music theory

by 7amflutesectional

Summary:

Gen tags along with the orchestra's top musicians trying to get free food. he doesn't expect to think about the french horn player as much as he does

and Senku doesn't expect to find a viola player's presence to be so nice

or: DCST reimagined as music majors!

Chapter 1

Notes:

suddenly had the thought of "senku is such a french horn player" at a random ass concert at a piano convention and now here we are

Senku might be close to losing it. 

 

And he only thinks “might be” because of the fact that he has in fact done this many times and not lost it before. If he can do it once, he can do it again, surely.

 

Tokyo commute is a nightmare—everyone knows that—but the daily struggles of the average business man in Tokyo pales in comparison to the overachiever Ishigami Senku. Sometimes he wonders if he should’ve just quit science. It would allow him to stay near Ueno campus more often instead of scurrying all over the city to attend classes. And yet, the science brain worm inside his head just can’t seem to let him off easy. 

 

After taking his fifth subway and counting to the third stop, he practically flies out of the terminal when the numbers 2:22 glare at him from his phone. 

 

Ah… shit, shit, shit.

 

He spots a rental bike and tries to open up the bike share app as fast as his clammy fingers can (though he briefly considers straight up committing a crime if it means avoiding the wrath of Dr. Xeno) and starts pedalling. The leaves fly past him languidly, coasting along the gentle breeze. The lactic acid burn in his legs makes Senku envy the peaceful petals, who get to hitch a ride. If he had done that his cells could rely on aerobic respiration, the optimal way they should be creating energy. He huffs, trying to get more oxygen in to ease the burning in his legs even though he knows that’s not how it works. Almost as a punishment for his foolish thinking, the universe sends a leaf flying into his open mouth. 

 

And that’s how the legendary Ishigami Senku, famous for being impeccably punctual, got caught lacking; sputtering and spitting while he dragged his feet off the rental bike, slouching and forcibly dragging his feet across the asphalt roads. 

 

The Seventieth Anniversary Auditorium doors swing open at two thirty four. Warm up immediately ceases at the sound of the door snapping shut. All students immediately suck in a breath.

 

Senku is very visible to every single person in the orchestra, so wanting to slink and hide away would be ten billion percent absolutely illogical. He knows it’s not his fault that the subway decided to be a bitch today, and he also knows it’s not his fault that his organic chemistry professor figured that the students had nothing better to do with their lives than listen about yet another cat story. He knows that he did everything in his power to get here on time and the sweat dripping from his hair and dampening his clothes should be enough evidence for that, even for an orchestra director. 

 

The silence persists even as Senku sits down in his seat and sets his tote bag down. He takes off his french horn backpack case and gets set up fully. He sets up his music and even gets to buzz into his mouthpiece a couple of times. The entire orchestra including him thinks that they’ve got away with it. Reeds enter mouths again and chin rests start going up again—

 

“Two thirty.” 

 

Nobody moves.

 

“I said, to be here, at two thirty. Did I not?”

 

Nobody breathes.

 

“Do you think you can just waltz in here four minutes late? Do you know what four minutes means? Four minutes means four minutes of rep time, four minutes of warm up time, four minutes could have been a run through.”

 

For a group of musicians, they’re really good at staying completely silent and still.

 

“And now, you’ve wasted everybody’s time.” 

 

Senku gets several apologetic glances from his friends.

“Senku.”

The boy slowly raises his gaze to meet the director’s.

 

“I understand you are busy, but you cannot be late to rehearsal again.”

“Sir…”

“There are no exceptions. You chose to be a music major, just because you wish to pursue other goals does not make it acceptable for you to slow down rehearsal, do you understand?”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Dr. Xeno almost smiles reassuringly, but he can’t play favorites (publicly at least) so the stern look stays on his face.

 

He lifts his baton and is about to let Ruri tune when he looks a little closer at his ensemble and notices a viola missing.

 

“Hang on—”

 

At two thirty-seven, the doors to the Seventieth Anniversary Auditorium slam open once more, this time accompanied by the footsteps of an unstressed and unhurried student.

 

Every head turned (except for Senku’s who was much too afraid to do anything that could possibly get him on Dr. Xeno’s bad side),including the director’s.

 

And that’s how the infamous Asagiri Gen is caught lacking and gets the entire orchestra chewed out for another seven minutes. 

 

---

 

“Alright, let’s stop here for today.”

 

The auditorium fills with the sound of shuffling binders and latches opening. Senku frowns as he takes out the tuning slides and turns them upside down, draining the condensation. It’s never been his favorite part of playing a brass instrument, but he also finds sliding the metal back in to be very satisfying. As a result, he actually ends up doing it pretty often.

 

“I still don’t understand why brass players empty their spit onto the floor, can’t you guys just do it in a nearby trash can or something?”

Senku slowly looks up and finds Ukyo looking back at him with a slightly disgruntled expression.

 

“It’s condensation , and not that big of a deal,” he accentuates his point by shaking the tuning slide harder, “it evaporates eventually, and literally no one cares.”

 

“Sure—” Ukyo gets interrupted by the loud blare of a trumpet.

 

“Pack it up, Ryuusui. No one wants to hear you play after a four hour rehearsal,” Kohaku immediately snaps, straightening her back and walking over to Ukyo and Senku.

 

Ryuusui just laughs but obliges. Unlike Senku who empties his spit in intervals, he just dumps all his out at the very end of rehearsal, no matter how watery his sound gets.

 

“You don’t complain when he empties his spit,” Senku comments slyly.

 

Ukyo pretends to not have heard him and walks over to the double reeds, seemingly super interested in speaking with Tsukasa suddenly. 

 

Senku drops his music into his tote bag along with his organic chemistry notes, and slings his french horn over his shoulders again. He winces at the soreness that will definitely be bothering him for the next week, but that’s what he gets for biking instead of taking a cab.

 

“Hey man!” Chrome greets.

 

“Hey,” Senku stands. He adjusts his stand and seat slightly as he follows Chrome out of the sea of music stands and near the podium.

 

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, is everyone else ready?”

 

Chrome looks around trying to find the rest of the group, and calls out to them warning them that they’ll be ditched if they didn’t catch up soon.

 

Ruri snaps her reed case shut and soon joins Chrome at his side. Yuzuriha and Taiju slowly squirm through the maze of seats and stand next to Senku.

 

“Senku! I’m sorry!” Taiju blurts.

“What for..?”

 

“Dr. Xeno was so mean! You are literally just trying your best to get to rehearsal with such a packed schedule and—”

“Okay, okay big oaf I get it. Besides, it’s really not that deep,” Senku sighs, checking his watch. It’s seven eleven, Dr. Xeno let them off forty-four minutes late. 

 

“Did you bike the whole way here?” Yuzuriha asks, “You looked sweaty when you walked in.”

 

“Yeah,” his eyes search for Tsukasa and Ryuusui. What the hell was taking them so long? They’re normally the most eager to eat.

 

“Why didn’t you just call a cab?” Chrome pipes up.

 

“It would’ve taken way too long. I got off the subway at two twenty-two, there was no way I was going to get here in eight minutes if I had to wait for an uber or taxi.” 

 

Seriously, where are those two? It’s starting to piss Senku off, especially since he is much hungrier than usual having to fight for his life getting here earlier this afternoon.

 

“Wow, getting here in twelve minutes on a bike is still crazy impressive!” Chrome comments.

 

“Uh-huh…”

 

Finally, he spots them. And thank God they are coming toward them. Senku waves at them, but his arm stops midway when he notices a shorter figure behind them.

 

“Yo!” Ryuusui’s cheerful voice calls out, “Sorry to keep you guys waiting!”

“Who’s that behind you?” Senku immediately asks.

Upon asking, the man in question pops out from behind Ryuusui. Senku squints at the part in his hair where white meets black.

 

“Aren’t…you the kid who was late today?”

 

Whatever Gen was expecting as a greeting definitely wasn’t that. He lets out a scoff of mock offense and brings his hand to his chest. Before he can even open his mouth to answer, Tsukasa cuts in.

 

“Yeah, this is Asagiri Gen. Is it okay if he eats with us today?”

The group exchanged glances with each other and shrugs.

 

“For sure!” Kohaku smiles.

 

“Where are we going?” Taiju asks with an overly eager grin.

 

“You should know by now. Where we always go to eat, the best of the best!” Senku grins.

 

---

 

The Tokyo University of Arts Cafeteria.

 

Gen doesn’t know what he expected.

 

He doesn’t know why on Earth he thought for some reason tagging along with the most brilliant musicians in the program meant they usually ate at gourmet places. They’re students. Music major students. Of course they’re broke.

 

Honestly, Gen should’ve known better. Having both dads in the music industry, as highly acclaimed musicians no less, and still not making as much as any average STEM major.

 

When Gen saw Senku smile so brightly, so innocently, he thought surely this was a good sign. Unfortunately, Gen should have known that it was sarcasm, but he’ll just blame his hunger for interfering with his people skills.

 

Now he just has to poke at his food and take small bites of the slimy egg (or whatever that substance is) and pretend that he didn’t just butter up Tsukasa and Ryuusui for a better meal. No one was speaking either, just shoving their faces into their plates like a bunch of animals.

 

“So…viola, huh?” Ruri says awkwardly.

 

“Yeah, you’re an oboe, right?” Gen immediately starts to speak. If he needed to withstand another minute of the awkward chewing noises and zero conversation he probably would have lost it.

 

“Pass me a napkin,” Kohaku grumbles in between bites.

 

Chrome briefly puts his fork down to help before going right back to the cafeteria slop. The table returns to a state of quiet mukbang ASMR.

 

“You guys are really hungry huh…” Gen tries to speak again.

 

“Can you blame us? I mean why did Dr. Xeno have to drag the rehearsal on for that much longer? I can understand ten minutes or so, but over half an hour?” Tsukasa sighs and wipes his mouth while pushing the plate away.

 

“Haha…sorry for being late,” Gen mutters quietly, picking up his chopsticks and poking a piece of potato. It pierces straight through, much easier than Gen expected. 

 

“It’s fine, Senku was late too. You missed the whole lecture Xeno gave,” Yuzuriha gently pats Senku on his shoulder. 

 

“Aren’t you the one that accused me of being late?” Gen teases.

 

Senku grunts, eyes staying on his plate. “Not my fault Dr. Yamaguchi is a yapper,”

 

Gen stills for a second.

 

“Organic chemistry?”

 

An affirmative hum.

 

“As a music major?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah! Senku really likes science!” Taiju exclaims unceremoniously from across the table.

 

Yeah, no shit he does, Gen thinks. Either that or he just needs a way to guarantee he won’t be homeless in the future, but either one is perfectly valid in his opinion. Gen returns his attention back to the massacre on his plate. He picks up the small piece of potato he just stabbed through and shoves it in his mouth as fast as he can, determined to taste as little of it as possible.

 

“What about you?”

 

“Pardon?” Gen looks up and finds Senku’s eyes have removed themself from his plate and are trained on his now. 

 

“What’s your excuse?”

Strange how he was face to face with Senku an hour ago when he asked to tag along yet this feels like the first proper look he gets of the other musician.

 

“Excuse?” Gen smiles, “I have a very legitimate reason I’ll have you know.”

 

“And what would that be?”

 

He has red eyes, Gen notes. It’s a nice color, he thinks. Like asiatic lilies, but less intense. It’s weird, Gen can’t seem to place it. His eyes are sharp, but not unkind, not even unapproachable. 

 

“The traffic was errible-tay,” he says easily and sets his utensils down gently, “There was a bad accident on the road, had to take a detour.”

 

The conversation gets swallowed by chewing again, but thankfully Gen isn’t left in silence for very long. The trash cans start to fill and there’s a slow revival of chatter at the table. 

 

Gen senses the change in mood and starts to get ready to stand before he’s harshly tugged back down by Ryuusui.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Gen blinks. “Oh, I see. You guys are getting dessert?” Gen briefly contemplates if staying would be worth it if dessert was going to be at the same quality of the meal, but then again how can they mess up dessert.

 

Ryuusui wrinkles his nose, “Dessert? What kind of…well now that you mention it we could…”

 

“We usually play cards after dinner. We say it'll only be twenty minutes, but it ends up usually being until nine,” Ukyo explains, cutting Ryuusui off before he can make any poor financial decisions.

 

“And then we do eenie meenie miney mo until we decide who’s dorm we’re going to to keep playing until like three,” Kohaku finishes, already dealing out cards for a game of poker, Texas Hold’em style, “You wanna play?”

Gen should probably practice. Actually, he definitely should. His parents will definitely be on his ass if he doesn’t. “Actually, I should prob—”

“Gen is also playing? That’s awesome!”

“Oh…Taiju I don’t…” Gen starts.

 

“The more the merrier, right?” Yuzuriha smiles at Gen, trying to silently signal to just play at least one round.

 

Gen isn’t stupid. He knows he’s allowed to decline if he wants to, and he knows he should so he can practice or complete his assignments instead of playing cards with people he tried to use for a fancy meal. But Gen is also lazy, and it would be way easier to play cards instead of doing any other productive task. Therefore he’s conserving energy. That’s what he tells himself anyway.

That’s how all of them, including Gen, wind up in Taiju’s dorm well into the new day.

 

“Two pair,” Kohaku throws her cards out into the center of the circle they’ve formed on the floor.

 

“Haha! Full House!” Ryuusui copies Kohaku’s motion and snaps gleefully. 

 

“Straight flush,” Senku smirks, glancing to see if anyone has a better hand. When he’s met with nothing but groans he grins even wider while sweeping all the tokens in the center towards himself.

 

Gen wonders how it was possible to have luck this good. He folded as soon as he saw his cards.

 

“I’m out of chips,” Tsukasa mutters. He went all-in last round with a single pair, but no one bought it. “Should we pack it up today?”

 

“Someone’s bitter,” Ryuusui gloats, “I’m charitable enough to lend some of my chips with you though! You’d just have to pay back with thirty percent interest though…”

 

“I don’t know if I can go on either,” Chrome mutters, “I’ve only got two white chips left.”

 

“I can lend some to you too!”

“This is how the rich prey off the poor huh,” Ukyo deadpans.

 

The group laughs; Ryuusui in particular laughs so hard he starts coughing and excuses himself to the restroom.

 

Ruri yawns. “Maybe we should stop for today though, it’s getting late."

