did he manage to fool Gen of all people?

A million clever excuses evaporate in Gen’s mind, but Senku mercifully doesn’t let him flounder.

“Look, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I just kept waiting for you to bring it up to me, and you didn’t, so here we are.” Senku scratches the back of his head and looks away. Gen doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Is this Senku’s way of trying to say that Gen can talk to him?

“How did you know?” Gen finds himself asking before anything else.

Senku shrugs. “Getting my brain to shut off and actually sleep is damn near impossible sometimes, so I’m usually awake anyways. You’ll mutter on occasion. Toss and turn a bit. Wasn’t hard to connect the dots.”

Gen presses his palms to his eyes and sighs deeply, embarrassed despite Senku’s blasé attitude. He’d fully intended to not make this anyone else’s problem but his own.

“You dream about that night before we got petrified, I assume.”

Once again, Senku’s bluntness surprises Gen. He really should be used to it by now.

“I do,” he says slowly. Then he peppers in lightly, “It was a night to remember, that’s for sure.”

Senku just nods. He seems to consider something for a long moment.

“I dream about it too, sometimes.”

Gen is sure there isn’t a single member of their group that doesn’t dream of it at this point, but the admission is surprising to hear from Senku. Hell, any expression of vulnerability is a rare event from the man.

“Oh? Are you avoiding nightmares by staying up late? That’s not very healthy, Senku-chan.”

Senku scoffs. “No. I mean I don’t think so. I have work to do anyway, so it’s kind of a two birds with one stone situation. I don’t have to see the consolidated memories, plus I’m being productive.”

“Is that how you justify it?” Gen muses.

“Hey, at least I’m not hiding it.”

That makes Gen frown. He’s not about to take lip from the king of compartmentalizing and keeping his emotions bottled up. He huffs and lays out his sleeping mat, turning his back on Senku to let him know that he’s ruined their little heart to heart.

“Well, it’s really none of your business how I deal with the nightmares, is it?” Gen says breezily. “My coping method works about as well as yours, it seems, so neither of us have a right to cast judgment, am I right?”

There’s a long pause before Senku answers, “Right.”

Neither of them speak for the rest of the night, but Gen does stir slightly not long after drifting off to see Senku extinguishing the candles at his desk and turning in for the night.

He dreams of nothing that night, but only because he tosses and turns, all the while wondering if Senku is listening for him the whole time.

Two nights later, Gen wakes, a scream caught in his throat, to the feeling of a hand on his wrist and a familiar voice.

“–just a dream, Gen. Wake up.”

Shaking slightly, he turns to see Senku lying next to him with a gentle grip on his arm. Senku looks half asleep, hair tousled, but his red eyes remain trained on Gen. 

Gen says nothing at first as he struggles to recover, the conscious world coming back into focus. Senku’s fingers may as well burn an imprint into Gen’s wrist. After a moment, he registers that Senku has moved his cot to be closer to Gen’s. Probably easier to reach over and wake him this way.

“Thanks. Sorry,” he says hoarsely. Instinctually, Gen flushes with embarrassment, but Senku doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

“What was it this time?”

“Huh?”

“Your dream,” Senku prompts. “Is it just memories, or…?”

“Oh,” Gen says, feeling somewhat remiss as Senku retracts his hand. The moments after a nightmare have Gen craving touch more than he normally would. “Sort of. It’s usually just replays of that night, but worse. Sometimes the Corn City team is there too. Sometimes Suika dies.” His voice cracks on the last word, and Gen quickly clears his throat, trying to hold it together. “I feel like a scared child. So stupid,” he laughs, humorless.

“It’s not. It’s your brain processing the memories.”

“I think I’ve had more than enough processing to last a lifetime.”

Senku snorts at that. “You’re probably right.”

Gen hesitates, wondering if he should just let them both go back to sleep, but the quiet of the night begs for the truth.

“They’re not always memories. Sometimes they’re just sick imaginings of what could be,” he says so softly he wonders if Senku even hears him. “The other night I dreamt I was right here, and Xeno had depetrified Stanley, and they were finishing the job.”

He doesn’t mention the fire, the impossibly loud explosions and gunshots that play, a taste of the memories rehashed again. He doesn’t mention Stanley breaking down the door of their hut and shooting Senku in the back of his head as he worked at his desk. He doesn’t mention the way he’d screamed and sobbed in the dream, hands slippery as he tried to hold Senku’s head together.

“Xeno’s a man of his word. Besides, doing that wouldn’t serve himself or Stanley in the slightest. They’d have nothing to gain from it,” Senku replies, ever the logical one. A sweet gesture, to intellectualize the absurdity of a nightmare.

