[Dr. Stone] fic: Sensation (oneshot)
Here's my last fic of 2019, a Dr. Stone fic! Rereading Dr. Stone has been a blast. I was also working on a Dragalia Lost fic featuring Curran and Heinwald for my recipient, but that one isn't done yet. Not sure if I'll keep working on it since I haven't gotten very far with it, but I was very happy to match on two fandoms~.
Title: Sensation
Fandom: Dr. Stone
Words: 3,908
Summary: Gen cherishes each sensation he's able to feel again, several of which he never thought he would ever get to feel a second time. He is a mentalist, not an optimist. He hasn't ever considered being able to see the new year again, to feel the cold of the night and the joy of a new day, yet here he is now, on this cliff beside perhaps the most optimistic of them all, dear Senku with his crazy, wild thoughts that he always brings to life.
Notes: for Pluralforce for
yuletide 2019. Asagiri Gen character study, featuring hints of Senku x Gen.
Sensation
--permeation--
He breathes in the cold, deeply, thoroughly, relishing in its intensity, before he releases it. A puff of white trails in the air for but a moment, until he repeats his actions, slowly, gradually, enjoying every second of the biting cold spreading through him. Then, he exhales lazily like a content dragon curled around precious treasure.
Even he knows, however, the simple explanation behind the visibility of his breaths, of the evidence of his existence. It should dispel the magic, yet it doesn't.
Gen's lips quirk up at this elementary phenomenon happening before his eyes, water vapor condensing into small droplets of liquid. Simple but fundamental, warmth bleeding into coldness, chilliness seeping into heat. Simple, yet not a thought that would have surfaced in Gen's mind, 3,700 years in the past. No, the Gen back then would have cared little for the marvels of science past its usefulness in his tricks, not when it was ever present in daily life, a given, a constant; not when pretending to be a cloud-breathing dragon was so much more fun.
(It still is. He is a mentalist, after all. But he can't help how prevalent science is in his thoughts now, thanks to a certain someone.)
He rubs his hands, inviting back the warmth, and tucks what little bit of warmth he has stolen within his billowy sleeves, but it is of little use when his ankles are still exposed to the weather, aching and smarting from the biting cold.
Yet that's just how he likes it. If not for the absolute chilliness of the winter snow below his feet, he would have even chosen to go barefoot, despite the weather.
Perhaps, even more so because of the weather.
He breathes out, watching his breath take shape, right next to another, from the very reason behind the invading thoughts of, "science, science, science!" that spread through him. It is a relentless mantra, an incantation that will save them all, unwavering belief to anchor one's doubts in this familiar yet foreign world.
He doesn't fight against it.
He walks, beside Senku, beside the one who paved this path forward, beside the one Gen chose, when he could have chosen a far easier path. One outlandish invention after another resulted from Senku's wild ambitions, each and every step he took confident and certain, pulling along all those around him, Gen included, creating marvels from what should have been a lost era, reclaiming the genius of years upon years of human cultivation.
Until Senku finally falters, confined by the limits of this stone world.
But that is exactly why Gen is here. He is no scientist, no inventor, no doctor, no hunter. He could make a list of everything he is not, as he has few skills that one would think would help in an apocalyptic world, yet he is also exactly what is needed here when all else is lost. He gets Senku out of that comfy, warm hut and into the biting cold, determined to shake Senku out of this funk that doesn't suit him at all.
Together with Senku, Gen joins the others on the cliff to await the new year, watching the gentle rays of the sun gradually light the sky up, as well as the stone in Suika's hand, shining brightly blue, the beautiful, miraculous solution to Senku's troubles.
The others may be watching the bright blue stone, but Gen's eyes zone in on the exhilaration taking shape in Senku's grin, lighting up his eyes like the true dawn of the new year.
The new year...
It's yet another wild thought for Gen. He is a mentalist, not an optimist. He hasn't ever considered being able to see the new year again, to feel the cold of the night and the joy of a new day, yet here he is now, on this cliff beside perhaps the most optimistic of them all, dear Senku with his crazy, wild thoughts that he always brings to life.
This cliff, shining with hope, full of friends, wrapped by the loving, cold tendrils of winter that makes Gen feel so utterly alive, is as different as different can be from the lonely cliff that greeted Gen upon his introduction to this new world.
--desolation--
When the stone pieces crack and fall from his skin, he wakes to a desolate cliff, a far cry from the lively night scene above a different cliff that awaits his choosing. The plains below him stretch far and wide with not a soul in sight. His hands are raised into the air, guiding his eyes to the blue skies before him, holding him in an exaggerated, ridiculous victory pose that has survived the testament of time.
Asagiri Gen isn't one to give up.
He can breathe. He can feel. He can think. But more than anything, he can talk again.
And so he blabs his first words in this new world.
"Is this a hidden camera show? And my manager didn't stop it? I'm a mentalist, so I'll take it in good stride if they're just doing their job..."