 

“Yeah, and some of us have already clocked out,” Yuzuriha agrees and gestures to Taiju’s slumped, unconscious body.

 

“Past the big oaf’s bedtime, huh,” Senku says before standing, “Probably should get going though, I’ve got a nine am lecture tomorrow.”

“I do too,” Gen adds, slowly rising to his feet.

 

“You two should go back first then, I think the rest of us only have afternoon classes plus rehearsal.” Ukyo also stands to walk them to the door.

 

“Thanks for letting me join you guys! It was really un-fay,” Gen smiles nicely.

 

Ukyo unlocks the door. “Thank you for letting us use your car. Normally we’d have to walk.”

 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Cars are meant to be driven, after all!”

 

“Thanks anyways, feel free to join us anytime again, okay?” Ukyo gently smiles back.

 

How courteous. Gen decides he likes Ukyo, very considerate, very polite.

 

After a few more goodbyes shouted in and out of the apartment the door clicks shut.

 

“It’s suddenly so quiet, ay?” Gen starts, eyeing Senku slightly. Senku returns his glance.

 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

 

They stay standing in the doorway for a little longer. They don’t look at each other. Instead they both stare out off the balcony of the fourth floor of the Geishin dormitory. A gentle breeze blows in from the West, causing both of them to take their right hands and adjust their hair, keeping it out of their faces.

 

They listen to the lively chatter as Ryuusui comes out of the bathroom only to discover that there are two people missing; they listen to the combined and labored efforts of the whole group trying to get Taiju onto his bed. They hear feet shuffling and laughter reverberating softly through the padded walls. It is nice, Gen thinks, but that might just be the autumn air coming through making him feel more sentimental than usual.

 

Senku is the first to break the atmosphere, “We should go. Before they start leaving too.”

“Mm,” Gen hums and follows him down the stairs.

 

When they reach the parking lot, Gen is just about to offer Senku a ride home, but the other also opens his mouth at the same time.

 

“Do you—”

 

“D—”

 

Both mouths close.

 

“You go first,” Gen bows his head slightly.

 

“Nah, mine wasn’t all that,” Senku mutters, scratching his head.

 

Gen laughs. “No, I insist.”

 

Senku eyes him for a second before replying, “I was just gonna ask if you wanted to go to McDonalds or something.”

Whatever Gen was expecting, it wasn’t that.

 

“Pardon?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?”

 

Okay, rude.

 

“I…uh…why?”

Senku eyes him again , “You barely ate anything at dinner, and it’s been hours since then. You not hungry at all?”

Gen blinks, a slow grin creeping onto his face. So this kid is more observant than he thought. “Aww, is Senku asking me out?”

Now it’s Senku’s turn to blink. 

 

“Bruh.”

The candidness of the response makes Gen laugh, to Senku’s confusion.

 

Gen finally speaks, still chuckling slightly from Senku’s expression, “I’d love McDonalds, anything’s better than that orrible-hay cafeteria slop.”

 

“Real, let’s go.”

 

Gen smiles before realizing they had no means of getting there.

 

When he asks, Senku just looks at him blankly. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re using your car.”

Gen laughs again .

 

“You ask me out to McDonalds and expect me to provide the transportation?” Gen scoffs, feigning offense, “Minus ten gentlemen points for you.”

 

“I was going to offer to pay,” Senku murmured, already tugging at the door handle, “But I mean if you want to use your own money…”

 

Gen’s old Nissan Juke unlocks with a beep, “That’s not necessary, it’s fine, I’ll even drive! Anything to save money.” 

 

Senku scoffs and slides in next to Gen. The car shakes when the engine starts, and Gen turns on the radio. The little automobile floods with synthetic beats so loud the pair both jump before Gen frantically turns the knob to turn the music down.

 

“Do you normally have the music up this loud?” Senku grimaces, rubbing his ears.

 

“Must’ve accidentally hit it or something,” Gen mutters and turns it back on at a much softer volume.

 

Senku raises a brow, “Pop music?”

Gen internally cringes. Senku is a bit of a genius, he could gather that much, but was he also an annoying stuck up elitist? “Yeah.”

 

“Is that…Ado?”

 

“Yes…” Gen confirms before realizing who he was talking to, “Hang on, how did you know?”

Senku squints at him, “You know who she is, why wouldn’t I?”

Gen doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, does this guy seriously not realize how he presents himself? “Well, given how stacked you are with music, I figured you wouldn’t have much time to listen to pop music of all things.”

 

Senku scratches his neck, “Yeah, that is true. I do think I fall under the stereotype of music majors only listening to classical music unfortunately. But my little cousin really likes Ado’s stuff, so she makes me listen to it sometimes.”

 

He then turns his gaze to Gen, “Why do you listen to pop music though?”

“It’s good to know what the public likes, you know?” Gen keeps his eyes on the road, “Besides, I kinda like the sound of her voice.”

 

“Hm,” Senku frowns, appearing like he’s deep in thought, “I wonder if pop music is more popular because of the lyrics?”

“Pardon?”

 

“It’s just that pop music generally is less musically complex than classical music, and the same note is repeated multiple times in a row. I wonder how anyone doesn’t get a headache from listening to it over and over again.”

“And that’s why you think it’s because of the lyrics? Because that’s something that can be gained exclusively from pop or something similar, leading to its greater popularity over the classical music genre?”

“Yeah, but even then what are lyrics if just a means to tell a message? I don’t really get the mushy feelings that much, especially the love songs in particular, but isn’t classical music also born of these feelings? So how do lyrics impact the popularity of certain music over others? If it’s about expression regardless…” 

 

Gen notices how Senku trails off. When he shifts his head to investigate why, he finds the other resting his elbow on the window and gazing up at the sky.

 

“I’m gonna guess you weren’t ever really into literature?” Gen comments.

 

Senku turns his head back around, steadily meeting Gen’s gaze, “Nah, didn’t have time for that.”

The strands of hair on his face perfectly missed his eyes, keeping his vision from being obstructed. How odd is that, Gen thinks.

 

“Were you building rockets or something?” Gen scoffs lightly, only half joking.

 

“How’d you know?”

 

“Are you serious.”

 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be.”

 

Gen’s jaw almost drops. “What are you doing as a music major if you were building rockets as a child? For fun I presume?”

A nod from Senku.

 

“Seriously, why a music major? You could be majoring in something useful , making money. Heck, you could even be in America studying and working for NASA or something.”

 

“You seem weirdly passionate about this,” Senku mutters, almost seeming slightly offended.

 

“It’s just…well nevermind. I am curious as to why you decided to major in music. Could have taken it as a minor or something instead of chemistry.”

 

“How…How’d you know?”

“Eriously-say? No one takes O-chem even for fun without at least having a minor in it.”

 

“You have a point,” Senku admits. 

 

“Anyway-ay, the point I was going to make was that if you had even a little bit of interest in literature you’d understand how words carry different means of expression than just sound alone.”

The corners of Senku’s lips tug upward. “Really? Is there any evidence to back that up?”

Gen nods, “Many neuroimaging studies have been trying to find if there is any neural connection with comprehending text, or perspective-taking or even processing emotions in single words. It’s been shown that the more emotions play a role in the text itself that there’s more activity not only in TOM processing but also other emotional areas like amygdala, thalamus, and orbitofrontal cortex. There’s a direct correlation given how much emotion is being put into the text.” 

 

“However, since music is sometimes regarded as technically not an emotional object in itself, many people argue that emotions that one gets from the music is actually ‘inferred’, and neurologists proved it with a study where listeners listened to music believing that a real person wrote it rather than a computer, and the results showed that they had parts in their medial prefrontal cortex activate, which is responsible for mentalizing.” 

 

“So you’re saying that this ties into lyrics in music because the lyrics are inherently more emotional, leading people to connect with it emotionally easier than just imagining it through music alone?” Senku repeats.

 

“Yeah, this whole ‘mentalizing’ process can also be used to question what determines someone’s music taste among other things,” Gen adds. “Technically, the article never said that what you just said is the reason for anything, but I’m just drawing my own conclusion from what I’ve read.”

 

“So I was right.”

Gen eyes him, “Never said you weren’t.”

 

The two look at each other before laughing. Just the two of them, filling the quiet streets of Tokyo with laughter that can be heard even outside the car. They keep talking and debating. It starts with the science behind music and art, and slowly drifted to their own lives, with random intelligent tangents in between.

 

“You know a lot about neuroscience, huh.”

“One of my very very old dreams as a kid was to be a psychologist,” Gen admits.

Senku grins. “That’s interesting! When I was a kid I wanted to be an astronaut.”

“Why am I not surprised at all,” Gen groans as he pulls into the McDonalds parking lot.

Notes:

hey hey hey! thanks for reading! sorry for the weird end, i lowk just wanted a chapter out so i could get the ao3 author vibe lol. this is my first fic ever so many apologies if it's unbelievably diabolical! criticism is very much appreciated. i DO have ideas for continuing the story (i kind of live and breathe sengen rn) so don't worry, but updates may be kinda slow because crying in student

btw here's the source for the gen pysch yap at the end: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4547007/

thanks sm for reading again, see yall next chapter! (hopefully soon)

Chapter 2

Notes:

i sacrificed my education to write this (of my own free will, my mom is on my ass right now about my math hw and amc prep, but it's okay!!)

alas, the sengen demons were too strong

enjoy!

The pair enter the restaurant and stand before the kiosk. Gen immediately starts tapping away. 

 

“A large coke? Are you planning on not sleeping?” Senku asks, bewildered by Gen’s choices.

 

“What can I say, I like what I like,” Gen grins before adding a twenty piece chicken nugget order on top of that.

 

Senku lets out a pained grunt, “Seven hundred twenty more yen? Are you trying to kill me?”

“Aw, it’s okay, you can make it all up when you get an actual non-music related job in a few years!” Gen sticks out his tongue and adds an order of large fries. Senku gapes. Gen moves aside, letting Senku stand in front of the kiosk. He looks at the screen and then his card before sighing and going straight to checkout. 

 

Gen gets his food very quickly given that they are the only two people in the store. Normally, they would’ve sat down to eat, but because of the horrifically late (or early) time, they decide to just take it as to-go.

 

“What time is it?” Gen yawns as he slams the driver's door shut. He takes a long sip of his drink and exhales happily.

 

Senku opens the window, “It’s like four thirty now.”

 

“Ugh.” Gen suddenly gets hit with a wave of fatigue when he realizes just how late it is and leans over to rest his head dramatically over the steering wheel. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Senku start to recline his seat, far enough to be practically laying flat.

 

“What are you doing?” Gen mutters tiredly, sipping his coke again. It’s ridiculously good for some random McDonalds coke. Gen almost thinks that it was worth staying up this late for the wondrous carbonated drink.

 

Senku looks at him, “Sleeping.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Gen raises his head off the steering wheel and looks at the guy he has now deemed crazy, tiredness forgotten. “Are you erious-say? Where do you live? I’ll take you home so you can sleep in your own bed.”

 

Senku leans back up and squints at Gen.

 

“Nah, that’s like what, thirty minutes of commute? Precious time we could spend sleeping. By staying in the vehicle, we can also wake up later than we normally would because we don’t have to worry about getting ready and everything. Besides, you’re definitely way too tired to drive right now. I’m not willing to risk dying just so I can sleep in my room tonight.”

“Do you even have your stuff for tomorrow?” Gen continues asking incredulously.

“I’ve got my laptop and charger in my bag and some pens and paper, I’ll survive.” Senku leans back into the reclined seat making himself comfortable.

Under usual circumstances, Gen is sure he would not have taken that without at least a little bit of a comeback, claiming that he could absolutely drive Senku home because that is the morally correct thing to do. Or maybe he would chew out or at the very least tease the other about hijacking someone who is practically a stranger’s car. But instead his mind flickers to how Senku’s eyes look ruby in the shadow of the car and decides that it is unfair to ask him to drive when all he wants is to sleep.

 

“Mm, whatever the scientist says,” Gen mumbles, setting his drink down in the cup holder and turning to also recline his seat.

 

“You should eat, ya’ know,” Senku comments, absent mindedly pawing at the bag.

 

“I am ,” Gen gestures at the straw between his lips.

 

“Food , not drinks.” 

 

“I’ll save it as a midnight snack later.”

“It’s a little late for that.”

 

“Breakfast tomorrow then!”

“It’ll be totally cold by then.”

Gen grunts. What is Senku’s deal with his incessant…

 

Oh. A lightbulb goes off in Gen’s mind.

 

“Senku~, if you were hungry and wanted some, you could've just said so,” Gen sticks out his tongue. He places his cheek in his hand to stare at Senku harder. The whites of his hair look sort of yellow under the softly colored streetlights.

 

“What the hell gave you the idea I wanted any?” Senku frowns, turning his head toward the window. 

 

“Ohoho, what are you getting so defensive for then, Senku-chan?” Gen grins.

 

“What? Defensive? I’m not—” Senku frowns and his brows knit together.

 

Gen rummages through the bag and opens the little cart of nuggets, “Help yourself.”

 

Senku frowns, continuing to feign nonchalance. His arms fold into his chest as he slouches more.

 

Gen hands the box closer to Senku’s face, wiggling his eyebrows at him, “Mmm, don’t they smell so good? It’s a shame if no one was going to eat them…”

“They’re for you, not me.” 

“Ohh, but you paid for them. I think you deserve a little compensation, don’t you think?”
 

Senku groans, “Ugh, fine . If you’ll quit yapping.” He takes a chicken nugget and eats it a little too quickly for someone who claims he’s just doing it to get Gen to shut up. 

 

“That wasn’t so hard now was it, Senku-chan?” Gen grins as he takes a chicken nugget for himself and pops it into his mouth.

 

“Whatever, Mentalist.”

 

Gen raises his brows, trying his best not to grin at the nickname. “Mentalist? Where’d that come from?” 

 

“You started the chan thing, thought I’d return the favor,” Senku smirks. 

 

Gen only continues munching on the nuggets while looking out the window acting lost in thought until he hears Senku shuffling around the seat to get comfortable and mutter a “g‘night”.