“That makes no difference,” Gen replies. He’s argued with his subconscious plenty of times to know that it changes nothing.

“No, I guess not,” Senku says, a tinge of frustration in his voice. “The posterior cingulate cortex doesn’t give a damn if your dreams don’t make sense.”

Gen breathes out a laugh at that, and then yawns, the exhaustion pulling at his eyes.

“Go back to sleep, Gen,” Senku tells him. “Ten billion percent, Xeno’s not depetrifying anyone tonight. He has no clue where the stuff is anyway. No one is gonna get hurt.”

It sounds so simple, coming from Senku. Factual. And even though Gen knows it won’t stop the nightmares that have been terrorizing him forever, it feels like tonight, for once, maybe he can lay his head to rest.

When he shuts his eyes next, there is nothing.

They fall into a strange routine.

Some nights, the dreams are less terrifying than they are stressful, and he wakes up with a small start instead of a jolt of terror. On the worst nights, Senku’s hand will find its way to Gen’s wrist. They don’t always talk the way they did the first time. Often, Gen will simply zero in on the feeling of Senku’s touch, pull himself back together, and try to return to sleep. More and more often, Senku leaves his hand there, and Gen won’t feel the gentle release of his grip until morning. 

He notices that Senku doesn’t even bother with subtlety anymore, moving his cot to be right next to Gen’s permanently. This sometimes results in both of them shifting closer through the night without meaning to– Gen’s foot pressing against Senku’s leg, or Senku’s arm splayed over Gen’s chest. It would be sweet if it weren’t so mortifying. The last thing Gen wants Senku to think of him as is some clingy, lovestruck teenager who needs cuddles to sleep. What’s more, Gen finds that his sleep is actually, mercifully, improving.

Gen is almost grateful for the juvenile distraction of his crush, as they decide to depetrify nearly all of Xeno’s allies in order to get some more muscle back in their ranks. This decision comes with much less controversy than Xeno’s depetrification, as Gen has no desire to do any more heavy lifting than absolutely necessary.

The Americans, to their credit, are immediately helpful, and frankly more chipper in their duties than what seems sane, but with the guns long gone, Gen isn’t really worried about a surprise coup.

His trust in Xeno has strengthened somewhat, despite the man being the very source of all his night terrors. Looking past his transgressions is necessary to further their cause, but it doesn’t go past Gen’s notice that when Xeno is on their side, he blends surprisingly well with their group.

Gen finds himself caught between the version of Xeno that carefully explains superalloys to Gen and his friends, and the version of Xeno that haunts his nightmares, ordering their execution. It’s bizarre and confusing, but Gen tries very hard to give the man the new lease on trust they’d given him in their deal.

The two versions wage war in his head, and Gen nearly drives himself mad at night trying to choose which is the real Xeno. He finds solace in staring at Senku’s chest rising and falling, reminding himself repeatedly of their conversation from a couple weeks back, letting the echo of Senku’s promise lull him back to sleep.

When a nightmare shake him awake later that night —thankfully nothing too disruptive enough to wake Senku— Gen reaches for Senku on instinct alone, and the simple act of finding his steady pulse on his wrist sends him down a completely different spiral: The unshakable notion that this feeling Gen has kept inside him for years is, undeniably, love.

One night, Gen wakes up. No terrible, clinging fear wrecking his brain to shake him awake, but something else jostling him.

A consequence of both of them drawing closer over the last few weeks, limbs usually tangled up by morning, is that any movement by one is detectable by the other. Senku tends not to toss and turn in his sleep, so Gen, with the obvious exceptions, sleeps fine most nights. 

So it isn’t Gen’s panic that wakes him, but a twitching of limbs, and as he opens his eyes, mildly disdained to find that it definitely isn’t morning yet, he’s somewhat surprised when he turns his head.

The movements are slight, but from the moonlight, the pain in Senku’s face is evident. Eyes screwed shut, brows pinched together, and a tiny sheen of sweat on his forehead are indicators enough. What’s more are the twitches in his muscles, the way his head occasionally jerks one way, and the unintelligible mumbles falling from his lips.

Gen is frozen for a moment, somewhat entranced. Senku has mentioned that he too has nightmares, but part of Gen thought that was a fabrication in an attempt to empathize. Now, clearly, he sees he was mistaken.

Senku flinches again and Gen feels it. There’s real pain in his face, in his body, and Gen can hardly stand it. Heaven knows there’s plenty of terrifying memories for Senku to dredge up.