The words flow out of him, each word reviving him further, regardless of how pointless they are. That they have passed through his lips at all is something to celebrate, to cherish.
Who is Asagiri Gen without his words, after all?
With his words restored to him, Gen is back to life. Revived, confused, but himself once more.
Behind him, a mountain of stone statues tower into the sky, hand picked by the would be dictator of this lawless new world. Gen has only met him once, during a TV special on psychological magic. They were both teen celebrities of that lost world, eagerly snatched and hounded by mass media, yet they couldn't have been more different. That one show was the only time their lives intersected back then. Once the show ended, their lives separated once more, never to cross again. Gen never really gave much thought to Tsukasa Shishio after that, despite that he held the title of the strongest high school primate.
Yet here they are now. If not for his manager making that TV special happen, Gen would possibly never have woken up in this new world thousands of years after mankind lost their chance at survival. Dear Tsukasa really only chose him because of that one incidental meeting 3,700 years ago where Gen barely spoke with him yet somehow left enough of an impression to be considered useful.
Gen could very well have remained stuck in stone, if not for that.
This is no prank. There is no hidden camera waiting to capture Gen's folly, to immortalize Gen's discombobulation. He was freed from eternity, chosen really, let loose upon a world that is really only in its infancy, all progress mankind made over the ages reset to zero.
Dear Tsukasa stands with his hands outstretched, but his is no victory pose, beckoning Gen to join him in playing god in this sad, lonely world.
What use is there for words if there is no one around to hear them?
Gen grins fiercely. There is no other response more appropriate to this madness, to what he has awoken to. His bare feet curl below him, toes digging deeply into the dirt, tiny granules of sand scraping against his skin. The sensation of dirt below his feet ground him, and the words that dance at the tip of his tongue reassure him.
He is alive.
Alive.
Alive...
But what of that man that dear Tsukasa wishes for Gen to condemn?
--condemnation--
The box closes above Gen, locking him within the trick, condemning him to darkness as the last sliver of light is sealed away. He gulps and wishes he drank the chilled bottle of cola he left on his dressing table, but now it's too late and too dark. His throat is parched, itchy, his words stuck. That bottle of cola would do wonders.
He loves this trick, but waiting is always a bore. His mind can’t help but play tricks on him as the walls close in and silence wraps around him, leaving behind only shallow, harsh breaths and a pounding heart.
He swallows. He pulls at his collar. He wriggles his feet, almost wishing he could kick his shoes off.
How long has it been? It's almost time, right? Right?
He curls into himself. The darkness is so utterly boring.
A blade slides past. Finally. He guides it through the other side of the box. He sucks in his stomach to avoid the second, and tucks his feet in further for the third, then the fourth and the fifth. There is barely any room left when the sixth slides in right past Gen's head.
A strand of hair falls.
A grin spreads across Gen's face. His heart pounds with adrenaline.
Now is his cue!
"Behold!" he shouts, bursting from the box.
A perfectly executed magic trick, if he dare say so himself. What other magician could boast of such success, with the role of executioner and assistant switched? He raises his hands into the air in a victorious pose, knees bent-just as stone creeps across the left side of his body, hardening his arm, his leg, his face...
He can't... he can't move...?
All Gen can do is stare at his audience, many with lifted hands about to clap, as they stare back at him in confusion, their hands frozen in midair. When the stone creeps across the rest of their faces, the confusion in those eyes give way to horror, and is thus preserved.
Gen's own reaction can't be much different.
The walls close in around him yet again, drowning him in silence and darkness, as if he is stuck within that box once more, as if he hasn't triumphed over the dark. But he can't even hear his own breathing this time, or feel the pounding of his heart.
The darkness is absolute.
The silence is...
He can't breathe. He can't swallow. He can't scream. Is his heart even beating? But he can think. His mind is still his own. Think. Think Gen. What is going on? Is this a prank? Is there some hidden camera somewhere? Is someone trying to pull his leg?
Think Gen. Think. Think...
... think...
...
... think...
... even thinking...
... is so hard...
... so hard...
... if he... must...
... if....
...
--gratification--
If he must succumb to darkness, Gen wishes he drank that bottle of cola he left on his dressing table 3,700 years ago. That bottle of cola certainly doesn't exist anymore, the taste lost to time, but right here and right now, a new bottle of cola exists before Gen's eyes, brought into existence by dear Senku and his amazing self-confidence.
"In this stone world... could you make some, Senku? Just one bottle... of cola."
"Who d'you think you're taking to? Of course I can make some."
A shaky grin takes shape. Gen's eyes sting, but he moves forward one step at a time, reaching out with trembling hands to grab the bottle of cola on the table. It takes him back, to before, before the lid closed, before the darkness took over, before the silence stole his breath...
Gen takes a careful sip, wanting to savor the taste he has yearned for longer than he has truly lived, but the moment the cola touches his tongue, he can't hold back. He throws all caution to the wind.
More.
More!