 

Gen wants to bury his face in his hands. He tries, but he really can’t act as nonchalantly as Senku at all. Not when he basically called him his dream job title, and especially not when his eyes were trained on him so intently like that. So he turns his face around and lets it heat up away from the other. He raises his eyebrows in an attempt to school his expression to something of light surprise rather than an unhinged reaction to flattery. It’s as if Senku looks at him like he’s a weird note on sheet music, like the naturals on the sixth and sevenths coming down the melodic scale that always leaves the audience surprised.

 

For some reason it gives him the illusion that Senku only observes and concludes, without judgement mixed between. Gen knows that’s stupid on so many levels, considering they quite literally only just met. What’s even more frustrating is it drives him even more insane when he can’t tell what tactics the overachiever is pulling to make him so delusional. He can’t act giddy over the prospect of being a mentalist, and he can’t tell anyone why he can’t act giddy. Dreams are dreams for a reason. 

 

Gen looks back over to where Senku lays in the reclined seat turned away from Gen. Senku did a convincing job of acting asleep or at least close to it, and if Gen were anyone else it might have worked.

 

“Are you ready for music theory with Kaseki?” Gen asks, suddenly finding the silence unbearable. 

 

“How did you know?” Senku turns his head around.

“Oh Senku-chan, we’re in the same class.”

 

Senku looks dumbfounded. “No we’re not.”

“Yes we are.”

“Really? Where do you sit?”

“The back.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

 

Gen chuckles, “Of course you didn’t notice. I always wondered who that focused green blob was.”

 

Senku grins in realization, “So you’re part of the loud group in the back?”

“We are not that loud.”

Senku shakes his head, “Maybe to you, but not to us in the front. The lecture hall is in an elliptical shape which means if you stand at the foci it sounds the loudest.”

 

“Ah, so I sit at one foci and you another?”

“Technically it’s Kaseki standing at the other foci.” Senku grins, “And even if you whisper, the person at the other focal point can hear what you’re saying.”

“Eally-ray? No wonder he always looks annoyed,” Gen muses, “That’s real interesting though.”

“Yeah, it all boils down to basic geometry, really.”

“And you really are such a nerd,” Gen says.

“Shut up! Don’t act like you aren’t weird about neuroscience too.”

“Okay! But–!”

 

It’s always strange to find someone who seems unnaturally easy to talk to. Almost like two bodies that share the same soul, or brains on the save wavelength. It seems as though everything in those moments when someone speaks to such a person becomes increasingly meaningful. Everything from the way the air tastes of McDonalds mixed with leather and cloth to the streetlight keeps them from total darkness. The conversation itself bubbly and weirdly educational becomes disappointingly short when morning comes. Even so, people will chase and crave it again. That’s just human nature, science even; and they are nothing if not slaves to the laws of the universe.

 

---

 

“STEP ON THE GAS, MENTALIST, WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!” Senku yells.

 

“MY POOR NISSAN CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH!” Gen screams back.

 

In their conversations and laughter earlier that day, neither had remembered to set an alarm. As a result when Senku was the first to wake at 8:53, he immediately shook Gen back into the land of the living. 

 

“I DON’T CARE, WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY YOUR LUCK WITH ANOTHER MUSIC PROFESSOR TODAY?” Senku sits flat against his seat, gripping the grab handle like it’s life support.

“I’LL BE FINE, THEY CAN’T EXPEL ME OR ANYTHING. I’M TOO IMPORTANT.” Gen tries his best not to swerve off the road in a panic.

“WHAT ABOUT ME THEN? AND WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!”

They hit a red light.

Gen slowly turns to Senku who’s understandably sweating bullets and cursing out the traffic system in his mind.

 

“Are you going to bother me about this?”

Senku keeps his eyes glued onto the stop light, “I don’t particularly care about what connections you have to this institution, but I’d like to not be late.”

 

Gen is a pretty shallow and selfish guy. That’s who he is, that’s who everybody is. People always seek connections to the top to benefit themselves, survival of the fittest. Senku of all people should know that. And yet…

 

Gen doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought when the light changes.

 

“IT’S GREEN, GO GO GO.”

 

---

 

They don’t make it on time. Indeed they arrive one minute later than nine am. They really broke a few traffic laws just to be late by a minute , Gen cries internally at the thought.

 

Professor Kaseki is already up at the front teaching four part harmonies. Senku moves to take his usual seat in the front, but Gen tugs him back by the sleeve.

 

“Are you azy-cray? If you go up there now he’ll surely see you and know you weren’t punctual!” Gen whispers frantically, tugging him into the seat next to him.

 

“And have him realize I didn’t show up at all?!” Senku tugs his arm out of Gen’s grasp and readjusts the bag over his shoulders.

 

“He’ll realize you did eventually when he sees you back here.” Gen taps the table nervously, “And with your brilliant reputation he’s sure to—”

“Senku, Gen, please quiet down.”

“Sorry, sir.” The two mutter in unison immediately. 

 

Professor Kaseki nods and continues lecturing as if nothing happened. “So the leading tone must resolve back into the tonic because…”

 

“Good thing—” Gen starts but gets shushed by Senku who slides him a piece of paper with green ink on it.

 

He can hear us.

 

A handwritten note? Gen writes back with a purple pen.

??? How do u know?

 

He slides it back to Senku.

 

Ellipses, foci

Ohhhhhh, i see

Kaseki lowkey really chill, wasn’t expecting that

Yeah? I always got intimidated by him because I thought he was this scary old man like the rest of the department, who knew?

 

They lock eyes and turn away from each other to stifle their laughter. It’s so silly, two legal adults sitting in a lecture hall exchanging notes like middle schoolers.

Why even bother with all these rules? No parallel fifths? I think they sound just fine!

Texture and stuff, the sound gets kinda masked and stuff

Doesn’t everyone use them everywhere these days though?

Yeah

Why must we abide by these rules then? Let me use my parallel fifths if i so please

Lmao i mean i think it’s just nice to have some kind of standard in music which is so inherently algorithmic, there’s a reason I IV V is so popular

Booooooo i should be allowed to use regression if i wanna T^T

Woah careful, you’re gonna get called a jazz musician for that

 

---

 

The lecture ends and the hall’s previously nearly dead atmosphere livens up again with rustling papers, big yawns, and lots of back cracks. Senku is still finishing up some notes when Gen finishes packing entirely. Looking back, Gen really shouldn’t have been eager to pack up so quickly as he usually is because it now falls onto him to either awkwardly stand around and wait for Senku to finish, or just decide to leave.

 

It’s probably most polite for Gen to stay and offer a ride for Senku. It’s not like Senku’s given him any indication that he hates him and wants him as far away as possible, so Gen decides to keep hanging out with the guy until they naturally part ways.

 

“Senku-chan, I can drop you off wherever you need to go next.”

 

Senku zips up his bag after what felt like hours of waiting to Gen, “Really? Thanks, Mentalist.”

Gen tries to not react to the dumb nickname at all.

 

“Mhm, so where to?”

 

“Uh, well I don’t want to keep you from lectures if you have any.”

“It’s okay Senku-chan, I just have some practicing to do.”

Senku smiles, “Oh yeah, I am ten billion percent taking you up on that offer then.”

 

---

 

Gen gently shuts the door to the practice room next to Senku. He immediately flops down on one of the chairs, not caring about the fact that it probably has some dubious stains from a random brass players’ spit. As much as he’d love to pull the stand down with him and flip it horizontally so he can sleep on it like a desk, he can already hear his parents’ voices about wasting time and resources.

 

So with a heavy sigh, Gen unzips and unlatches his viola case. He takes out his heavy binder with music messily sticking out at the edges. He stands back up with much effort and slams the pages onto his stand, taking out a pencil and metronome as well. 

Bartok Viola Concerto, twenty or so minutes of just viola and piano. He grimaces at the thought. Oh, no big deal, he’s just going to play one of the most famous, well known and notoriously difficult viola pieces for his jury in a few months. Every one of the judges will be familiar with the piece, no doubt, leaving zero room for mistake. 

 

He finishes tightening his bow and rests his viola underneath his chin while putting rosin on. He can get about two hours of practice in before lunch which isn’t as much as he’d like, but he’d made a promise to stop skipping lunch to a friend a while ago. 

 

His left hand finds the fingerboard and he starts tuning. A, D, G, C slowly, letting the notes ring. His tone is good, it’s always been. A nice, rich, warm dark sound. He’s been praised for it ever since he’s picked up the instrument and he’s still praised for it now, even though everyone has good tone now. 

 

Then he plays an A minor scale to get into the key of the piece, trying to get into the mood of the opening. He plays some arpeggios because lord knows there are too many in his piece, and practices some chromatic scales as well. And that's his warm-up finished.

 

Gen opens to the first page of his concerto, dragging out the quarter notes with no regard for how long they should actually be played for or what tempo he’s going to go at once he goes into the triplets and sixteenth notes. In other words, he’s playing with copious amounts of rubato. Gen tells himself it’s to practice really getting his tone right in the runs, but even he realizes that that’s absolute bullshit. 

 

A—F—E flat—C–B–E flat whole note. 

 

Gen frowns, it sounds boring.

 

He tries again, more emphasis on the first eight note.

 

A—F—E flat— C –B–E flat.

 

Still boring. Should he make the vibrato more intense?

 

A—F—E flat— C –B–E flat~~~~~, he shakes his wrist loosely.

 

Gen skips to page five and works on the technical parts some more.

 

He practice technique for thirty minutes before feeling pretty confident in his ability to run it through. What is now bothering him is musicality, again.

 

When Gen is about to open up his laptop to search for the backstory of why Béla Bartók wrote the concerto, the soft melodious buzzing reaches his ears. It’s Senku’s playing from next door.

 

En Foret?  

 

He’d recognize those aggressive trills from anywhere.

 

Gen stands still listening to Senku’s playing through the walls for a bit. Senku is good, for sure. His technique and rhythm especially are impeccable. His tone is good as well, and Gen is surprised he can keep it from fracking especially as he crescendos through the fast phrases. The expression isn’t totally there, but it’s still a fitting piece and a fitting way to play it for Senku.

 

Gen lets out a huff of envy before resuming his search. A couple of articles and links clicked later he finds that Bartok wrote this piece when it was commissioned to him by William Primrose who was a renowned violist at the time. He wanted Bartók to write a piece that was challenging for the viola.

 

It’s certainly challenging, alright, Gen thinks.

 

Bartók took it as an opportunity to use viola to express deeper emotions, particularly because he was battling with his own chronic illness at the time. In fact he died of leukemia before finishing the piece, and his friend Tibor Serly was the one to help complete it based off the sketches he had.

 

“So writing music even when facing terminal illness…” Gen mutters quietly, bringing his viola back under his chin.

 

A — F — E flat — C – B –E flat whole note~~.

 

Ah, so that was the feeling Bartok wanted.

 

How passionate, Gen thinks with a soft smile, standing isolated in a practice room he doesn’t want to be in.

Notes:

hey! second chapter done! isn't that nice?

i'm not going to lie i went into this fic thinking i would struggle with senku's character way more than gen's. who knew that writing the mentalist would be so tricky? everytime i wrote a scene i'd check it against cannon gen and get such heavy whiplash. i'm still not totally satisfied, but i think i've finally found an alright mix between fannon and cannon though haha, but please let me know if you think i'm crazy! i hope to maybe grow his character through the arc into the most believable verson of him, but also maybe that won't work, idk we'll see lol

not going to lie i kind of forgot that they were music majors, but i hope the practicing scene fixed that LOL

the ellipse lecture hall thing might be total bs, idk i just think foci are cool lmao sue me

special thank you to my viola friend for putting up with my dumb questions (does rosin come before or after tightening the bow?)

thank you for reading! see you next chapter!

edit: so sorry if you happened to see any of the unhinged author notes i left within the work, they weren't meant to be there lol, thanks!

Chapter 3

Notes:

I watched like 3 different videos of gustavo dudamel rehearsing for ts

Senku sits in his seat, gazing lazily up at the round stage lights.

 

“More strings, I need more!”

The lights are yellowish, making Senku feel warmer than he actually is. His fingers press into his keys aggressively, fingering through the piece in an effort to stay engaged.

 

“No, no. I don’t mean be louder, more espressivo. Da DA da da, yeah? This is elegant.”

 

It’s strange how he feels so hot to the point he’s almost sweating even when Japan is moving towards winter. It’s currently early October, but a cold front came in recently which explains why everyone wore an extra layer to rehearsal today. Senku’s taken off his jacket a long time ago, yet he still feels so humid. Could it be because of the sheer amount of people in the room? Or is it because the AC is turned higher than usual?

 

He takes a swig of water and his mind clears for about a second before having to fight to keep his brain from melting again. He really should have taken the time to pack an extra Monster before leaving yesterday.

 

“Yes! Okay, that’s the idea. Let’s start from the top of bar forty…no wait start four measures before the big number three!”

 

Senku shakes his head, flinching when his brain feels like it collides with his skull. He doesn’t have time to linger on it though because Dr. Xeno’s hands have already started coming up to cue him.

 

And there’s his solo. F sharp, A, F sharp. Quarter notes to pass onto the clarinets. How exhilarating, he thinks sarcastically. Slow pieces were never his favorite, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t make him feel anything .

 

“It’s just you here, Senku; you can bring it out a little more,” Xeno calls out to him while the orchestra is still playing.

 

Senku nods and grabs his pencil to write mf   under his part before bringing his mouthpiece to his lips and buzzing the next little phrase. G sharp, B, G sharp. At least it isn’t whole notes, he thinks.

 

Then he’s resting again. Flutes, oboe solo, clarinet solo, bassoon solo– this movement really is the most enjoyable for woodwinds. They sound really pretty, Senku reflects. Everyone in the flute section blends their sound well, and Ruri absolutely nails her solo. Her reedy sound doesn’t come off irritating at all, rather portraying a sense of longing and sorrow. Tsukasa doesn’t do bad either, his tone complimenting Ruri’s well and adding a new color into the music.

 

As the double reeds wrap up their solos, Senku and Ukyo’s instruments come up to their face as french horn and flute start trading melodies. The french horn’s brassy yet warm sound melts into the flute’s lighter yet still enriching sound (thanks to Ukyo’s skill). 

 

As they near the end of the section, the orchestra swells together and they play the first chord before Dr. Xeno stops them.

 

“That was okay. Strings, especially violins, are a little too loud at…” Dr. Xeno flips through his big conductor score rapidly, “eight. Don’t back away on the open harmonics so much, it sounds like you went ‘Dada_dada’, don’t do that. It needs to be more refined and carried through. You can have it float elegantly, but we still need to hear it.”