“Dad,” Senku murmurs, jerking his head to the side. Gen’s heart shatters in his chest. Is this what Senku has been seeing all these nights? No wonder he’d woken Gen up. He can’t take another moment of seeing his friend in pain.

“Senku,” Gen whispers, using the hand that had already been resting on his arm and gently tracing his fingers over Senku’s skin. “Wake up. It’s just a dream.”

He stirs, but doesn’t wake fully, so Gen props himself up on his side. Hesitating for just a second, he runs his knuckles down the side of Senku’s face.

“Senku-chan,” he repeats himself, a bit louder. “It’s okay.”

Senku’s struggling stops at last as his eyes flutter open, his chest expanding as he sucks in a deep breath.

“You’re alright,” Gen says. He tries to be soothing, the way that Senku is. 

Their eyes meet, and the fear drains from Senku’s face, replaced with a tired understanding.

Gen doesn’t move his hand away from Senku’s face. His thumb runs over the ridge of Senku’s cheekbone, and Senku sighs, relaxing into the touch.

“Damn,” he croaks, looking more worn than ever. His own hand reaches up to cover Gen’s keeping it there.

“Are you okay?” Gen asks, even though the question feels dumb. Senku nods.

“Sorry for waking you.”

Gen snorts. “You should know we’re past apologies about this stuff. Do you want to talk about it?”

Senku’s face pinches into disdain. “Not really. But uh. Actually, I think I get it now.”

“Get what?”

“Your walks. Checking in to see if everyone’s… you know.”

It takes a moment for Gen to understand what he’s referencing, before it clicks in his mind. Oh.

“Do you want to go? I’ll come with you.”

“Kinda, yeah. I don’t think I can really go back to sleep until I know, I guess.” There’s a discomfort in Senku’s tone, as if he’s aware that normally he doesn’t speak so openly about his feelings. Maybe something about the night strips him of his filter. Gen doubts he’ll get any more insight tonight. He takes his hand away from Senku’s face, finding that he isn’t even feeling sleepy anymore.

“Let’s go, then.”

Their walk through the camp is silent, neither one of them wanting to wake any of their friends. Gen leads, taking Senku on his usual ‘route’ from hut to hut, with a brief glimpse through every window to confirm that the mundane remains intact. They find the warrior team by the embers of a fire as usual, huddled up in a pile the way Kohaku had described.

With every step, Gen can feel the anxiety start to leave Senku, his hesitancy slipping away as he’s reassured by the sight of his sleeping friends. 

The night air is cool and pleasant, with a lot of the usual Amazonian humidity not yet in full force, and the moon shines bright to light their path. It surprises Gen, however, when Senku indicates a path leading away from their camp, a question in his eyes. An invitation to continue their walk beyond its original purpose. Gen is surprised to find himself perfectly awake, no need to crawl back in his cot yet, so he follows Senku down the path.

They walk down the winding path, through patches of trees, and listen to the bugs and frogs sing. The forest is anything but quiet at night, and even without the sunlight to illuminate everything, the place is still bursting with color.

“Do you know where you’re going?” Gen asks once they’re far enough away from the camp. “Or are you about to get us both hopelessly lost in the middle of the Amazon?”

Senku snorts, casting him an annoyed glance. “You seriously think I’d get us into a situation that dumb?”

“Maybe,” Gen hums with a smile that only grows when Senku elbows him. “When do you even have time to make trips away from home, anyhow? I thought your schedule was filled to the brim with rocket science.”

“Well, a certain Mentalist harps on me about taking breaks a lot,” Senku replies. “So when Xeno and I get stuck on something, I go for a walk to clear my head for a bit. There are some pretty neat spots out here when you’re not neck deep in work.”

“Ishigami Senku taking in the sights. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Don’t overthink it.”

“Me? Overthink? Never.”

That earns another breathy laugh from Senku, who pulls back on some tree branches to let them both through. Their forest path opens up a bit to reveal a dropoff. They’re in a hilly region, with a nice view of the sprawling forest stretching for miles. The moon is a brilliant, glowing lantern in the sky, casting cool light on the canopies below. Gen wonders if Why-Man is watching them right now as he walks in stride with Senku.

Senku stops at a clearing, crawling to sit on top of a boulder that overlooks it all. Gen trails after him, his eyes landing on something else entirely.

Crawling up the surrounding trees in vines are bright white flowers, round small enough to fit in the palm of Gen’s hand. Plucking one, he recalls it to be a moonflower, and carries it with him as he sits down next to Senku.