He guzzles the cola, fizzy bubbles tickling his throat, and swallows greedily, relishing in the sticky liquid running down his chin and throat. He can't drink it fast enough.
This is the taste of satisfaction, the taste of 3,700 years of regret finally washing away.
This is the taste of hope, of the moment that Gen's world finds its footing, his decision made.
Senku.
It has to be Senku.
But no, no... Gen's decision happened even earlier.
Earlier than now, earlier than the promise of cola, earlier than the miracle of light...
--conviction--
"Senku?" Taiju asks, voice booming. It's like he only has one volume setting. Gen winces and moves back a bit to rescue his hearing. Taiju's next words, however, are slightly, just a teeny, tiny bit, softer.
"He is...was... a dear friend of mine," Taiju finally settles on saying in response to Gen's probing.
"I don't get it. How can you bear to work with dear Tsukasa when he murdered your friend with his own hands?" Gen deliberately asks, fishing for more information. These two and dear Tsukasa were the only ones present when dear Senku was "killed."
"Senku wants... um, would have wanted us to work together," Taiju says. Then, he smiles. "That's the kind of guy he is... was."
So, someone who wishes to save everyone, friend and foe alike? No wonder dear Tsukasa doesn't want any of that.
Taiju seems like he is about to say more, but Yuzuriha quickly jumps in and claims it's time for both of them to return to work.
Taiju is perhaps the world's worst liar, not that the world consists of all that many people currently. Yuzuriha isn't much better, though her poker face isn't half bad, and she at least knows the less said, the better. It's just that no one can truly sneak a lie past Gen, even when no untruths pass through their lips. That would take masterful command of one's body language.
If dear Tsukasa only wishes for Gen to ascertain whether or not Senku is still alive, there is really no need for Gen to go anywhere to find that out. The body language of these two dear friends of Senku tells him everything he needs to know.
They're tense, yes, as anyone should be working for their friend's murderer, yet they're not tense enough. The same goes for their melancholy for the loss of their friend, or well, lack of. A thread of sadness laces their every action, yet it's not the kind of overwhelming sadness one might expect from people who have only just lost a dear one.
But more than all of that, it's their lack of anger toward Tsukasa that clues him in. Hatred. Resentment. Furiosity. None of that colors their actions. How could anyone not resent their friend's murderer?
Even if they truly had a change of heart, wholeheartedly believing in Tsukasa's vision to the point of accepting their friend's death as an unavoidable casualty, no one is that much of a saint. There's bound to be some resentment that they can't help but feel.
Dear Senku is certainly alive and well, plotting a scientific comeback against the Tsukasa empire.
Meanwhile, his two friends have completely integrated themselves into the Tsukasa empire. Taiju uses his strength and endurance to do all sorts of odd jobs, from fishing to carrying stuff to building homes, while Yuzuriha uses her knack at handicrafts to make outfits for everyone.
In fact, wanting a coat is why Gen has a great excuse to go along with Yuzuriha as she separates from Taiju, who gives her a worried look. Yuzuriha just smiles back at Taiju in reassurance.
How adorable. He's probably still hovering nearby, just in case.
Once they reach what must be Yuzuriha's workshop, she fetches a rope made from some sort of plant and begins to take his measurements. There's really no time better for getting information out of someone than when they're super busy.
"Dear Yuzuriha, have you considered dyes for these lovely garments?" Gen asks. He himself would adore a purple coat.
Her eyes light up at Gen's hook, and she jumps into a rambling speech about all the different colors she wishes she had available.
"Senku could totally-" she begins to say before stopping abruptly when she realizes what she almost let slip. She doesn't do a half bad job at covering up for herself, her eyes growing moist, her voice trembling minutely. "All these little things remind me of him. Senku... he could have easily made some dyes for me."
Gen pretends to take pity on her. "I'm no scientist, but I'm not half bad at making dyes from flowers."
These little glimpses of "Senku" that Taiju and Yuzuriha let slip are fascinating. So, so fascinating. So is their complete belief in their remote friend. So is the fact that they must be here as spies.
Gen is completely and utterly enraptured, even more than before.
So much that he doesn't tell dear Tsukasa.
--admiration--
Gen's fascination can be traced even further back.
5738
A.D. April 1
Outside the Miracle Cave, someone carved the exact date they broke out of stone into the bark.
Gen touches his hand to the bark in disbelief. How? How does this person know the exact date?
Gen realizes then. When Gen surrendered to the dark, giving in to despair, this someone must have been awake the entire time, counting each and every agonizing second with no end in sight, no swords to guide his sense of time, to indicate the conclusion of this nasty trick. Even such a short time in the box confused Gen's inner clock, seconds stretching into eternity.
How? Just how did this guy do it?
This perseverance, this will, this wonder, is certainly something inspiring, something to be treasured.
Disbelief gives way to awe, but Gen quickly schools his expression so he doesn't reveal himself.
Senku, is it?