 

Senku blows air silently through his instrument, entirely unbothered by what Dr. Xeno has to say right now. His only task for the time being is staying awake during rehearsal. The good part about this is that the current movement they’re working on isn’t technically difficult, at least for the horns. The bad part is that it’s a slow piece, and the slower the piece, the faster Senku fears he’ll dive head first into his music stand.

 

He starts thinking about energy drinks to stay awake. Maybe he’ll start trying Celsius instead of Monster all the time. His old band director was obsessed with Celsius–maybe for good reason. But if he wants to try Celsius, he’ll have to get it from overseas. Maybe that’s a sign he shouldn’t drink it. Perhaps he’ll just stick with Monster, but what if Celsius is worth all the hype? Then again, he could also just go home and sleep.

 

Why is he so tired today? Senku’s expression turns from pondering to confusion. He’s stayed up late plenty of times before, so why is he this sleepy today? The only difference between this time and other times was sleeping in a car with Gen.

 

While it was his first time sleeping in someone else’s car, he knows other people do it all the time, and they usually seem fine the day after. Senku could just chalk it up to him being different and having the inability to sleep well in vehicles, but some of the best sleep he’s ever gotten were on buses to and from concerts in his high school band days. 

 

So having eliminated that variable, that only leaves Gen.

 

The Mentalist, huh, Senku thinks, eyes slowly drifting over to the boy in mind.

 

Senku expected to part ways after their practice session, but they both happened to finish at around the same time and get lunch together. Then they dilly-dallied in the library, finishing essays and other assignments until they went to rehearsal together at 4:30. He really should’ve just spent that time sleeping, or at the very least have had some caffeine. Sometimes he ignores his body’s needs, sure, but he’s never straight up not noticed them before.

 

His eyes land on Gen sitting to the front left of his view.

 

He…he’s playing Block Blast on his phone? In rehearsal?

Senku blinks aggressively trying to distinguish whether or not that is a hallucination from his sleep deprived mind. 

 

Holy shit, maybe I do need to start sleeping more.

 

The thought leaves him when he realizes that he’s completely sane. Asagiri Gen is indeed playing Block Blast in the middle of rehearsal. As if reality is trying to drill the message into Senku’s mind, Gen places a block that clears the entirety of the screen, the words “All Clear” flash in colorful letters accompanied by confetti.

 

Senku almost chokes when he eyes Gen’s highscore. 

 

144,410?! Just how long has he been playing?

 

Senku observes Gen, fascinated by the display of rebellion right in front of his eyes. Gen places a block whenever he has rests or whenever Dr. Xeno is talking, but his eyes never leave the screen. He doesn’t even need to look at the music–his eyes remain trained on the most brain rotted app in all of existence.

 

Senku really can’t decide if he’s impressed or horrified. Unlike Kinro, he’s not really an obsessive rule follower, but something as devious as being on his phone during rehearsal has never crossed his mind.

 

His poor stand partner, Senku thinks, sympathizing heavily with the girl next to Gen who looks so very nervous for him. And it’s when Senku stifles a chuckle seeing Gen fumble a crucial piece, he realizes his eyelids no longer feel as heavy.

 

---

 

Chrome is the first to speak. “Are you ready to go?”

“I just might pass out at the dining table,” Senku groans into his stand. His music and binder are all in his bag, leaving an empty stand he turned into a mini table to lay his head on.

“That’s not good,” Kohaku mutters. “Did anything happen? You look like shit.”

 

“I haven’t had a single drop of caffeine all day.”

“Aw…poor you and your addiction, this might be an actually good change of pace for once,” Kohaku teases while poking her finger into the light green parts of his hair, fascinated.

 

Senku’s hand goes up to swat Kohaku’s away. “Ugh, quit doing that. No sympathy for someone experiencing withdrawal symptoms I see.”

 

“You know those things are, like, scientifically bad for you, right?” Yuzuriha tries, using the buzzword ‘science’ to hopefully elicit any kind of response.

 

“And living is scientifically bad because we’re all going to die one day.”

The group sighs collectively. They’ve all tried talking Senku out of his addiction plenty of times before, but to no avail. Ever since the kid discovered a way to hack his body into being more productive, he hasn’t been able to stop at all, no matter how bad the crashes got.

 

Tsukasa speaks up. “You should still eat something.”

 

“Never said I wasn’t gonna go, just give me a sec..”

 

“Hey! Gen is going to join us again today!” comes Ryuusui’s booming voice, causing Senku to wince and bury his head deeper into his arms.

 

“That’s great!” comes Ukyo’s voice from somewhere that Senku’s unable to place right now. “It was so much fun hanging out with you yesterday.”

“Likewise.”

 

In a sea of sounds too loud for Senku’s brain, Gen’s scratches a weird itch. Like the clear sound of a woodwind solo after a loud chaotic chord. Senku loves his friends, and it’s not that he finds their voices annoying, but currently every sound that enters his brain collides against the walls seven hundred times, leaving him utterly disoriented. Well, every sound except that of Gen’s voice. Maybe he just naturally has a soothing therapist voice, Senku reasons.

 

“Senku! Wake up!” Taiju’s voice cuts through the momentary peace in his mind, hurting his head even worse than Ryuusui’s.

 

“Aaaaaaaah, okay okay big oaf just shut up for a second.” Senku slowly lifts his head, eyes squinting hard to distract from the pain in his head. He opens his eyes slightly and finds a face with gray eyes and a teasing smile. The irregular strand of white hair hangs from the face.

 

“Welcome back, Senku-chan. We were starting to wonder if we were ever going to see that face of yours again.” Gen’s lips are pulled back into a mischievous toothless smile. His eyelashes are long, Senku observes.

 

Senku heaves himself off the music stand with great effort, not replying. He observes that his ears warmed a little. He frowns, concluding that his headache is getting worse because it’s spreading heat to his face as well. He picks up his bag and slings his french horn case over his shoulder, resolving to take some acetaminophen later.

 

---

 

Gen is a lot more talkative at dinner today. He still doesn’t eat much, Senku notes, but at least he’s more sociable.

 

“Violin intonation was a mess, honestly,” Ukyo sighs.

Gen nods, “Right? They get so much hype though.” He sighs dramatically.

 

“They do tend to make fun of violas, huh?” Ruri comments.

 

“Yes! They do! It’s so not air-fay.”

 

“It’s weird to me why string instruments struggle with intonation so much, just move your finger a little more?” Ukyo mutters.

 

Ryuusui laughs. “Not everyone has perfect pitch, Ukyo. They don’t realize they’re out of tune.”

“I’m not sure it’s as simple as just moving your finger a little though,” Yuzuriha supplies.

 

“You play the harp , your instrument is always going to be in tune while you play,” Senku mutters, rubbing his temples. “Assuming you tuned it correctly beforehand.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Senku, do you need to lie down?” Taiju asks.

 

“Maybe..” the man in question grumbles.

 

His head is lying on the table, dinner beside him forgotten. The lights of the dining hall are so bright, and he’s unnaturally warm. He thought maybe it’d get better if he drank water, but it turns out you can’t reverse the effects of binge drinking energy drinks with just a few cups of water.

 

“Do you need to go home?” Tsukasa asks, lowering his voice. At least he’s considerate, Senku thinks sourly, unlike Taiju or Ryuusui, though he knows it’s not their fault. 

 

“Maybe,” he repeats.

 

“Can you take him home?” Ukyo asks Gen. 

 

“Ah..sure, it’d be my pleasure.” Did Gen sound unsure? Senku tries not to worry about his tone, he’s probably way too out of it to even be able to differentiate reluctance or something else anyways. “But, how else are you going to get to one of your dorms?”

“We’ll walk like we normally do,” Ukyo says easily.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, no worries. Just text us when you’re done and we’ll tell you where we’re staying if you want to come by and play with us.”

Text? Since when did they get each other's numbers? Senku thinks. He realizes he’s being entirely way too bitchy right now, but he’s so desperate for sleep or a drink or something that he allows himself the moment of immaturity. 

 

It feels like an hour passes before Gen pokes Senku’s head lightly, telling him to get up so he can get him home.

 

It is a very arduous process. Senku’s head spins every time he takes a step forward, holding his heavy instrument and other class stuff doesn’t help either. Gen ends up shouldering all his bags, leaving only the french horn for Senku to carry. 

 

As if getting to the car wasn’t hard enough, getting to his dorm is difficult. He lives on the third floor, which means stairs.

“C’mon Senku-chan, we’re almost there.”

 

“Auhg,” he grumbles unhappily. The lights of the hallway and stairwell blind him against the dark night sky, and the buzz of random bugs only irritates him more.

When they finally, finally make it to his dorm, Senku barely has enough energy to even stand.

 

“What’s your pin?”

 

“3721.”

 

The door opens with a little beep and Senku practically flies into his bed, face down into his sheets, everything smelling new after he hasn’t been home in over a day. 

 

“Thanks,” he calls out when he hears Gen walk in quietly, setting down the bag he helped carry for Senku. He signaled for Gen to leave with the word of appreciation, but he can’t say he’s ungrateful when he hears the sound of the tap running somewhere in his dorm and the subsequent thunk of glass hitting his nightstand. 

 

“I knew you were a hard worker, but eriously-say, having this much Monster should be a crime.”

 

Senku groans incoherently for the umpteenth time that day. He turns to lay face up on his bed, and slightly opens his eyes, looking for wherever Gen’s voice is coming from.

“Yeah, well it should be a crime for how well it works.”

Gen snorts, “It does not work that well if the crash is this bad.” He pauses, “I heard Celsius doesn’t cause crashes that bad, have you tried it?”

“Dude, I was just thinking about that in rehearsal today.”

“Eally-ray? I was playing Block Blast.”

 

“I know, I saw.”

“What? You’re telling me you weren’t totally one hundred percent focusing during rehearsal?” Gen gasps, “Deducting one hundred good orchestra kid points from you!”

 

“I’ll be deducting ten billion from you then. Genuinely, who the hell goes on their phone during rehearsal?” Senku shoots back. “You’re so lucky that Dr. Xeno didn’t catch your ass.”

Gen laughs. “For sure,” he agrees. 

 

They chat idly for a little bit. Senku pats his bed lightly, inviting Gen to come over and sit. Gen accepts the invitation, and Senku rolls over a little to accommodate. Gen asks Senku why he started playing his instrument, to which he responds the reason being that it only had three keys.

 

“You’re oking-jay.”

“Why would I be?”

“That is so…” Gen pauses for a second, “that’s so Senku.”

“The hell does that even mean?”

“Such a pragmatic response, you really wouldn’t expect that from anyone else, you know?”

“Eh, it’s not all that, I think the sound is nice too. It’s, like, the least obnoxious brass instrument in my opinion.”

“Oh I totally agree with that.”

“How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Why’d you pick viola?”

 

“Oh…I don’t know. It has a nice sound I guess. I mean, technically I transferred from violin, but honestly I think the sound is nicer. And it suits me more, you know?” Gen plays with the white part of his hair a little.

“I agree.”

“Yeah, violins can be shrill sometimes.”

“Nah, I meant it definitely suits you more.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know…it’s just so…Gen, you know?”

 

They look at each other, almost engaging in a staring contest. Like politicians saying the most absurd things with a straight face. Gen frowns.

 

“That was so cringe.”

 

“Was it?”

 

“I mean, a little.”

“Why? You practically said the same thing earlier.”

“It’s just not the same when you do it.” 

 

They stare at each other.

 

And then they laugh.

 

---

 

Gen leaves about an hour after he initially drops Senku off once Senku’s responses got less and less enthusiastic. Senku tried to keep the conversation going, but it was clear to both of them that what he needed was rest.

 

Now Senku has been left alone in his room. He can hear the soft whirring of the air conditioning. He always found the sound comforting. Somewhere between a G and an A flat (he grabbed his tuner out of curiosity once), the noise has always been a comforting reminder that everything is working. There is power in his home, technology exists, he’s safe in a room in Japan somewhere. Whether he was tinkering on some science project or doing score studies, it was a comforting presence that Senku learned to love.

 

So imagine his surprise when the note now sounds out of tune. It’s always been out of tune, he reasons. He’s just noticing it now. But why is he noticing it just now? Probably just my headache, is the last thought he thinks before drifting off to sleep. 

 

***

 

He wakes up randomly at 2:42 am, finding his headache to have subsided mostly. Sleep really does do wonders, he thinks in amazement. Rolling over to his phone, he sees a message from the second chair french horn player.

He’s surprised. They aren’t really friends necessarily, it’s just that they were relatively similar in playing level, so they decided to pair up and perform a duet together for Solo and Ensemble. It wasn’t really time to prepare for Solo and Ensemble yet though, so Senku’s intrigued by why he texted.

 

Hey Senku! So some people playing a brass quartet asked me to join, and they like rly needed people, so i joined. But the music they picked out is lwok not easy…so i might have to drop our thing. Sry

 

What a fucking asshole.

 

Senku wants to chew out this bastard so bad, but he can already feel the headache that would induce. He’s clearly made up his mind and won’t be changing it soon. The best course of action would be to find a replacement.

The other two french horns in the orchestra were already doing other things for solo and ensemble, so that would be out of the question. He’s already picked out a piece for two french horns, so it’d be best to find an instrument with similar ranges and just transpose it to be wherever it needed to be.

 

Bicolored hair and long lashes outlining gray irises flash into his mind unprompted. 

 

Gen..? Senku is amazed by his own brain sometimes. 

 

It is true that viola and french horns have similar ranges, and their sounds could compliment each other nicely. Gen is a talented musician too, and even though their interactions are limited, Senku knows from hearing Gen play and seeing his confidence in rehearsal that he wouldn’t have that hard of a time trying to pull a duet together with him.

 

He opens up his contacts to try and see if he could actually salvage the situation, only to realize that he doesn’t have Gen’s number.