Feeling Senku’s curious gaze, Gen offers the delicate thing, gently setting it in Senku’s palm.

“Moonflower, or ipomoea alba. Known for only blooming at night,” Gen says. Senku examines it for a moment.

“The process is called nocturnal anthesis. Some flowers bloom at night to attract nocturnal pollinators and decrease competition for resources. Sometimes it’s to preserve moisture lost from extreme heat in the daytime.”

“They tend to symbolize mystery, transformations, and love,” Gen adds, brushing his finger against one of the delicate petals. Funny how they both create a complete picture of the little thing.

Senku snorts softly. “They all symbolize love.”

“Not all,” Gen corrects with a smirk. “You recall my favorite, don’t you?”

“How could I forget?” Senku rolls his eyes. “Really had a flair for the dramatics, pulling out nightshade just so you could tell Hyoga you were lying.”

“I impressed you, though,” Gen replies, and when Senku doesn’t immediately deny it, his heart skips a beat.

“At that point it was rare to meet another person who knew brains ten billion percent beats brawn.”

“Oh? So you finally admit mentalism and cleverness take brains? That they can stand on the same level as your physical sciences?”

“Don’t get too carried away.”

Gen laughs, finding himself leaning into Senku a bit as he does.

“You at least have to admit, they pair well together,” he says, the sleep deprivation causing his usual mask to slip, the softness seeping into his voice.

Senku seems to be victim of the same thing. He doesn’t move as Gen leans against him. Neither of them have put this thing they have into words yet. Gen finds he’s alright with that.

“Yeah. They do.”

“Surely you notice how eird-way this is,” Gen sighs to Kohaku as they sit on a hill overlooking Xeno and Senku chatting animatedly, with several members of the power team dragging out parts for a miniature rocket. It’s an odd mish mash of Xeno’s people and the Kingdom of Science.

Sure, Gen had been the one to sit everyone down and do some diplomacy, informing the Americans of the deal they struck with Xeno, laying down some ground rules, and even organizing some team building activities to soothe any tensions— he just hadn’t expected it to work this well.

A month has passed since depetrifying the Americans, and Taiju and Maya are workout buddies. Charlotte had practically thrown herself at Suika and Francois’ feet, thanking them for saving her life and begging forgiveness. Ryusui and some of the soldiers have exchanged sea shanties. Xeno has frequently lectured Suika on lab safety and PPE, going so far as to personally make her hair ties to make sure it never snags on their machines. 

They aren’t entirely free of a bit of tension from time to time, but no fights have broken out at all.

Kohaku shoots Gen a sideways grin.

“Oh absolutely. If there’s anything I know about humans, it’s that by all means, we should’ve torn each other to shreds by now,” she muses. “But with those two working together, it becomes pointless to squabble. We all have the same goals now.”

“It’s hard to believe we tried to kill each other, looking at us now,” Gen adds. “I haven’t detected any signs of significant dissidence. It’s amazing.” He’d been bracing himself for the worst. Hell, he’s been bracing himself for the worst ever since Suika poured the revival fluid on him. Slowly, hesitantly, he’s learning to relax.

“You look better,” Kohaku says abruptly.

Gen blinks curiously before flashing her a smile. “Oh dear. I try to keep my appearance up to a high standard even in the stone world. Have I not been meeting Kohaku’s expectations? I’ll have to have Senku craft me some makeup.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Kohaku huffs with a roll of her eyes. “I mean you actually look awake and present. A lot of us have been worried about you, you know.”

That takes Gen aback. He has got to start retraining his poker face if the sleep deprivation is showing this much. Then again, he doesn’t hate the notion that his friends have been looking after him. Maybe sharing a tiny bit of the truth wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about, just some trouble sleeping at night. It’s gotten better in the last few weeks.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Kohaku smiles, gently bumping her shoulder into his. “What changed?”

Gen’s weaving almost falters as phantom memories of Senku’s hands on his wrist and their feet tangled up dance through his mind. He recovers with lightning speed, though, and maintains his pace.

Maybe not the whole truth, he thinks as his face grows a bit warm.

“Time” he lies. “A few years in the stone screwed with my circadian rhythm, that’s all.”

“Oh? Is it the same for Senku, then?”

“What do you mean?”

Kohaku levels him with a look. “Don’t think I don’t know about your little sleeping arrangement. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes.”

Gen’s face heats up and her face lights up in a devious smile.

“We’re not– we’re not sleeping together, Kohaku-chan, merely the same hut, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t go spreading falsehoods around!” he thrusts a finger in her smug face, properly flushed now. “There’s nothing uncouth going on and I don’t need any weird looks!”