Gen can't wait to meet him. Gen might even tell him, "I'm a huge fan~"
Perhaps, 3,700 years ago, their paths would never have crossed, magic and science never finding a place beside each other, strangers to the end, but chance has seen to Gen's revival, and dear Tsukasa has seen fit to place the decision of Senku's continual survival in Gen's hands.
Well, well, well, Gen will just have to make a personal visit to see for himself, es-yay?
--exhilaration--
Gen doesn't just see for himself. He smells it.
Ramen? Here? Seriously? Ramen?
There's even a ramen stand, just outside of what looks to be a well established village that certainly didn't sprout overnight. A bunch of people slurp the noodles loudly, their first ever taste of a gourmet meal. Adults. Children. People. The world isn't as desolate as Gen thought.
Gen watches and understands-dear Senku is trying to win them over with food.
He succeeds. Oh does he succeed.
Gen grabs a bowl of ramen for himself without anyone's notice. They even made chopsticks. Chopsticks!
Dear Senku is even more, even more than Gen could have ever imagined.
The soggy noodles taste bland and even leave a bitter aftertaste, but Gen still finds a need to blink his eyes and take a moment for himself. He slurps the noodles down, his throat closing in, making it hard to swallow. But he does, and makes it a point to say, "What I wouldn't give for a bottle of cola right now."
At spear point, Gen feels his heart pounding loud and fast, as he laments about being all by his lonesome ever since breaking out of the stone. It certainly has felt like it.
But no, that's not why his heart pounds so fast.
Past the spears, past his interrogators, stands Senku in the flesh.
Dear Senku, who counted second by second in the dark, over 3,700 years, whose mind and ideals Tsukasa feared so much that he played executioner. Dear Senku, whose life is now in Gen's hands. All it would take is just a few words from Gen.
But Gen already decided even before they met. Each absurd idea Senku comes up with only cements his decision even more. Ramen. Electricity. Light??
Gen doesn't just see for himself. He feels it with each crashing step of his, bare feet scraping against the dirt as he runs as if his life depends on it. It doesn't, not really, but someone else's does.
His injuries from Magma's ambush haven't healed completely-impossible given how little time he has rested-but there is no time to lose. These injuries are perfect for selling his story. Just the thought of spinning this wild tale makes Gen grin fiercely. At this moment, with his skin bleeding and feet aching, Gen feels more alive than ever.
"Would you like me to make you some socks or shoes?"
"No need, dear Yuzuriha. Just the coat is perfect."
What need is there for socks or shoes when he can feel his every step like this, feel his every choice, a clear reminder that Asagiri Gen is truly alive and kicking?
There is nothing more exhilarating than this.
Gen bursts into the cave where Tsukasa awaits, just like how he burst out of that box pierced by swords, and triumphantly declares, "Senku is dead, surely and truly!"
Another perfectly executed trick. Gen can't help but praise himself.
Later, Yuzuriha gives Gen a knowing look, but Gen just grins. Later, Taiju gives Gen some soap to wash his injuries, and Gen learns that even this mundane but magical invention was thanks to Senku.
Really, there was never a different decision to make.
--affection--
There was never a different decision to make, but Senku seems to think differently.
"Heh, should've known you guys would realize eventually... that if you gave me up to Tsukasa and swore off science, the village would be safe. It's the rational way out of all this trouble," Senku says wryly.
Senku's mining trip with Chrome and Magma was the perfect opportunity for Gen to get everyone in on this trick to surprise Senku, but apparently Gen succeeds too much.
He succeeds so much in surprising Senku that he unearths Senku's deepest troubles, the thought that they would abandon him for the easy way out. The rational way. The boring way.
"... I swear I haven't a clue what you're on about," Gen responds.
He smiles a little sadly, for Senku doesn't realize his own worth. Optimistic to a fault, but never in regards to himself. Sweat beads down Senku's face, as if his only worth is his knowledge of science, which, according to him, is too much trouble for the villagers and Gen.
Senku doesn't realize. He doesn't understand at all. All the villagers delighted in moving mountains to make this telescope happen, all because they wished to thank Senku, to celebrate Senku's existence. The entire village came together to build the observatory and telescope in the three days Senku was away, all to make sure that they would make it in time for Senku's birthday.
And here Senku doubts, blind to his own influence.
Well then, that's why they're here. That's why Gen is here. They just have to remove the blindfold. And so they do.
As the blindfold falls away, Gen greedily watches the amazement that spreads across Senku's face, at the emotion that dabs at his eyes, and can't help the fondness that wells within him in response.
Senku places a gentle hand on the side of the telescope, his eyes softening every so subtly.
Well, Gen can't deny that in playing this trick, he's also ensnared himself.
But here, 3,700 years in the future, Gen is only too happy to cherish all these sensations that he thought he would never get to feel again.
Gen lifts his head to watch the beautiful, breathtaking night sky and finally lets Senku know.