Notes:

um! so writing is hard! shocker, i know! i'll probably edit this whole thing very heavily once i finish it (whenever that is), but if you're still here reading, thanks so much for bearing with the odd pacing and my indecisiveness on what to do with the characters! i swear i'll plan out their dialouge sometimes but then my fingers just take over and i end up writing something i didn't think i would write. but if the characters spoke then they spoke? idk help, maybe i'm taking ts too seriously T^T. criticism is still VERY much appreciated

good news: we have pretty much just gotten out of exposition land, second half of inciting incident/rising action awaits!

btw, the orchestra piece they rehearse in this is a real piece! you can have a go at guessing which one lol, it's pretty famous

updates might slow a little because ap scores are coming out and i'll probably cry when i get them haha (it's not funny, i'm so cooked) so yeah, emotional recalibration might be in my schedule instead of writing, but i'll be okay because season four part two is coming out soon!! i'm so excited!!! rahhh

thanks so much for reading, see you next chapter!

Chapter 4

Notes:

hihi sorry this one came out so late, i was originally tryna format a skin so i could add the instagram text and make it actually look like instagram....yeah i'm not very good at coding gang so it took me a while and then before i knew it a week had passed since the last upload and i was like "ahh okay screw formatting i should just publish what i have"

so maybe i'll update it one day and we'll get pretty text formatting, otherwise for now we're just going to have to stick with italics, sorry

also we have FANART?! my wonderful wonderful friend drew this, and she's never even seen the show! how awesome is that?! she legit only knows cuz she tolerates all my yap about sengen LOL, anyways here it is! i absolutely ADORE all the details she put in!!

enjoy!

@ishigami.senku started following you. (10 mins ago)

@ishigami.senku sent you a message. (9 mins ago)

 

When Gen receives the notification, he literally blinks twice to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. 

 

It’s 3 am and Gen has been taking micro naps while doom scrolling in his bed for the past hour and a half. The lights were dim, and he’s tucked into bed nicely; it’s a peaceful sight if you ignore the mess of papers (mostly sheet music, but sometimes notes and articles) scattered all about and the overflowing trash can filled with cup ramen somewhere in the room. Sure, he could be sleeping, or even working on that thesis due. But why would he, when it’s not what he wants to do and instant dopamine is better than drugs, after all.

 

But the notifications broke the weird limbo he was in, and now Gen is wide awake staring at his phone. 

 

The scientist has social media?

 

No way, is that the same Senku Ishigami he was thinking of?

 

Followed by - @tsukasa.shishio101001, @nanami!navigates!, @kohaku.tma, @myearshurt… + 4 others.

 

Okay, so definitely him. Gen doesn’t know what else he expected when he opened up his profile to confirm. It's not like Stone God Thousand Skies is a common name to just give your child willy-nilly unless you are a supreme nerd. 

 

Senku

Hi i need a favor

 

A scam account? No, he had too many followers for that and his account wasn’t created recently. Did he get hacked? If he did it’s unlikely that his account would go through the process of following Gen’s account, even if they did have mutuals.

 

Dunno if ur busy tho

Gen

huh sure what is it

 

Senku

For solo and ensemble, i was playing a duet with a guy but then he bailed, can you fill in?

 

Gen

uhhhhh

not sure i’m the one you want for this

 

Senku

The other french horns are all busy, and viola and frnch horn have similar ranges

I mean if ur busy that’s ok too

 

Gen

what piece?

 

Senku

The twelve mozart duets

 

Gen

wow ok dunno what else i expected from the overachiever

 

Senku

Bruh

Anyways, normally i wouldn’t ask you, but ik all my other friends are busy/instruments aren’t compatible

But I’ve already started practicing a lil

And ik ur good

 

Gen

--Replying to “But I’ve already started practicing a lil”--

of course u have

--Replying to “And ik ur good”--

aw thanks senku-chan

flattery won’t get u anywhere tho ( ˘ ³˘)

 

Senku

Bruh r u gonna do it or not

Gen

sure, why not

tbh i haven’t considered doing any ensemble for solo and ensemble

but it’ll look good!!

r u gonna be transposing it or smth?

 

Senku

Really? Thanks so much

Seriously, you just saved my ass

 

--Replying to "r u gonna be transposing it or smth?"--

Yeah fsfs, dw about that, i’ll get the part to you when needed

He’s about to double tap the message to signal the end of the conversation, but he stops himself. Gen almost wants to say something else. The conversation doesn’t warrant it, but is it bad if he wants to keep talking a little longer? 

 

But what to say? There’s nothing else there is to say. Gen knows he and Senku aren’t close enough to randomly strike up conversation, but it technically wouldn’t be horrible if he were to nudge the conversation along a little more because it was actually Senku who started the conversation. But also , if he left the conversation as is now, he would most definitely seem the most nonchalant.

 

So he exits out of the message space to almost doomscroll Instagram reels for a couple hours instead before he stops himself. He’s curious to see what a music major and something science minor’s bio looks like. Is it going to be obnoxiously filled with all sorts of awards? A bible verse? A cringy quote perhaps?

No.

 

It’s empty.

 

It’s literally his profile picture, his display name, pronouns, and no bio. Not even the university name and the year he graduates. The account says he has two posts, but they’re hidden because it’s a private account. 

 

At least he has a profile picture. It’s a good thing he isn’t some pretentious person with the anonymous default one , Gen muses. 

 

Gen’s about to follow him back when he decides to first observe his profile picture.

 

His picture is just an average photo that was definitely not taken by his request. He looks much younger and is wearing a school shirt while carrying his french horn on his back. He isn’t looking at the camera—completely unaware that his photo is being taken—but his face is still completely visible. With Gen’s limited understanding of him, he figures that one of his friends probably took that picture while on a school trip and got it sent to him afterwards. Gen figures that Senku doesn’t take many photos of himself, leading him to believe that Senku arbitrarily chose that photo out of any other one in his gallery because it was the only one his face was in, even if it was a little older.

 

Gen squints as he pinches the screen to enlargen it. He frowns.

 

How is that fair?

Senku looks photogenic, even when he gets randomly clipped. Even while in middle school, when everyone looks the worst. 

 

Even with his ridiculous hair! Not that Gen’s one to talk, but at least the black and white has a certain vibe to it. He’d know, since he pulls girls left and right, somehow (he’s aware that he has some charisma, but that doesn’t mean he knows why). But that white hair? Green tips? Why does he look like a leek? Why does he pull it off? Why does he look kind of nice? Why does Senku pull?

 

Why does Senku pull?

 

The thought gets Gen to pause. 

 

Does Senku pull?

 

Gen doesn’t even realize how he thought that. His previous train of thought did not lead to that one whatsoever…and yet here he is, seriously pondering one of his neuron’s misfirings. 

 

Senku is conventionally attractive, no doubt; coupled with his confidence and nonchalance — there’s a high likelihood that he’s had girls like him, if not chase him.

 

Gen doesn’t want to unpack how that realization made him feel. But that sentence implies that he felt something, which he most definitely did not. Or so he tells himself.

 

He rolls over in his bed and drops his phone on the nightstand, resolving to just sleep. Gen will never end up telling Senku this, but that night he went to sleep thanking him for stopping him from scrolling for another hour. 

 

---

 

Gen wakes up at eight the next day. He rises from his bed glamorously, yawning and stretching like a disney princess. He then slips on his cute slippers that are resting neatly at the foot of his bed and walks out the door to his bathroom. Gen brushes his teeth and washes his face, has a light breakfast, changes, and walks out the door until— 

He wakes up at eleven with his sheets incorrectly oriented, toes sticking out and arms flung about in the bed. His hair is messy and greasy. He gets out of bed a mess. He’s woken up from a dream about getting up. 

 

What a great day to be stuck in the same place again.

 

He does have cute slippers, but they are not resting neatly at the foot of his bed. Rather, one is under his bed and the other randomly flung somewhere else. Cute little black and white cat slippers, a birthday gift from his parents. He wants to see them again, but that would require having to clean his entire dorm to find them, something he really can’t be bothered to do right now.

 

He brushes his teeth, because he’ll feel gross if he doesn’t. Even if he doesn’t play an instrument requiring his mouth, he still likes to feel clean. He contemplates not washing his face, but not really wanting to risk a break out, he does so anyway. His skin care routine isn’t very complicated, just face wash and moisturizer plus sunscreen. 

 

He skips breakfast on the account of the fact that it’s practically lunch time anyways, and pulls over a purple cardigan over a white sleeveless turtleneck. Enough to look like he’d be burning, but not enough to actually be dying of heatstroke. Besides, the temperatures are cooling, settling nicely near fifteen degrees Celsius.  

 

He has a string quartet rehearsal later today with a group of very fun and passionate individuals. But the time for that is about five hours away. Other than that, he just has an evening composition class at seven, the rest of his day is open for practicing and doing whatever he wants pretty much. 

 

He’ll see Senku today, Gen notes. He’s in his composition class.

 

Gen slides on a pair of flip flops (perhaps a fashion sin, but he was never one to trap his feet in tight confines), grabs his viola case and bag of music and heads out the door. In his car, Gen reserves a practice room for twelve and steps on the gas. His destination? Murasaki Cafe. It’s close, it’s good, and most importantly, it’s reasonably priced.

 

It’s the same though.

 

Gen doesn’t really know why he started the whole coffee thing. He thinks it tastes fine, and though he’s not really the most energetic, he doesn’t rely on caffeine. However, a cup of coffee every morning for a university student just seemed like the correct thing to do. A music major, sitting in a cafe, enjoying coffee while reading some older work of literature, but not that old. Today it’s Postwar Japanese literature. He feels like a pinterest board. Isn’t this the life? This is something he wants, something many are dreaming to be, something so many people would kill for even the chance of being in his shoes. Above all else, something he’s really suited for. 

 

The door chimes as customers walk in and out. It takes him about ten minutes to drive from here to the practice rooms. He has a nice twenty or so minutes to sit here and to properly enjoy Mishima’s words. 

 

Ting-a-ling .

 

“Hi, welcome in, anything we can get for you?”

“Uh…a hot…Americano?”

 

Well, so much for Mishima.

Gen turns his head toward the direction of the new voice. As expected, a guy who looks taller than he actually is (courtesy of reality-altering hair) stands at the counter, squinting at the menu hanging above.

“What kind of milk would you like?”

“Uh…the default option…?”

 

The bartender hides his disappointment behind his customer service smile very well, Gen wants to applaud the gentlemen.

 

“For here or to-go?”

“To-go.”

 

“Alright, that’ll be about four hundred twenty yen, please!”

 

Gen watches Senku try and hide a pained expression before taking out and swiping his card. When he’s about to turn around, Gen quickly ducks his head to try and avoid being seen. 

 

“Oh, hey Mentalist.”

 

Of course, what can escape the great scientist’s sight?

 

Gen still has one course of action, though admittedly quite lame. He ignores Senku, gently swaying his head pretending like the music he’s playing in his nonexistent earbuds is up really loud, and that he’s very passionately listening to the current phrase. He also buries his face deeper into the book, hoping to look as into it as one can possibly be to send the signal of I’m in an aesthetic mood right now, talk to me later.

 

That plan works for about five seconds when Senku sits right in across from Gen. Evidently, Senku does not know what the fuck an aesthetic mood is. 

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“What? Oh, hello to you too, Senku-chan! I didn’t know you were here!” Gen slaps on a smile and gently closes his book, seeing as there is no escaping the situation now. 

 

“What are you reading?”

“Your mom.”

That definitely catches Senku off-guard. Hell, it caught Gen off guard as well. He’s not the most mature person his age, but he certainly doesn’t usually resort to middle school level retorts to answer things he doesn’t want to answer.

 

“Dude, I thought we left that behind in grade school.”

We? Gen scoffs internally at the familiarity term. Who does Senku think he is, trying to establish rapport with him with such subtle word choice? But Gen knows better, he’s been in the trenches of Psychology Today and various articles with buzzwords like “emotionally intelligent” in the title when he was fourteen. He will not let Senku get the better of him.

 

Gen sticks his tongue out, “Orry-say, it just slips out sometimes.”

 

Senku’s corners pull back in a frown, and he hums a disbelieving “uh huh..” before leaning over the table to try and take a glimpse of what was in Gen’s hands.

 

“Mishima? I can’t even call you ‘Mentalist’ anymore if you said ‘your mom’ referring to him,” Senku mutters, “He can’t even be a mother.”

“Ah…Senku-chan, ever the straight-man archetype,” Gen sighs and rests cheeks in his palms, sipping lazily at his coffee, “Poor Barista-kun didn’t even know what to do with you and your ‘default milk option’.”

 

“I never really understood that stereotype, you know,” Senku mirrors Gen’s movements, his eyes glancing back over to the coffee pick up station.

“Pardon?”

“The straight-man thing.”

Gen cocks his head to the side, “Why not?”

“A lot of people tell me that I ‘fit’ that… which doesn’t make a lot of sense considering that I’m not straight.”

 

“...pardon?”

But Gen’s words don’t reach his ears because Senku’s name gets called and Senku very nonchalantly, like he didn’t just drop a bomb of information inviting a flood of questions as casually as you announce going to play pickleball on a Saturday evening, walks to get his drink.

 

Gen’s mind recalibrates every thought he’s ever had. Does Senku pull girls? Well just because he may not be interested in them doesn’t mean that they can’t still be lured by his charm. In any case, it’s relieving to know that Senku doesn’t reciprocate any of their feelings.

 

Relieving? Gen shakes his head because there is no way he just thought that. Then he realizes that just because he said he’s not straight doesn’t mean he can’t be into girls, maybe he’s bi. Sexuality doesn’t matter at all when being acquaintances or even friends which only means one thing for Gen if he’s overthinking it this much…

 

Thankfully, he doesn’t even get the chance to reflect further on any of those mushy feelings because Senku sits back down, as casually as ever. Senku leans back in his seat and takes up all the space as he needs. 

 

Pompous , Gen thinks critically, arrogant, cocky, orrible-hay, gross, nerd…

 

Gen has this thing where the more he likes someone, the more critical he becomes, both internally and externally (though it’s mostly internal because he is also very afraid of conflict). But then again, he literally doesn’t give a shit about Senku’s sexuality, really! Who cares? Who cares…

 

“Senku-chan? I thought you had gotten your coffee to-go.”

“Oh, yeah…I did, but I’m not going to practice until I get lunch first,” Senku holds up a bag of cafe food he just purchased.

 

“That’s not…eally-ray food, you know,” Gen feels the need to clarify in case Senku truly has zero survival instinct.

 

“Eh, it can be brunch.”

“Are you even going to feel full after that?”