“Easy, Gen,” she laughs. “Your secret is safe with me. I’ve just come to wake you both a couple mornings and found you tangled up, so I was wondering if anything had changed.”

Gen lets out a sigh, relaxing a bit. In the very least, Kohaku’s word is a powerful thing.

“No,” he says, “nothing’s changed, unless you count the actual sleeping troubles. Senku has been… helpful. I suppose it’s nice to have someone within reach when you spend all your sleeping hours reaching for injured loved ones in your mind.”

The teasing gleam in Kohaku’s eye disappears, fading to something more sincere.

“Makes sense,” she says, softer this time. “Believe it or not, I haven’t spent a single night away from Tsukasa and Hyoga. It would feel wrong, and I just… I need to know that they’re there. After everything.”

“I’m starting to think we’re all feeling that way,” Gen sighs. He’s no licensed psychologist, so it might not be a bad idea to depetrify one sometime soon.

“There’s nothing to worry about, though,” Kohaku says. “If anything goes sideways, we’ll protect everyone.”

It’s sickening how happy she seems about that, how oblivious she is to that very sentiment making him worry even more. He can still feel the phantom nausea rolling in his stomach from back then, when he’d realized that their warrior trio had been gunned down, helpless to find and save them.

Gen doesn’t want their protection. He wants a world where he never has to exercise that as an opportunity. He wants whatever strange, peaceful arrangement they’ve figured out to hold strong, forever if possible.

“Kohaku, dear,” he says, taking her hand in his. “I’ll only stop worrying once you and Hyoga and Tsukasa never have to worry about protecting us ever again.”

“Sounds boring.”

Below them, Suika’s high pitched laugh carries over the wind as Maya lifts her on top of her shoulders, allowing the teen to screw in some bolts on the model rocket. Gen smiles.

“Believe it or not, boring times are something you learn to be grateful for.”

A warm front comes in, bringing the consequences of spring with it. Considering their location, the Kingdom of Science spends the late afternoon shielding their more delicate equipment and supplies from the approaching monstrous storm. Even the power team resolves to spend the night in their hut instead of beneath the stars.

Gen and Senku settle down for a quiet evening, and when Gen turns in first as he always does, he has no reason to believe this night will be any different than the others. He falls asleep quickly, not stirring even when Senku lays down next to him to follow suit.

Then, the storm arrives.

Just like everything else they’ve encountered in South America, the storm is nothing to be trifled with. Rain pours down in sheets, lightning crackles and dances in constant flashes, but worst is the thunder, roaring and crashing and bellowing.

Gen dreams of bombs and light, and he wakes to bombs and light, and this time when he wakes, the danger is real, and he doesn’t stop the scream being ripped out of him.

It’s real. Their hut is shaking and the light from the explosions are illuminating the walls, and every terrible thought he’d had about Xeno and Stanley seeking revenge howls with vindication. There are screams outside the hut, shadows dancing with every flash of light of his friends running away, flailing, falling.

Gen fights the blankets, wailing as his entire body pumps adrenaline. His friends are being bombed and it’s happening again and he has to do something.

Before he can scramble to his feet, his arms are seized, which only makes him scream louder. Gen can't see much in the dark, less with his vision bleary from sleep, but he’s sure it’s Stanley holding him down, keeping him in place while Gen’s loved ones die. He thrashes violently.

“It’s a storm, Gen.”

“No!” Gen screams. He has to find his friends. He has to do something. “No!”

“Gen. Everything’s okay.”

He has to find Senku. Someone has to tell Senku that they’re being attacked again. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t get ripped apart by bullets again. Senku has to—

“Senku!”

“I’m right here. It’s thunder and rain. It’s not going to hurt you. Listen.”

It’s not Stanley’s voice. It’s Senku’s.

It’s Senku. It’s not Stanley. The noise isn’t the same as the sharp rapping punches of gunfire, but the rumbling of thunder. The sounds of spring.

Gen stops thrashing suddenly, and he finds that he’s only just now opened his eyes. When a flash lights up the room again, it’s Senku kneeling over him, straddling his lap, still holding Gen’s arms to keep him in place.

It’s Senku, but Gen is still heaving out breaths too quickly, tears streaking down his face. It’s Senku, but the whole hut shakes as a terrible boom reverberates, and Gen still cries out, whipping his head around to see through the dark windows, every inch of him trembling.

It’s just thunder, he tells himself, just like Senku has said over and over again, but his body remains unconvinced. Every heartbeat feels like a nail being driven into his chest. Every breath feels too shallow. He can see that there’s no fire through the windows, why does he still feel certain that they’re under attack?