Truthfully, from the very start, before they even met...
the end
Thanks for reading! <3 I feel like I myself learned a lot about Gen through writing this. I'll be including more thoughts about the fic in my year in fic post later.
This entry was originally posted at https://lucathia.dreamwidth.org/368290.html. You can comment here or there.
Title: Sensation
Fandom: Dr. Stone
Words: 3,908
Summary: Gen cherishes each sensation he's able to feel again, several of which he never thought he would ever get to feel a second time. He is a mentalist, not an optimist. He hasn't ever considered being able to see the new year again, to feel the cold of the night and the joy of a new day, yet here he is now, on this cliff beside perhaps the most optimistic of them all, dear Senku with his crazy, wild thoughts that he always brings to life.
Notes: for Pluralforce for
yuletide 2019. Asagiri Gen character study, featuring hints of Senku x Gen.
Sensation
--permeation--
He breathes in the cold, deeply, thoroughly, relishing in its intensity, before he releases it. A puff of white trails in the air for but a moment, until he repeats his actions, slowly, gradually, enjoying every second of the biting cold spreading through him. Then, he exhales lazily like a content dragon curled around precious treasure.
Even he knows, however, the simple explanation behind the visibility of his breaths, of the evidence of his existence. It should dispel the magic, yet it doesn't.
Gen's lips quirk up at this elementary phenomenon happening before his eyes, water vapor condensing into small droplets of liquid. Simple but fundamental, warmth bleeding into coldness, chilliness seeping into heat. Simple, yet not a thought that would have surfaced in Gen's mind, 3,700 years in the past. No, the Gen back then would have cared little for the marvels of science past its usefulness in his tricks, not when it was ever present in daily life, a given, a constant; not when pretending to be a cloud-breathing dragon was so much more fun.
(It still is. He is a mentalist, after all. But he can't help how prevalent science is in his thoughts now, thanks to a certain someone.)
He rubs his hands, inviting back the warmth, and tucks what little bit of warmth he has stolen within his billowy sleeves, but it is of little use when his ankles are still exposed to the weather, aching and smarting from the biting cold.
Yet that's just how he likes it. If not for the absolute chilliness of the winter snow below his feet, he would have even chosen to go barefoot, despite the weather.
Perhaps, even more so because of the weather.
He breathes out, watching his breath take shape, right next to another, from the very reason behind the invading thoughts of, "science, science, science!" that spread through him. It is a relentless mantra, an incantation that will save them all, unwavering belief to anchor one's doubts in this familiar yet foreign world.
He doesn't fight against it.
He walks, beside Senku, beside the one who paved this path forward, beside the one Gen chose, when he could have chosen a far easier path. One outlandish invention after another resulted from Senku's wild ambitions, each and every step he took confident and certain, pulling along all those around him, Gen included, creating marvels from what should have been a lost era, reclaiming the genius of years upon years of human cultivation.
Until Senku finally falters, confined by the limits of this stone world.
But that is exactly why Gen is here. He is no scientist, no inventor, no doctor, no hunter. He could make a list of everything he is not, as he has few skills that one would think would help in an apocalyptic world, yet he is also exactly what is needed here when all else is lost. He gets Senku out of that comfy, warm hut and into the biting cold, determined to shake Senku out of this funk that doesn't suit him at all.
Together with Senku, Gen joins the others on the cliff to await the new year, watching the gentle rays of the sun gradually light the sky up, as well as the stone in Suika's hand, shining brightly blue, the beautiful, miraculous solution to Senku's troubles.
The others may be watching the bright blue stone, but Gen's eyes zone in on the exhilaration taking shape in Senku's grin, lighting up his eyes like the true dawn of the new year.
The new year...
It's yet another wild thought for Gen. He is a mentalist, not an optimist. He hasn't ever considered being able to see the new year again, to feel the cold of the night and the joy of a new day, yet here he is now, on this cliff beside perhaps the most optimistic of them all, dear Senku with his crazy, wild thoughts that he always brings to life.
This cliff, shining with hope, full of friends, wrapped by the loving, cold tendrils of winter that makes Gen feel so utterly alive, is as different as different can be from the lonely cliff that greeted Gen upon his introduction to this new world.
--desolation--
When the stone pieces crack and fall from his skin, he wakes to a desolate cliff, a far cry from the lively night scene above a different cliff that awaits his choosing. The plains below him stretch far and wide with not a soul in sight. His hands are raised into the air, guiding his eyes to the blue skies before him, holding him in an exaggerated, ridiculous victory pose that has survived the testament of time.
Asagiri Gen isn't one to give up.
He can breathe. He can feel. He can think. But more than anything, he can talk again.
And so he blabs his first words in this new world.
"Is this a hidden camera show? And my manager didn't stop it? I'm a mentalist, so I'll take it in good stride if they're just doing their job..."
The words flow out of him, each word reviving him further, regardless of how pointless they are. That they have passed through his lips at all is something to celebrate, to cherish.