“Probably not, but it’s whatever.”

 

Senku takes a bite of a croissant. Gen watches and feels his hunger creeping up.

 

“I’m going to get one too,” he announces.

 

So there they are, two music majors munching on not-real-food at 11:40 am, not making eye-contact. Senku’s on his phone, scrolling an article from the looks of it, and Gen has picked up his book, trying to get in the mood of reading again. But the task is proving to be rather difficult as his eyes keep seeming to drift over to Senku.

 

Suddenly, Senku turns his phone off and throws the croissant bag away. He stays at the table though, sipping his coffee while thoughtfully looking past Gen.

 

“It looked like you were listening to something earlier.”

Gen cringes, “Ah…no, not really.”

“I figured, you don’t have any auditory devices on you at the moment.”

“Yeah…” Gen notices the airpod stuck in Senku’s ear, “You do though. What are you listening to?”

 

“The Lark.”

 

“Piano music?”

 

Senku shrugs.

 

“Why airpods over any other earbud?” Gen keeps the conversation going.

 

Senku pauses, “Uh…because they’re popular, I guess?”

 

“Hm, why not headphones?”

 

Senku gives him a look before answering.

 

“Kinda feels weird with my hair, also looks weird.” He gestures to the great bush above his head.

 

Gen gets surprised by the chuckle he lets out.

 

“Oh my…I never considered that before! That’s…”

 

“Really dumb?” Senku says with a straight face, unsurprised.

“No…well, yes…but not because your hair is dumb or anything,” Gen reassures, even though he definitely does think it is at least a little dumb. “I mean…I’ve never seen anything like it…is it…”

 

“Is it real?” Senku guesses.

 

Gen nods.

 

“Ten billion percent, somehow,” He answers.

 

Gen laughs again. Senku’s hair is just one of those things that are so bizarre you just let it go until you come back and analyze it and that’s when you realize how truly weird it is.

 

“How?”

“Fuck if I know,” Senku grumbles, “I think my hair is just naturally stiff or something, but it does come down when wet. It’s kinda soft too too, so…static? I’ve done tests, seems to have some correlation with brain waves…I don’t want to bore you with the details or anything, but no gel is involved and it’s certainly not a wig either. Just lots of cowlicks I guess.”

 

“That’s so funny.”

 

It’s Senku’s turn to ask. “What about you, is your hair real?”

“Mhm.”

 

“How?” Senku echoes Gen’s previous question.

 

“Poliosis,” Gen sucks in a breath, ready to provide an explanation.

“Ah, I see.” 

 

That’s it. Of course, Senku’s a scientist, he knows what poliosis is. The lack of needing an explanation is new for Gen, and he for once doesn’t really know how to continue the conversation. It’s refreshing.

 

He finishes his croissant and stands up to throw the wrapper away. It’s time for him to start heading to the practice rooms.

 

“I’m going to go practice. If you are too, I can give you a ride.” Gen offers.

 

---

 

“I seriously do not understand. It’s fucking bean water.”

 

Gen had asked Senku why he showed up at the cafe today, knowing Senku’s addiction to energy drinks he was surprised the overachiever didn’t just stick with those. Senku told Gen that he was doing an experiment, to see if coffee caused crashes as hard as Monster.

 

“You’re telling me you didn’t enjoy it at all ? Does the aroma not entice you? Where is your whimsy?!” Gen cries. He’s not dependent on it whatsoever, but he’s still offended on behalf of all his coffee fans–it tastes nice.

 

“I seriously don’t see why anyone chooses it as their favorite form of caffeine unless there are significant benefits to it with the crash and all that.” Senku wrinkles his nose.

 

“Oh, I get it. You just like the fizz, you can’t handle the superiority of natural ingredients dug up from the ground.”

 

Senku snorts, “You’re one to talk, don’t act like you’re not the one ordering a large coke at three in the morning.” 

 

Gen gasps. How diabolical of him to remember such a detail! And to use it against him? Gen is about to crash his car for that low blow. 

 

“Oh yeah, by the way…” Senku bends down and rummages through his bag while Gen is still trying to rack his brain for a comeback, “I have your music.”

“What music?” So blessed , Gen thinks, not having to return the argument to prove his superiority. They can just forget about it!

 

“The Twelve Duets, thanks for agreeing to help me out, by the way.” Senku finds the music and lays it on top of his bag. 

 

Oh right, Gen totally forgot about that.

 

“Did you transpose that last night?”

“Yup, Musescore will forever be my best friend.”

 

“You don’t use Sibelius?”

“Yeah! Sibelius, would be nice if it wasn’t absolutely useless without premium,” Senku says sarcastically, “But hey Gen, meet Senku, broke music major.”

 

Gen laughs, “Finances are hard, sure, but I’m sure your parents would support you.”

 

“They do,” Senku affirms, “But honestly so many music things are so expensive for no reason, it just doesn’t feel right to bother them about it.”

“Aww, that’s nice, another fifty gentlemen points for you.”

“Okay.”

“What do they even do for a living though? Just wondering,” Gen adds.

 

“Well my dad is an astronaut…”

Gen nearly chokes, but he supposes that makes sense, given Senku’s…Senku.

 

“And my step-mom is like a pop star singer or something.”

Gen nearly chokes, again . This time he barely manages to keep the car steady.

 

“Wow! How interesting-ay. Just out of curiosity, who is it?”

 

“Lilian Weinberg.”

 

Damn Senku and all his no-fucks given energy.

 

“Well…technically they’re both step…wait no…well in any case neither of them are my biological parents and—”

 

Gen barely manages to pull into the parking lot where the practice rooms are without crashing the car from shock. He parks the car and his hands fly from the steering wheel to his face. 

 

“...what.”

 

Gen says it quietly, like a disappointed parent who can’t yell at their four-year-old kid for breaking every last dish in the dishwasher.

 

“What do your parents do–?” Senku tries to return the question before he’s cut off by a loud hiss from Gen.

 

“Hey Senku-chan, I know you’re a nerd and everything, but that kind of information isn’t something to say so casually.”

 

“Why not?” Senku looks genuinely confused, “They’re just my parents?”

 

“Yes…but your parents are exceptional .”

“Thanks? I’ll tell them you said that.”

 

“No…like…you need to…you don’t just casually reveal the fact that you’re a nepo baby when someone is driving, you know.”

“You asked.”

“You could have been like…oh, I don’t know… ‘Gen, I know you’re curious, but maybe I should tell you over a meal’ or something.”

 

“Is it really that serious?” Senku laughs in disbelief.

“YES IT IS.” Gen exclaims but then lowers his tone, “You’re mother is an international star who basically rules the entire pop-music industry with her name.” 

 

Gen looks into Senku’s eyes to make sure he is following, and says his next words very slowly, “That isn’t something to casually drop. That is insane lore.”

 

“I don’t get why you’re mad still.”

“You–! Agh, nevermind,” Gen flops his head onto his steering wheel.

 

“Who are your parents?” Senku’s eyebrow raises.

 

“Ughhh, nobodies compared to yours. I really thought I had the most famous parent competition in the bag.”

“Who are they?” Senku’s eyebrow continues to rise.

Gen pouts, “Just Xeno Wingfield and Stanley Snyder.”

Senku goes quiet. His eyebrows have dropped as well.

 

“What the fuck, Mentalist. You’re the real nepo baby here.”

 

Gen laughs, but Senku stays entirely serious.

 

“You’re idding-kay… two old bums do not compare to the definition of a celebrity and a freaking astronaut .”

 

“No, but those ‘two bums’ are some of the most well respected musicians in the world currently, like Lang Lang!” Senku retorts.

 

Gen rolls his eyes, “Sure, sure. Yes they seem great, but like I said, bums. ”

 

Senku’s look gets no less incredulous, “Our director is your dad. Top orchestra in Tokyo University. Your father .” A flash of realization appears on Senku’s face. “ That’s why you said you were ‘too important’ to be kicked out.”

 

Gen sighs. Of course Senku would remember that slip of the tongue.

 

“I worked very hard to get to where I am, I’ll have you know…” Gen starts, ready to defend his honor.

 

Senku brings a hand up, stopping Gen. “Nah, I definitely believe you. Dr. Xeno is not the type to have someone waltz into his orchestra just because they’re his child,” he grins. “Besides, you’re too good to have just gotten in because Daddy wanted you to.”

 

Gen searches for Senku’s face for any indication of disbelief, but all he finds is sincerity. 

 

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” Gen laughs.

 

And Senku joins in, because they both know he meant what he said.

Notes:

you can actively see me fighting my inner crackhead while writing this

anyways some silly stuff, setting up gen's main character arc, woohoo, how fun, the more i write the worse it feels so i'm just going to have to trust the process on this one instead of wondering if this is just me being crazy lolol

i kinda headcannon gen as a lit nerd, idk maybe it's just because i was super into bsd before dcst, and dazai/gen are equally tumblr coded (being obsessed with these shows also checks out because they're basically literature propaganda and science propaganda lmao)

and yeah, sorry, i'm a victim of popular head cannons. it took a single fic of stanxeno being gen's parents and i was like "yup, correct"

A proper author’s note: Sibelius and musescore are music writing platforms, Sibelius was named after a composer with the same name

thanks for reading! see y'all next chapter, hopefully it won't take a millennia again lol

Chapter 5

Notes:

Im gonna crash out, how dare they release official art of senku playing the saxophone for some dcst orchestra concert?? 1) that makes me look like a hack, and 2) saxophones aren’t even in traditional orchestras

Also im going to cry…ryuusui as a clarinet?? I’m not that mad but…seriously, not a single brass instrument?? where are the strings?? Gen conducting makes sense, and it still aligns with this fic cuz conducting and playing aren’t mutually exclusive so i’m okay with that lol.

Stanley and xeno idrgaf tbh, i have ideas for what their principal instruments would have been, but it doesnt matter because i could always change it to fit “cannon”, but stanley was gonna be a lower instrument anyway, so good on me for that i guess, bass clarinet works.

Anyways here’s the next chapter, sorry it's late, and sorry if you hate it; i don't like it either

“So…thoughts?” Senku huffs, out of breath.

 

“Hmm…not as unsightreadable as I thought it would be,” Gen notes, “The last bit was more challenging than the first part though.”

 

Senku nods in agreement.

 

Originally, they had both booked separate practice rooms, but given the fact that their schedules perfectly lined up, the pair decided to just cancel one and share the other practice room to practice the duet.

 

But getting there was no easy task either. After reaching their room, the two come to find that they’re missing a music stand. While Gen offered Senku to use it, claiming that he’ll manage, Senku insisted on finding another one. Thus began the journey of the two trying to hunt for an extra stand.

 

At first they checked the hallways for any random racks of stands lying around. When they didn’t find any, the boys awkwardly peeked into every practice room to see if there was any stand being unused. They found quite a few “occupied” practice rooms: a good handful of crying students (who they felt too bad to disturb), sleeping students (who they also felt bad too disturb), students who were eating (they swindled a few fries here and there), and students who swore they were practicing, but had actually been mindlessly scrolling Instagram Reels for the past hour and a half. Senku still doesn’t know how, but Gen somehow managed to convince one of the grumpy phone users to lend their stand. Social sorcery was the best explanation he could come up with.

 

It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but since they were both standing up, it was more bearable.

 

Gen grimaces at the fact that Senku is still huffing and puffing, “I do not envy you wind players.” 

 

“Yeah, but I lowkey can’t imagine having to hold my arm up that high for so long either,” Senku replies. 

 

When he first joined band, they let all the students try different instruments to see which one suited them the best. When Senku tried the flute, the worst part wasn’t even the odd embouchure, but rather the ache in his arms from holding it up for so long. Even if having his fist in the bell of his french horn is a little odd, at least he can lean it against his thigh so his arms won’t get tired (except for solo performances, but hey, you win some you lose some). In any case, he’d rather be more out of breath than have aching arms.

 

“Should we practice that part we were having trouble with earlier?” Gen thumbs through his pages, ”Number three Andante?”

 

Senku takes a long sip of water before agreeing.

 

They play the last chunk again. Senku notices how Gen emphasizes down beats, making it easy to sync up. Of course, this isn’t any high-level technique or concept, but Gen has the ability to weave different notes of different lengths together without giving too much time away. 

 

Senku’s always been good at rhythm; he’s good at counting. In the past, when he would worry about timed tests, he’d count the time he had for each question, reassuring that the time was always longer than it seemed. A steady one, two, three— 60 beats per minute, it’s a comforting pace that is also universal; there isn’t a single clock in the world that doesn’t tick in the same intervals. As a result, he’s become very good at counting seconds, and no one else has quite the intuition for time as he does.

 

The next thing he counted was heartbeats. Though they vary greatly, a healthy adult’s resting heart generally beats anywhere from 60 to 100 beats per minute. Following this discovery, Senku often laid in bed with two fingers against his left wrist feeling the gentle tap, tap, tap against his skin. Counting the taps per fifteen seconds and multiplied by four, he finds that his heart rate generally beats at 84 beats per minute. 

 

To be able to figure out at what rate your body can accomplish bloodflow, something essential to being alive was to him —simply put— exhilarating. 

 

He found out that Taiju and Yuzuriha were going into music programs in middle school. He had congratulated them on knowing what they wanted to do, but didn’t care to join himself. He’s a science kid, he reads Carl Sagan for fun, not anything artsy . When his step-mother once framed music as basically counting rhythms, math, and some other stuff (she didn’t specify), he finally considered signing up. 

 

When Senku went to try out the instruments, his best match was percussion. The percussion lesson teacher was so stunned by the child’s ability to count and tap complex polyrhythms that she had insisted he be a part of that section, believing that he could become something, as she put it, spectacular . 

 

Senku ended up choosing french horn because it was his second best and he told all his friends and family that he “didn’t want to face all that pressure to be good” at percussion. It was the logical decision, he said, and he assured everyone that it didn’t have a millimeter to do with how he liked the feeling of buzzing into a mouthpiece more than banging sticks.

 

To nobody’s surprise, playing in middle school ensembles had never been very fun for Senku. He never had any problems with the elementary music, and neither did any of the woodwinds, it seemed. Unfortunately for him, he had the displeasure of being a brass instrument. And so rehearsals for him included repping the same part for sixty percent of the entire rehearsal period because of the hooligans in his section that never practice.