Senku’s hold on Gen’s arms loosen, but he doesn’t move altogether, his thumbs gently stroking Gen’s wrists, just like usual. The sensation sends shivers up Gen’s body, and he gasps in a breath. For a moment, he can think rationally.

There are no explosions. They’re not in any danger. Even if they were, Senku has caged Gen in with his body, physically shielding him from harm.

They’re safe.

Senku leans closer, close enough that their foreheads nearly touch.

“It’s just a storm, Gen,” he murmurs, and it’s the gentlest thing Gen has heard from Senku’s mouth. “Breathe.”

Gen tries to slow his breathing as the world comes somewhat back into focus, the sounds of rain washing away the phantom screams. He concentrates on the feeling of Senku’s hands on his skin, and realizes something.

Senku is trembling too.

Gen blinks away more tears, and with his eyes adjusted, he can see Senku a bit more clearly in the low light. He looks tired, and Gen wonders if his repeated reassurances were just as much for himself as they were for Gen.

Thunder claps again, and both of them violently flinch. It’s more than enough confirmation.

Still weak, and feeble, and shaking, Gen brings up a hand to cup Senku’s face, watching as his eyes widen ever so slightly.

“It’s just a storm,” Gen repeats softly, voice still raw from screaming.

Senku’s face breaks into a grin, and then he’s snickering quietly. Gen fights down a breathless chuckle himself. Here they are, the soon to be saviors of humanity, screaming and panicking all because of a little thunder. It’s every bit absurd as it is terrifying.

Their laughter is short-lived with another crash of thunder.

It must be some kind of delirium that possesses Gen to reach underneath Senku’s nightshirt, barely hearing the hitch in Senku’s breath as his fingers cross over warm skin.

Dry. Ridged in some places with scar tissue, but blessedly, dry. No bullet holes. He finally allows himself to relax, but keeps his hand where it is.

“Does it help?” Senku asks, almost inaudible. In the dim light, Gen can make out the genuine curiosity in his eyes, the vulnerability. It seems almost like he’s consulting Gen for his expertise again, as if Gen is acting out of the informed authority of their resident mentalist and not the desperate, animalistic need to keep Senku as close as he can.

There is no study or principle Gen can think of that tells him why feeling for himself that Senku isn’t still bleeding out quells his worry, but still, he rasps out, “Yes.”

So Senku mirrors Gen’s action. An act of trust, a show of respect for Gen and his handy mentalist knowledge. Senku hesitates several times before he pushes his hand under Gen’s shirt, dragging his fingers over the tender skin and finding purchase at the lower right side of his waist.

Gen’s breathing quivers, the touch almost ticklish, but warm, and reassuring. He’s not ignorant of the intimacy of it all, the territory they’ve crossed into, and the fear of before is muddying, slowly giving way to something more wanting. He can’t look away from Senku’s eyes.

“No bullet holes,” Gen tries for sardonic humor, but the thinness of his voice betrays him, and the joke falls flat. Neither of them pull back. Gen can’t bring himself to, not when every worry that surfaces is quickly soothed by the feeling of Senku’s diaphragm rising and falling under his fingers.

More lightning briefly illuminates the hut and both of them tense, mentally preparing, but still flinching when a thunderclap erupts. Gen’s pulse spikes, and he holds onto Senku a bit tighter.

That’s when Senku’s eyes light up, and he pulls back.

“Hang on,” he tells Gen, pushing himself to his feet.

Gen immediately mourns the loss. He feels exposed and untethered, colder without Senku’s body over his. It’s pathetic, the way he almost begs Senku to come back, watching him cross the room and rifle through his bag just a couple meters away. Gen wraps his arms around himself and breathes.

“Got it,” Senku says, walking back over with a grin and a fistful of…something. Gen sits up as Senku kneels down next to him, opening his palm.

There’s a weird, semi-opaque lump there, and Gen gives Senku a quizzical look.

“It’s wax,” Senku says as he tears it into smaller pieces. “Just knead the pieces a bit and you get instant ear plugs. Solves our thunder problem.” He holds a couple pieces out to Gen.

There’s a barely detectable tinge of pride in Senku’s tone, in the way he sits, leaning slightly towards Gen. Not outwardly excited but not shy either. He’s pleased to have found a problem to solve, a tangible, scientific solution to their dilemma. He’s proud to help, proud to be of use, even for such a minute problem compared to saving humanity. Most wouldn’t notice it —Senku usually conceals his more vulnerable expressions— but Gen does.