Who is Asagiri Gen without his words, after all?
With his words restored to him, Gen is back to life. Revived, confused, but himself once more.
Behind him, a mountain of stone statues tower into the sky, hand picked by the would be dictator of this lawless new world. Gen has only met him once, during a TV special on psychological magic. They were both teen celebrities of that lost world, eagerly snatched and hounded by mass media, yet they couldn't have been more different. That one show was the only time their lives intersected back then. Once the show ended, their lives separated once more, never to cross again. Gen never really gave much thought to Tsukasa Shishio after that, despite that he held the title of the strongest high school primate.
Yet here they are now. If not for his manager making that TV special happen, Gen would possibly never have woken up in this new world thousands of years after mankind lost their chance at survival. Dear Tsukasa really only chose him because of that one incidental meeting 3,700 years ago where Gen barely spoke with him yet somehow left enough of an impression to be considered useful.
Gen could very well have remained stuck in stone, if not for that.
This is no prank. There is no hidden camera waiting to capture Gen's folly, to immortalize Gen's discombobulation. He was freed from eternity, chosen really, let loose upon a world that is really only in its infancy, all progress mankind made over the ages reset to zero.
Dear Tsukasa stands with his hands outstretched, but his is no victory pose, beckoning Gen to join him in playing god in this sad, lonely world.
What use is there for words if there is no one around to hear them?
Gen grins fiercely. There is no other response more appropriate to this madness, to what he has awoken to. His bare feet curl below him, toes digging deeply into the dirt, tiny granules of sand scraping against his skin. The sensation of dirt below his feet ground him, and the words that dance at the tip of his tongue reassure him.
He is alive.
Alive.
Alive...
But what of that man that dear Tsukasa wishes for Gen to condemn?
--condemnation--
The box closes above Gen, locking him within the trick, condemning him to darkness as the last sliver of light is sealed away. He gulps and wishes he drank the chilled bottle of cola he left on his dressing table, but now it's too late and too dark. His throat is parched, itchy, his words stuck. That bottle of cola would do wonders.
He loves this trick, but waiting is always a bore. His mind can’t help but play tricks on him as the walls close in and silence wraps around him, leaving behind only shallow, harsh breaths and a pounding heart.
He swallows. He pulls at his collar. He wriggles his feet, almost wishing he could kick his shoes off.
How long has it been? It's almost time, right? Right?
He curls into himself. The darkness is so utterly boring.
A blade slides past. Finally. He guides it through the other side of the box. He sucks in his stomach to avoid the second, and tucks his feet in further for the third, then the fourth and the fifth. There is barely any room left when the sixth slides in right past Gen's head.
A strand of hair falls.
A grin spreads across Gen's face. His heart pounds with adrenaline.
Now is his cue!
"Behold!" he shouts, bursting from the box.
A perfectly executed magic trick, if he dare say so himself. What other magician could boast of such success, with the role of executioner and assistant switched? He raises his hands into the air in a victorious pose, knees bent-just as stone creeps across the left side of his body, hardening his arm, his leg, his face...
He can't... he can't move...?
All Gen can do is stare at his audience, many with lifted hands about to clap, as they stare back at him in confusion, their hands frozen in midair. When the stone creeps across the rest of their faces, the confusion in those eyes give way to horror, and is thus preserved.
Gen's own reaction can't be much different.
The walls close in around him yet again, drowning him in silence and darkness, as if he is stuck within that box once more, as if he hasn't triumphed over the dark. But he can't even hear his own breathing this time, or feel the pounding of his heart.
The darkness is absolute.
The silence is...
He can't breathe. He can't swallow. He can't scream. Is his heart even beating? But he can think. His mind is still his own. Think. Think Gen. What is going on? Is this a prank? Is there some hidden camera somewhere? Is someone trying to pull his leg?
Think Gen. Think. Think...
... think...
...
... think...
... even thinking...
... is so hard...
... so hard...
... if he... must...
... if....
...
--gratification--
If he must succumb to darkness, Gen wishes he drank that bottle of cola he left on his dressing table 3,700 years ago. That bottle of cola certainly doesn't exist anymore, the taste lost to time, but right here and right now, a new bottle of cola exists before Gen's eyes, brought into existence by dear Senku and his amazing self-confidence.
"In this stone world... could you make some, Senku? Just one bottle... of cola."
"Who d'you think you're taking to? Of course I can make some."
A shaky grin takes shape. Gen's eyes sting, but he moves forward one step at a time, reaching out with trembling hands to grab the bottle of cola on the table. It takes him back, to before, before the lid closed, before the darkness took over, before the silence stole his breath...
Gen takes a careful sip, wanting to savor the taste he has yearned for longer than he has truly lived, but the moment the cola touches his tongue, he can't hold back. He throws all caution to the wind.
More.
More!
He guzzles the cola, fizzy bubbles tickling his throat, and swallows greedily, relishing in the sticky liquid running down his chin and throat. He can't drink it fast enough.