 

Even in ensembles with players similar to his level, counting only seemed to come naturally to him. This isn’t to say other people were bad at counting, just that they weren’t as precisely on the beat or able to feel the click of a metronome as well as Senku could.

 

And so it persists throughout his entire career, the issue of playing with people that just seem to get a little off. It’s never enough to destroy the whole piece, but just enough for it to feel a little uncomfortable.

But Gen is in time. Not the ‘technically’ in time that Senku’s used to hearing, but a scarily accurate, down to the instant, kind of in time. He stretches and accents notes as he pleases to fit the phrase, but when it comes to the next click it is always in line. Senku’s used to hearing his own playing, perfectly in time with admittedly not as much phrasing variety as he’d like, or people that give their all to phrasing and concerning themselves very little with actual rhythm, or somewhere in between. Gen seems to be a God at all of it. It’s hard to believe it’s his first look at the music.

 

Senku’s surprised. Gen didn’t ever strike him as the type to count religiously, or really hammer down on rhythms, so was it something else? Pure talent maybe? But talent can only take someone so far. 

 

It sounds good, really really good. It’s light, bubbly, and fun ; it flows and resonates, making Senku understand why people say ‘music is a universal language’. There is still plenty to work on, the style and articulation for one isn’t entirely matching yet, but for their first ever rehearsal of the piece, it’s astounding.

 

“I guess having musician parents does make you better,” Senku blurts randomly between reps.

 

Gen blinks twice then smiles politely, “I thought we agreed that I got here on my own?”

 

“No, no, I don’t mean it like that,” Senku shakes his head, “But…you’re, like, really good.”

 

“Aww, thanks Senku-chan,” Gen replies sarcastically. “We’re all professional or to-be professional musicians though.”

 

“That’s precisely my point. You’re really good,” Senku repeats.

 

“You’ve said that already.” 

 

“I mean…even better than the other music students.”

“Gee thanks.”

 

Senku nods.

 

“It’d kind of suck if I wasn’t, to be honest,” Gen adds, dropping his viola from his chin and resting the instrument in front of him, “It’s what I’ve learned to do all my life, after all.”

 

Senku raises a brow at this, though he can’t say he’s necessarily surprised. It’s quite common for the children of passionate musicians to follow in their parent’s footsteps. He silently nods in acknowledgement.

“Wanna practice on our own for a bit, then we can end it with another rehearsal?” Senku suggests.

 

“Sure, balancing the practice sesh out!”

“Exactly.”

 

Gen shuffles out of the room with his stand and slides into the empty practice room next door.

 

“Oh wait, do you need to book it?” Senku remembers.

 

“Oh…you’re right,” Gen goes to fish out his phone.

 

Senku lifts his phone to show Gen that he re-booked the room he cancelled earlier. “Nah, don’t bother, I got it.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

The door shuts and the french horn sits in his chair. Should he practice his solo, or his orchestra music? Maybe work on some etudes? Should he go back and work on fundamentals today? In the end, he decides to practice scales.

 

---

 

An hour later Gen knocks on his door, and they rehearse their duet for the remaining half hour they have the practice rooms for.

 

This time it’s even better than the first time. It’s clear that they both ran through it a little, so the technique is much better. On top of that, Gen seems to have figured out what he wants to do with it musically.

 

Senku likes playing his instrument, make no mistake. He likes music and nearly everything associated with it, but when was the last time he could call it fun? 

 

It doesn’t matter when the last time was anymore, because that has become now.

 

Senku enjoys playing right now because it’s fun. Not because he finally got a run after his fingers refusing to obey him for the past hour, not because of satisfaction, not because of anything deep or introspective, but because he can confidently say that playing a duet with the person across from him is fun.

 

When he meets Gen’s gray eyes he can feel connection. He is a bit of a nerd, but he’s not that socially inept; he talks to people. Even so, this is different. He can sense when Gen will pull the next note or when he’ll articulate it more playfully. It’s only when he pulls the instrument away from his face that he realizes he’s grinning.

 

After playing the last note, the two look at each other.

 

“Good.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So nice to play with a good sightreader,” Gen mumbles.

 

Senku huffs out an agreement then checks his watch, “Shit.”

 

“What is it?”

“I’ve got phys chem soon.”

 

“Oh…” 

 

Senku holds prolonged eye contact with Gen. He doesn’t want to say that he needs a ride, he’s been fine using public transport all semester long. Besides, spending extra time with the viola player wouldn’t hurt…

 

Gen, ever the Mentalist, sighs. “Do you need a ride?”

“Only if it doesn’t bother you,” Senku grins.

 

“You’re so ucky-lay the only commitment I have today is composition,” Gen finally says after a beat of silence.

 

“Thanks Mentalist, I owe you one!”

 

---

 

Whoever told Senku learning science in university would be life-changing had clearly never learned science in university.

 

Does Senku find physical chemistry interesting? Absolutely. He likes to think of himself as mostly a physics kind of guy, but he can’t deny the fact he finds chemistry real fun as well. Phys chem is the perfect mix of both, right?

 

Wrong, not because of course material, but because of fuck-ass Professor Yamamoto. Great researcher in his field? Totally. Senku’s actually seen some interesting papers with his name on it. The university made a wise decision in hiring him, but whoever put him in charge of teaching should be behind bars.

 

Focus on the material, think about how awesome thermodynamics are… , Senku tries thinking in an attempt to revive something inside him he feels is being crushed like a flower on the road battered continuously by the rubber car tires going by.

Nothing about this class is interesting. Even o-chem was better than this, not that he enjoyed it that much either. Senku can crunch numbers and follow systematic rules to solve problems well, and he is able to work really well with learning new systems and mechanisms of how molecules and atoms work. He’s a natural at learning and figuring out how the world functions, not solving problems on a sheet of paper (though he’s not bad at that either). Senku likes numbers, and he’s not one to discriminate between types of numbers, so something must be seriously wrong if Senku hates looking at his grades.

 

It’s not even like he hates uni either. There’s a freedom that high school never offered and opportunities around every corner. Never will there be another time in his life where he has minimal responsibilities because he’s a student and still be able to make bad life decisions. So Senku feels a little bad complaining about his classes of all things. But then again, why should he need to figure out a problem a computer could solve when he could be in the field solving real problems?

 

And so, the leek-haired man sits at the front of his class because he made the wrong decision to be eager on the first day and now it’s too awkward to move seats. He tries to take notes, but keeps zoning out. Professor Yamamoto certainly has mastered the art of the monotone voice and rambling, enough to make Senku want to dive his head into his textbook, or off a roof. He thought his o-chem teacher was bad, but at least she has the decency to make her cat stories entertaining .

 

After a torturous seventy-five minutes, he is free. He’s so grateful he could cry. 

 

It’s about 4:30 pm, a perfect thirty minutes for Senku to get a snack and haul his ass back over to the Ueno campus for composition class.

 

Senku isn’t one to procrastinate, but college really hasn’t been helping him build strong habits either. As a result instead of spending the twenty minutes of free time he gets after class to make his homework pile a little lighter, he instead hits up the library to kill time.

 

He enters the General Library, and walks straight to the nonfiction section out of habit. From there he heads straight to the science section out of habit. And from there to the astrophysics section. Suddenly all the books on the shelf all have some variation of the word ‘cosmos’ or ‘theory’ in their title and have a png of any galaxy slapped onto the cover. These are the over sensationalized pop-science books. The legit ones are the ones with multiple editions and look kind of ugly, or weird at best.

 

Senku considers checking out something, but for some reason he’s just not feeling it right now. Maybe he’s still recovering from his class, or maybe he’s just bored. It’s a foreign feeling for him, to not be able to pick up a science book and to groan at the mere thought of it, but it’s a feeling that’s growing ever more frequent for him as well.

 

Maybe that’s just the general physics part of it. Perhaps he’ll find solace in chemistry or biology, he reasons.

 

No titles with ‘Life’ or ‘Element’ sticks out to him. 

 

Very strange indeed. Senku keeps walking.

 

And then there’s the social science section. Senku doesn’t usually make it this far without finding something he wants to read; he’s not quite sure what to do. So like any sane person who is unsure would do, he just goes and commits to moving ahead anyways. 

 

Not his usual genre, not by a longshot. The covers are filled with faces and abstract art, and the word ‘society’ is everywhere. The titles and covers are a lot more creative than the other sciences though, Senku observes.

 

Just as he passes through what feels like the fiftieth monotonous shelf, a figure stands in the way. With the amount of people who enter the library every day, you’d expect more to actually borrow books. But in Senku’s experience, people only really use libraries for their ambience and for the pressure of having focused peers around.

 

So he’s surprised to have to shift his gaze to the obstacle so he can avoid it. He’s even more surprised when he sees that weird black and white haircut.

 

“Mentalist?”

 

The other boy looks up. “Senku-chan?”

 

“I didn’t take you for a reader.” Senku leans against a bookshelf behind him, standing across from Gen. It’s definitely bullshit because Senku literally saw Gen reading at the cafe earlier today, but how else is he supposed to make small talk?

 

“Neither did I.” Gen snaps the book he was flipping through closed, his eyes now on Senku.

 

“I think you’re the first person I’ve ever seen actually use the library for its intended purpose since schools started.”

“Yeah, same here.”

 

Senku eyes the book in his hands, “What are you reading?”

 

“Ahh, I don’t know. Some random book I pulled off the shelf.”

 

Senku hums and looks around, “Any recommendations?”

“For books you mean?”

“Yeah, this is kind of your domain, right?” Senku gestures to the Social Science tag hanging at the end of the shelves.

 

“Well…yeah…sorta. Most of these books are observations with some research to back it up. Honestly, like, common sense type stuff,” Gen sighs,” I don’t know if you’ll necessarily be able to learn anything from them.”

 

“Why’d you say that weird.”

“Well I just mean because you’re you . Genius nerd guy.”

 

“I don’t know what misconception about nerds you have, but I promise you I know nothing about people.”

“Oh really, no way.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t worry about it. But eriously-say, most of the stuff here is pretty obvious. Unless it’s the feminism stuff, in which case that’s less obvious to us than like, an actual woman.”

 

“Define obvious.”

Gen sighs. “Murder is bad.”

 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

 

Gen plays with the white strand of his hair. “Sometimes being born at the beginning of the year makes you statistically more likely to succeed in life.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, wanna guess why?”

“I don’t know. Because they’re older than their peers who are born later?”

“Yeah, that means more experience and stuff. Bingo, you got it.”

“Wow.”

 

“I mean, to defend my people, social sciences are more complex than just fun facts,” Gen notes. “But if you want to market something to wider audiences it’s ay-way easier to just list facts than say anything of substance.”

“Damn, honestly similar to a lot of science communication nowadays,” Senku comments.

 

“Eally-ray? How so?”

“Just like…sensationalized content. Like Michio Kaku for example. He writes well and gets people excited, sure, but some of the stuff he writes is just conjecture or bogus. I think he got absolutely trashed on his book about quantum computing once for, like, getting it all wrong.”

 

“Ouch, Kaku? I think I’ve read some of his work.”

“Yeah same, I was super into it when I was younger.”

 

“What happened?”

“I refined my taste.”

Gen blinks, “Huh... Isn’t he like the co-founder of String Theory or something?”

 

“Well yeah, he’s not a total quack. It’s just that he likes to yap about science fiction like things a lot, and those things are sometimes inaccurate.”

 

“Ah, I see. Who do you recommend then?”

 

“Uh…Sagan maybe?”

 

“Oh, wasn’t he the one against religion or something?”

 

“Eh, more like heavy skepticism towards it, and more focused on the reliability of the scientific method.”

 

“What do you like about his work?” Gen asks in a lilting tone.

 

“Hmm, I like how he teaches how to think about a topic rather than what to think of it? Some of the stuff isn’t entirely accurate anymore though, just because of new discoveries and deeper understanding of the topics he writes about.”

 

“He must be a good writer if Senku-chan likes him so much,” Gen hums.

“He is,” Senku agrees. “Do you have any authors you recommend?”

“Em…not anything you’d be interested in,” Gen says awkwardly.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Mostly fiction authors if I’m going to be honest.” His gaze averts to the book in his hands instead of Senku.

 

“Like who?”

“Oh, you know, the classics. Oldies, but they’re still goodies!” Gen laughs nervously.

 

Senku stares at him blankly.

 

“Sorry,” Gen spits out.

“Huh?”

 

“Nevermind.”

 

“Wait, but like you still never answered my question.”

 

“Oh…I guess I like post-war stuff. I mean a lot of it feels the same after a while, but when you first get into the genre it’s fun.” Gen laughs, “Oh yeah, almost all the characters will have their mental state deteriorate, which is always fun to read and analyze.”

“Fun?” Senku echoes.

 

“Mhm…”

 

Senku’s eyes stay on Gen, silently urging the other to continue speaking. 

 

“Hm, what else…oh! I like a lot of foreign stuff too. I mean, staying on the topic of classical literature.” Gen intertwines his fingers, and rubs them back and forth.

 

He continues. “The Russians have some good stuff. It definitely wouldn’t have killed Dostoevsky to stop yapping so much, but it’s part of the charm.” 

 

Gen unlaces his fingers and glances at his nails. “Besides, the themes explored are done well enough for me to be able to look past the sheer density of it all.”

 

“Isn’t that like the guy who wrote a thousand page book?”

 

“No. If you mean Russian authors then Tolstoy’s the one you’re thinking about. Anna Karenina and War and Peace guy,” Gen smiles, eyes returning to meet Senku’s. “But another really long one I like is Gone with the Wind .”

 

“That one was made into a popular movie right?”

“Right!” Gen’s basically beaming now, and Senku is a little stunned by how much he likes that expression on the Mentalist’s face. “I mean, is it a little problematic? Yeah. Is it written out of bitter Confederate pride? Yeah. But is Scarlett O’Hara lowkey still my queen? Also yes!”

“My friends had a foreign movie marathon once and forced me to be a part of it.”

“Oh?” Gen blinks, but leans forward to hear the rest of the story.

 

“We watched Gone with the Wind for one of them. Isn't Scarlett that narcissist who was really obsessed with the blonde guy?”

 

“Good memory, and yes she is.”

“And she’s your ‘queen’?”

 

“She’s a girlboss!”

“She was certainly the boss of those convicts she employed, alright.”