Gen always notices.

He takes the bits of wax and does as he’s told, kneading them into smooth pieces and then gently putting one in each ear, as Senku mirrors him.

The sound of the rain disappears as the world is hushed into sweet silence, and Gen releases a huge breath. The relief is immediate, and it must be visible on his face, because Senku is giving him a triumphant smile in response.

Gen is going to thank him, when Senku starts to push off of his knees, trying to stand once more, going, presumably, back to his own cot. Away from Gen. Out of reach.

No.

Panic immediately overtakes Gen, and without thinking, his hand darts out.

He has no idea where Senku intends to go, how far he’s going, or for how long, but the thought of it is, at the moment, unbearable, despite Gen knowing that by all means, he’s perfectly safe.

Which is how Senku ends up back on top of Gen, having barely caught himself from smashing their heads together and placing them in a much more compromising position than before.

Now Senku fully lays on Gen’s lap, his arms braced on either side of Gen’s head, their faces mere centimeters away. They’re both breathing heavily, the surprise kicking up their heart rates again. Gen can feel Senku’s breath on his face. 

He expects Senku to pull away again, to complain about Gen being needy and keeping him from sleep, to do anything to stop this.

But he doesn’t.

They’re both still, and when lightning flashes, for just a brief moment, Gen can see the flush on Senku’s cheeks, his pupils blown wide. Without thinking, Gen puts his hand to the side of Senku’s neck, feeling the fluttering pulse beneath his skin.

Gen’s self-restraint is thinning. He’s always taken great pride in his ability to hold back, to keep his emotions at bay. But his hours of work schooling his expressions and keeping his cards close to his chest were meant for a career in television and performance, not for this strange place he finds himself in today. 

He simply doesn’t have it in him to hide his feelings anymore.

Senku hovers over him for what feels like an eternity, their lips a negligible distance from each other, hesitating, unsure. Gen’s body buzzes, his face hot, and he can hear Senku’s thoughts this close, calculating their exact proximity, measuring the pros and cons of throwing caution to the wind.

Senku wants him too. The very notion is enough to make Gen forget why they’re awake in the first place. Senku wants me too. His mind abuzz, drunk on the thought, he brings his other hand up and places it on Senku’s waist. An invitation, nearly a plea.

They could ruin everything. They could finally give in to their own selfish wants, cross the line while neck-deep in plans to save the world, make it messy, and make it theirs.

 Senku sucks in a breath. Gen stares into his eyes, the silent question hanging in between them. This close, he can feel the warmth coming off Senku’s body, and desperately, Gen wants him closer.

“Gen.”

Gen doesn’t hear Senku say it through the ear plugs, but he feels it in the shaky breath on his skin. The look in his eye has changed. 

Gen understands the warning. The message loaded in his own name.

So he doesn’t close the distance.

“I know,” he whispers, shutting his eyes with resignation.

They can’t. This thing they have is too precious, and the time simply isn’t right. There’s too much work to be done, too many people to manage, and too big a world to leave behind to indulge in their fantasies just yet. Distractions are a privilege they both gave up years ago. To fully cross that line would be a disservice not only to each other, but to everyone who’s counting on them.

Even so, Gen is remorseful when Senku pulls back, shifting so that they lay side by side, noses nearly touching. Gen is selfish, so he links their fingers together, taking as much as Senku will allow him, grateful when he doesn’t pull away.

The storm rages on, but neither take notice.

If they have to wait to be together, so be it. If Gen can’t kiss him tonight, that’s fine.

But please, he thinks, squeezing Senku’s hand, let me keep this. At this point he can’t imagine what it would be like to sleep alone again, to have to wake up in the dead of night by himself. The idea of losing their sleeping arrangement is terrifying, especially when the memories of their fight with Stanley’s soldiers are still fresh.

As though he heard Gen’s prayer, Senku sits up, reaches for the blanket pooled at their feet, and tugs it over them both, settling back down next to Gen. 

“Sleep,” Senku mouths, resting his hand on Gen’s waist. Gen could cry from relief. He settles in, relishing in the warmth beneath the blanket, the sounds of the storm muted, the battle he’s been fighting in his subconscious out of sight and out of mind, with Senku’s fingers still grazing his skin. Gen scootches closer, snaking his arm around Senku. They lay silently, holding each other, tucked away from the storm.

He wants me too, Gen thinks as he lets his eyes close, a pleasant flutter in his stomach, satisfying and vindicating. The time may not be right yet, but no questions are left unanswered.

They sleep.