This is the taste of satisfaction, the taste of 3,700 years of regret finally washing away.
This is the taste of hope, of the moment that Gen's world finds its footing, his decision made.
Senku.
It has to be Senku.
But no, no... Gen's decision happened even earlier.
Earlier than now, earlier than the promise of cola, earlier than the miracle of light...
--conviction--
"Senku?" Taiju asks, voice booming. It's like he only has one volume setting. Gen winces and moves back a bit to rescue his hearing. Taiju's next words, however, are slightly, just a teeny, tiny bit, softer.
"He is...was... a dear friend of mine," Taiju finally settles on saying in response to Gen's probing.
"I don't get it. How can you bear to work with dear Tsukasa when he murdered your friend with his own hands?" Gen deliberately asks, fishing for more information. These two and dear Tsukasa were the only ones present when dear Senku was "killed."
"Senku wants... um, would have wanted us to work together," Taiju says. Then, he smiles. "That's the kind of guy he is... was."
So, someone who wishes to save everyone, friend and foe alike? No wonder dear Tsukasa doesn't want any of that.
Taiju seems like he is about to say more, but Yuzuriha quickly jumps in and claims it's time for both of them to return to work.
Taiju is perhaps the world's worst liar, not that the world consists of all that many people currently. Yuzuriha isn't much better, though her poker face isn't half bad, and she at least knows the less said, the better. It's just that no one can truly sneak a lie past Gen, even when no untruths pass through their lips. That would take masterful command of one's body language.
If dear Tsukasa only wishes for Gen to ascertain whether or not Senku is still alive, there is really no need for Gen to go anywhere to find that out. The body language of these two dear friends of Senku tells him everything he needs to know.
They're tense, yes, as anyone should be working for their friend's murderer, yet they're not tense enough. The same goes for their melancholy for the loss of their friend, or well, lack of. A thread of sadness laces their every action, yet it's not the kind of overwhelming sadness one might expect from people who have only just lost a dear one.
But more than all of that, it's their lack of anger toward Tsukasa that clues him in. Hatred. Resentment. Furiosity. None of that colors their actions. How could anyone not resent their friend's murderer?
Even if they truly had a change of heart, wholeheartedly believing in Tsukasa's vision to the point of accepting their friend's death as an unavoidable casualty, no one is that much of a saint. There's bound to be some resentment that they can't help but feel.
Dear Senku is certainly alive and well, plotting a scientific comeback against the Tsukasa empire.
Meanwhile, his two friends have completely integrated themselves into the Tsukasa empire. Taiju uses his strength and endurance to do all sorts of odd jobs, from fishing to carrying stuff to building homes, while Yuzuriha uses her knack at handicrafts to make outfits for everyone.
In fact, wanting a coat is why Gen has a great excuse to go along with Yuzuriha as she separates from Taiju, who gives her a worried look. Yuzuriha just smiles back at Taiju in reassurance.
How adorable. He's probably still hovering nearby, just in case.
Once they reach what must be Yuzuriha's workshop, she fetches a rope made from some sort of plant and begins to take his measurements. There's really no time better for getting information out of someone than when they're super busy.
"Dear Yuzuriha, have you considered dyes for these lovely garments?" Gen asks. He himself would adore a purple coat.
Her eyes light up at Gen's hook, and she jumps into a rambling speech about all the different colors she wishes she had available.
"Senku could totally-" she begins to say before stopping abruptly when she realizes what she almost let slip. She doesn't do a half bad job at covering up for herself, her eyes growing moist, her voice trembling minutely. "All these little things remind me of him. Senku... he could have easily made some dyes for me."
Gen pretends to take pity on her. "I'm no scientist, but I'm not half bad at making dyes from flowers."
These little glimpses of "Senku" that Taiju and Yuzuriha let slip are fascinating. So, so fascinating. So is their complete belief in their remote friend. So is the fact that they must be here as spies.
Gen is completely and utterly enraptured, even more than before.
So much that he doesn't tell dear Tsukasa.
--admiration--
Gen's fascination can be traced even further back.
5738
A.D. April 1
Outside the Miracle Cave, someone carved the exact date they broke out of stone into the bark.
Gen touches his hand to the bark in disbelief. How? How does this person know the exact date?
Gen realizes then. When Gen surrendered to the dark, giving in to despair, this someone must have been awake the entire time, counting each and every agonizing second with no end in sight, no swords to guide his sense of time, to indicate the conclusion of this nasty trick. Even such a short time in the box confused Gen's inner clock, seconds stretching into eternity.
How? Just how did this guy do it?
This perseverance, this will, this wonder, is certainly something inspiring, something to be treasured.
Disbelief gives way to awe, but Gen quickly schools his expression so he doesn't reveal himself.
Senku, is it?
Gen can't wait to meet him. Gen might even tell him, "I'm a huge fan~"
Perhaps, 3,700 years ago, their paths would never have crossed, magic and science never finding a place beside each other, strangers to the end, but chance has seen to Gen's revival, and dear Tsukasa has seen fit to place the decision of Senku's continual survival in Gen's hands.
Well, well, well, Gen will just have to make a personal visit to see for himself, es-yay?
--exhilaration--
Gen doesn't just see for himself. He smells it.
Ramen? Here? Seriously? Ramen?
There's even a ramen stand, just outside of what looks to be a well established village that certainly didn't sprout overnight. A bunch of people slurp the noodles loudly, their first ever taste of a gourmet meal. Adults. Children. People. The world isn't as desolate as Gen thought.
Gen watches and understands-dear Senku is trying to win them over with food.
He succeeds. Oh does he succeed.
Gen grabs a bowl of ramen for himself without anyone's notice. They even made chopsticks. Chopsticks!
Dear Senku is even more, even more than Gen could have ever imagined.
The soggy noodles taste bland and even leave a bitter aftertaste, but Gen still finds a need to blink his eyes and take a moment for himself. He slurps the noodles down, his throat closing in, making it hard to swallow. But he does, and makes it a point to say, "What I wouldn't give for a bottle of cola right now."
At spear point, Gen feels his heart pounding loud and fast, as he laments about being all by his lonesome ever since breaking out of the stone. It certainly has felt like it.
But no, that's not why his heart pounds so fast.
Past the spears, past his interrogators, stands Senku in the flesh.
Dear Senku, who counted second by second in the dark, over 3,700 years, whose mind and ideals Tsukasa feared so much that he played executioner. Dear Senku, whose life is now in Gen's hands. All it would take is just a few words from Gen.
But Gen already decided even before they met. Each absurd idea Senku comes up with only cements his decision even more. Ramen. Electricity. Light??
Gen doesn't just see for himself. He feels it with each crashing step of his, bare feet scraping against the dirt as he runs as if his life depends on it. It doesn't, not really, but someone else's does.
His injuries from Magma's ambush haven't healed completely-impossible given how little time he has rested-but there is no time to lose. These injuries are perfect for selling his story. Just the thought of spinning this wild tale makes Gen grin fiercely. At this moment, with his skin bleeding and feet aching, Gen feels more alive than ever.
"Would you like me to make you some socks or shoes?"
"No need, dear Yuzuriha. Just the coat is perfect."
What need is there for socks or shoes when he can feel his every step like this, feel his every choice, a clear reminder that Asagiri Gen is truly alive and kicking?
There is nothing more exhilarating than this.
Gen bursts into the cave where Tsukasa awaits, just like how he burst out of that box pierced by swords, and triumphantly declares, "Senku is dead, surely and truly!"
Another perfectly executed trick. Gen can't help but praise himself.
Later, Yuzuriha gives Gen a knowing look, but Gen just grins. Later, Taiju gives Gen some soap to wash his injuries, and Gen learns that even this mundane but magical invention was thanks to Senku.
Really, there was never a different decision to make.
--affection--
There was never a different decision to make, but Senku seems to think differently.
"Heh, should've known you guys would realize eventually... that if you gave me up to Tsukasa and swore off science, the village would be safe. It's the rational way out of all this trouble," Senku says wryly.
Senku's mining trip with Chrome and Magma was the perfect opportunity for Gen to get everyone in on this trick to surprise Senku, but apparently Gen succeeds too much.
He succeeds so much in surprising Senku that he unearths Senku's deepest troubles, the thought that they would abandon him for the easy way out. The rational way. The boring way.
"... I swear I haven't a clue what you're on about," Gen responds.
He smiles a little sadly, for Senku doesn't realize his own worth. Optimistic to a fault, but never in regards to himself. Sweat beads down Senku's face, as if his only worth is his knowledge of science, which, according to him, is too much trouble for the villagers and Gen.
Senku doesn't realize. He doesn't understand at all. All the villagers delighted in moving mountains to make this telescope happen, all because they wished to thank Senku, to celebrate Senku's existence. The entire village came together to build the observatory and telescope in the three days Senku was away, all to make sure that they would make it in time for Senku's birthday.
And here Senku doubts, blind to his own influence.
Well then, that's why they're here. That's why Gen is here. They just have to remove the blindfold. And so they do.
As the blindfold falls away, Gen greedily watches the amazement that spreads across Senku's face, at the emotion that dabs at his eyes, and can't help the fondness that wells within him in response.
Senku places a gentle hand on the side of the telescope, his eyes softening every so subtly.
Well, Gen can't deny that in playing this trick, he's also ensnared himself.
But here, 3,700 years in the future, Gen is only too happy to cherish all these sensations that he thought he would never get to feel again.
Gen lifts his head to watch the beautiful, breathtaking night sky and finally lets Senku know.
Truthfully, from the very start, before they even met...
the end
Thanks for reading! <3 I feel like I myself learned a lot about Gen through writing this. I'll be including more thoughts about the fic in my year in fic post later.
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