“Haha! We’ll reach our destination in just one week!” Ryusui declares aboard the New Perseus, to the shocked faces of their little crew. Around them, the wind whips as they cruise across the Atlantic at incredible speeds, South America already getting smaller and smaller on the horizon.

They wasted no time once the ship was built, splitting up the Kingdom of Science to divide and conquer across the globe. With the help of Xeno’s people and the depetrified locals, they’ve made remarkable strides in modern technology in shocking time. All the while, Senku has been talking Gen’s ear off, explaining each step in great detail. Gen, of course, understands very little of it, but knows by now to just nod and smile.

Ryusui continues, “This beauty is equipped with luxuries we didn’t dream possible on our last vessel, so enjoy! Once you’ve put your things away, meet me back up here for the grand tour.”

Chelsea, Kohaku, and Suika chat excitedly as they clamor below deck with the few bundles of belongings they each brought with them, and Gen follows behind, curious about their accommodations.

The first Perseus had been purely functional, with not much more room for luxury other than their bar and mini casino. The crew had mostly been resigned to tight fitting bunks, and even Ryusui and Senku, their leaders aboard the ship, were sequestered to a very small cabin at the end of the hall. It had been a necessary sacrifice back then, but Gen had walked in on more than enough of his friends in the nude to last the rest of his lifetime. He’d like to keep that to a minimum on this ship, thank you very much.

“Kohaku, look! Our rooms are next to each other!” Suika squeals as Gen reaches the bottom of the stairs. True to what he’d suspected, the hall is lined with about a dozen tiny cabins, with doors that close and everything. Peering inside Kohaku’s room, he can see that there are bunk beds in each little room, made to accommodate more crewmen if necessary, but for the small group they’re taking, it looks like everyone has one to themselves.

Gen slowly makes his way down the hallway, seeing that each door has a name taped to the door. Chelsea, Kohaku, Suika, Francois, Chrome, Kaseki, and a few stray members of the power team as well are all labeled. Puzzled, Gen can’t seem to find his own.

He’s starting to worry that he was either an afterthought to this crew, or that he’d be forced to share a bunk with one of the macho military types on Xeno’s power team, when a voice cuts through the hallway.

“Oi, Mentalist. Wrong hall.”

He turns and finds Senku at the base of the stairs, jerking his chin up and gesturing for him to follow. Curiously, Gen obeys.

Just up the stairs is another hall, a smaller corridor with the Captain and Second Mate’s cabins, separate from the rest of the crew but close by, just as it had been on the old Perseus, for Senku and Ryusui. When Senku goes to open his door, he minds Gen’s puzzled face.

“What’s with the look?”

“I just… am I missing something? I haven’t seen a room with my name… You’re not making me sleep in the comms room or something, are you?” Gen asks with a suspicious squint. He wouldn’t put it past Senku to try and squeeze more labor out of Gen despite their more modern accommodations.

Senku rolls his eyes. “No, idiot. Obviously, you’ll be in here.” And then Senku pushes the door to his cabin open, and Gen understands.

Senku’s room is only slightly larger than the others, with a space for a small work desk and a shelf for his tools. But the first thing Gen notices is the bed. It’s no twin bunk bed like the others, but wider in size.

Fit for two.

Despite himself, Gen’s face warms.

“Oh,” he says. This will be their room. Officially. It’s not like it will be different from them sharing a hut back in the village, or in Araxá, but it feels different, probably because Senku had a hand in designing this ship. Senku is purely practical, he’d be perfectly content with a twin bed like everyone else. He designed his own cabin specially to have space for Gen.

The nightmares come with much less frequency lately, and whether it’s because time has done its own natural healing, or because Gen and Senku share a bed, it’s not clear. All Gen knows is that he’s used to sleeping with Senku now, and he doesn’t want to stop, and Senku made his cabin different so that they’d never have to.

“What? If you’d rather take one of the bunk beds, be my guest,” Senku says, shifting from one foot to another. It’s getting extremely hard these days for Gen to hold back from kissing him senseless.

“No, this is perfect, Senku-chan,” Gen says, placing his small knapsack down on the bed. He takes a risk, reaching out and lacing their fingers together, letting it linger for a moment before softly adding, “Thank you.”

Senku smiles to himself, pulling his hand away and turning for the door.

“It’s whatever. We better get back to the others, or Ryusui’s gonna get antsy.”

“Right,” Gen grins. “Wouldn’t want to be late for his grand tour, would we?”

He follows Senku out the door and back up the stairs, fighting down a fond smile as he notices that the tips of Senku’s ears flushed red.