 

“Oh my God, I forgot she did that.”

 

“Her family also owned slaves.”

“Okay, well I do remember that part.”

 

Senku looks at Gen expectantly.

 

“Okay, fine. She’s not particularly a likeable character, but she is a well written one, and inspiring in her own right. She was not a good person, but she’s also not real. That’s why I like her. ‘Tomorrow is another day’, isn’t that at least a little iconic?” Gen pouts, “Happy now?”

 

“I didn’t think you’d be so quick to abandon your post, Mentalist,” Senku teases.

 

Gen huffs, “I’m literally not, I’m just refining my argument.”

 

“Sure, sure,” Senku grins. 

 

“Stop! I’m not weird!” Gen defends himself, “It’s like when people call mass murdering villains in media ‘babygirl’– it’s just a thing!”

 

Senku looks stunned. “People do that?”

 

“Uh, yeah? Are you on the internet at all?”

“Yeah, I just don’t watch that much popular media I guess.”

“Oh, we need to change that for sure.”

Senku laughs disbelievingly, but Gen fakes a serious expression that makes both of them laugh. He checks his watch when the conversation lulls a little, but files away the image of Gen’s soft smile gracing his face he catches in the corners of his vision. 

 

“Oh, composition is soon, right?” Gen mutters.

 

“Yeah…how’d you know?”

 

Gen gives him a look.

 

“Eriously-say Senku-chan? I’m actually so hurt.”

 

“What, are we in the same class or something?”

“Yes, actually!” Gen frowns theatrically, “First you don’t realize I’m in your music theory class, and now you don’t realize I’m in composition? Do you pay attention to anyone but yourself?”

“Oh…highkey no actually.”

Gen gasps in disbelief. The ridiculous expression makes Senku laugh. 

 

“Unbelievable!” 

 

“Wait…no, I know Kohaku’s in my class. And in my defense, I’m literally just trying to get in and get out as quickly as possible while remaining conscious. Not much time to observe and notice classmates when I’m trying to keep my eyelids open.”

“That’s fair.”

“Seriously, you concede way too quickly, grow a pair.”

“Hello?! I’m trying to relate to you. It’s called empathy, Senku-chan, try it out sometime.”

 

“Hmm, maybe,” Senku puts his hand to his chin as if he’s considering which stocks to invest in. In doing so, he realizes something.

 

“Wait…since we’re in the same class…” Senku starts.

 

Gen facepalms with his right and holds out his left hand to stop Senku, “No…”

 

“May I get a ride, pretty please?”

 

Gen peeks through his fingers and finds Senku’s best impression of puppy eyes. Taiju and Yuzuriha once gave him ‘Charisma Lessons’ where they tried to teach him the art of charm, but he’s not sure if it’s working. Still, he’d rather not have to take a ten minute bus ride when he could just get to Ueno campus in two minutes via Gen’s car.

 

Gen sucks in a deep breath. “Fine.”

 

Senku can’t believe it worked. He’s pretty sure the puppy eyes did nothing , but he still can’t believe Gen’s this nice.

 

“Thank you Mentalist, I owe you one!”

Gen grimaces, “You owe me two now, actually. Aren’t STEM majors supposed to be good at math?”

“Technically I’m a STEM minor so…”

 

Gen facepalms again.

 

---

 

“I’m going to be introducing your final project today, okay? I’m doing this early just because I want to give you all ample time to work on it. It’s to compose an original piece. I know it sounds simple, but it’s harder than it seems.”

 

A student raises their hand. “Is there a rubric?”

“Yes, I’ll post it online after we wrap up,” Professor Kaseki replies. “But there aren’t any really strict requirements.”

 

Kohaku raises her hand next to Senku, “Is it going to be orchestral…or like a solo…?”

“It can be literally anything. Just check off whatever’s on the rubric, and you can add anything else as long as it sounds good. It should be a free and easy hundred.” 

 

The class seems excited about this, but Senku knows he’s screwed; he hasn’t ever created anything original in his entire life. It’s always been following some algorithm or steps to solve a problem, or playing someone else’s music.

 

After class, he grabs dinner with his usual group of friends in the cafeteria. While they eat, he opens the rubric, hoping to find some kind of guidance. However, there are only two unhelpful requirements. 

 

 

• Must be original work

• Must use standard notation

 

 

Senku supposes he can’t be too mad for Kaseki being lazy with grading– he’d do the same if he was forced to teach two college courses. Music theory and composition no less. He can’t even imagine the grading for music theory as is. 

 

Chrome loudly shouts about a cool new piece he found today. Ryuusui throws a piece of food across the table somewhere, and Tsukasa sighs heavily. Senku keeps his eyes on his laptop, his mind whirring, trying to find a solution to his current predicament.

 

It’s fine, he thinks. After all, he has two and a half months to complete the assignment.

 

“Oh my gosh, Gen! So glad you decided to join us!” Ukyo calls towards the direction behind Senku, causing him to turn around. He finds the Mentalist smiling and waving sheepishly. 

 

Yeah, he can worry about it later.

Notes:

hi thanks for reading. i don't really have an excuse for this chapter coming out so late, i'm just dying because school is way too soon

see you guys whenever, next update may be like two weeks into august because i have camp after camp until school starts, and my beta reader is busy with band camp 😔

notes for this chapter-
- the people born earlier have an advantage thing came from Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
- Gone with the Wind things are all accurate, and so is the Kaku stuff as far as i'm aware.
- I've never read sagan's stuff so i just relied on reddit for that one.
- tbh, the average japanese person probably doesn't know the historical background of like how gone with the wind was written and they probably don't know who kaku is,,, but it's my fic so!!

thanks for reading again!!

Chapter 6

Notes:

HEY! I'M EARLY! FIRST WEEK OF AUGUST!!!

came back from film camp, and i've watched whiplash!! i have thoughts!! they will be going into the fic!! stay tuned!

wanted to get this chapter out before i go to the nfa flute convention soon. if you see a kid taking pictures of anything and everything green and purple in atlanta, you'll know who :D

thanks to my beta readers for betaing even when being super busy/super sleepy!

Something to understand about Gen is that he’s not crazy or losing it. He’s just adapting to a society that is losing it. Losing what? Marbles, maybe. Oh — sanity? Can’t be, that answer is too normal. Marbles isn’t that creative either, but there’s nothing else to be losing. So, Gen concludes that society is losing its marbles, even if it doesn’t feel right. 

 

“God… Gen — what on Earth happened here?” Xeno sounds like a posh noble who holds handkerchiefs to their faces when talking about lowly nobles, even more so when he uses English to talk to his son.

 

Gen groans and his arm flies over his head, the bend in his elbow meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?” he replies in the same language.

 

“It looks like an absolute dogshed in here. Seriously inelegant.” Xeno steps carefully, avoiding the random piles of what anyone can only describe as stuff . Slowly but surely, he makes his way to the bed where his son is lying.

 

“It is not that bad. You’re definitely giving dogsheds way too much credit.”

“Excuse me? I did not raise you to be bilingual so you can talk back to me.” 

 

Gen peeks at Xeno. “I’m an adult, you can’t play the ‘don’t talk back to me’ card anymore, Dad.”

 

“You— Stanley, look what your son is pulling!” 

 

Stanley, who has been standing by the doorway smoking the entire time, walks in. “Definitely your son, alright,” he mutters after seeing Gen.

 

“That’s not— oh whatever.”

 

Gen sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the blurry figures of his parents. “What the heck, Dad. You can’t smoke in here.”

 

Stanley shrugs and looks at Xeno before leisurely walking towards the door again.

 

“No. Stanley, put out that cigarette then come back .”

Stanley nods in amusement before disappearing outside.

 

“Did you guys commute here together?” Gen asks dryly. 

 

“Yeah,” his dad responds and Gen swears he sees that fatherfucker’s eyes soften.

 

“ Ugh , you guys make me…” Gen trails off when he forgets the word sick . “気持ち悪い、” he substitutes.

 

Xeno squints, “Is your English getting worse? Do I need to give you remedial classes?”

“No! No, my English is perfectly fine!” Gen assures. “I can speak like a true native!”

 

“Really now?”

“Yeah! Fuck, bitch, shit. Goddammit, I fucking hate this heat.”

 

Xeno’s face sours. Stanley walks back into the room.

 

“What the fuck is a kilometer? How the fuck do I use celsius? Holy shit! Uh, what else let’s see…” Gen starts counting his fingers. “So I’ve said fuck, shit, bitch…oh, ‘Fuck you, bitch!’”

 

“How inelegant,” Xeno finally manages to muster.

 

“Kill yourself!” Gen smiles, remembering the common English insult.

 

Silence fills the room. 

 

Gen covers his mouth, “Wait, sorry Dad. I was just making a point. Don’t kill yourself.”

 

Xeno rests his fingers against his temple, “I know that…where did you even learn all that? I certainly never taught you such vulgar language.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t said those words before.”

“I’m not, but I definitely haven’t said them in front of you.”

Gen’s eyes drift over to Stanley who’s standing against the wall smiling.

Xeno follows his gaze, “Oh for fuck’s sake, you did this?”

“ほら(Look)! You contradicted your own point too! You get ten billion points deducted for that.” Gen internally frowns. Ten billion? That’s a comically large number to come out of his mouth.

 

Stanley hides his smile. “I didn’t do anything,” he replies to Xeno’s accusation innocently.

 

“What are you guys even doing here? It’s Saturday.” Gen hugs his blanket in front of him, hiding the shirt he wore yesterday.

 

“Obviously to see how you’re doing, faring on your own that is,” Xeno supplies.

 

Stanley nods. 

 

“Okay, well, hi. I’m doing great.”

His parents exchange a look.

“You call this great?” Xeno kicks the empty wrapper of an instant noodle packet.

 

“じゃないの?” Is it not?

Stanley grimaces, Gen assumes it’s because he’s antsy without a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

 

Xeno sighs, “Your father and I agreed to let you live alone because we thought you could handle it.”

“I am handling it.”

 

“You were the one saying you’d absolutely be able to handle the freedom. You said you’d be able to cook and clean for yourself, but clearly…” Xeno eyes at the takeout boxes filling the trash can. “...you’ve failed.”

 

“What do you mean?” Gen slides his legs over the edge of the bed and stands, wincing softly when his bare feet touch the cool wooden floor. “I’m still alive, that’s gotta count for something.”

“Where are the slippers I got you?” Stanley asks.

 

“Somewhere,” Gen replies, yawning and giving his arms a good stretch.

 

Stanley frowns.

“If you seriously cannot live on your own like a proper human being , you can’t live on your own anymore.” Xeno scolds.

“What?” Gen blinks. “You’re going to make me move back in with you guys?”

 

Stanley steps in, “At the very least, you need to get a roommate instead.”

“Oh, yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Have someone else deal with my ‘misery of a living condition’, which isn’t even that bad.” Gen says in air quotes.

 

Dr. Xeno looks at his son with a blank expression. “I’m a very well respected faculty member on campus.”

“You’re threatening to forcibly kick me out of my dorm to live with you?” Gen gasps incredulously. “How much do you miss your dear son?”

“Like your father mentioned earlier, you can always get a roommate if you would prefer that arrangement,” Xeno explains. “The point is that you shouldn’t be allowed to live alone any longer.”

Gen stares.

 

“No way. First, you practically force me to major in music, and now you want to force me to share my living space?”

 

“Technically we’re asking you to share someone else’s living space,” Stanley corrects. “And we never forced you into being a music major.”

 

“Someone else’s?!” Gen cries. “I have to move out ? Can’t they move in?”

“Naturally. This is a one bedroom apartment after all. Don’t worry, many people are looking for roommates to share the expenses.”

“Why bother talking about expenses when I’m living here because the school gave your family benefits?”

 

“Half the pay is still half the pay,” Stanley cuts in. “But regardless, I’m sure you’ll find that you might actually enjoy living with another person.”

 

Gen, who has been facing Xeno the entire time, shoots his other father a side eye. Enjoy living with another person? The thought echoes in his mind. Preposterous! He enjoys being alone and unbothered. He’d never willingly give up space to coexist with another person if there wasn’t something substantial to gain from it. He’s sure of it, even if green hair keeps flashing in his brain unwarranted. 

 

“Precisely,” Xeno agrees with his husband. “You know Senku? The one in your orchestra? Very nice kid, maybe you should try rooming with him.”

 

Gen mentally puts up barriers in his mind to prevent his father from reading any more than he already has— just in case.

 

Seeing his parents’ stern faces, he can already guess that he didn’t have much of a say in the matter to begin with.

Gen sighs in defeat. “When’s my deadline?”

 

---

 

A month.

 

Gen procrastinates on moving out for a month, which is also coincidentally exactly how long his parents gave him to find a roommate.

 

In all this time, he keeps hanging out with Senku’s friends. It starts with just dinner, then lunch, then most meals. He sits with Senku’s friends in the dining hall consistently enough that nobody gives a courteous “Hey, thanks for joining us!” anymore. Soon, it bleeds into lectures and study sessions. He’s never driven so many people around before, but he justifies it with the fact that everyone in the group is pretty smart, so group study sessions always make up for it. Even if they end up goofing off every single time, they always cover more in twenty locked-in minutes together than Gen ever could alone. 

 

By now, the group have in total played over fifty games of poker, forty of presidents and carrots, as well as a healthy amount of BS and blackjack. Once, Ryuusui forgot to bring his chips, and no one thought that they would play that night. But then Gen came up with the brilliant idea of using some kind of utensil instead. The curved part of a snapped spoon is worth one unit, the snapped handle worth two units, and a whole unbroken spoon being worth five. (They use ‘units’ because no one can actually afford to lose any money.) In the end, they all kind of enjoyed playing with spoons more than chips anyway. Tsukasa said it felt more “home made”.

 

Having unlocked this level of familiarity, the group also unknowingly unlocked the privilege of getting to listen to Gen complain.

 

Naturally, he unloads his whole living debacle with his friends. He’s sure he’s earned the right to complain whole heartedly about his struggles after sweet talking the cafeteria lady into being okay with the cafeteria’s constant low supply of spoons so that the friend group would never actually face any consequences of their actions.

 

“So, like, can any of you guys help me out?” Gen groans theatrically.

 

“I live in a single bedroom dorm, sorry.” Tsukasa is the first to answer.

“Ah, that’s fine. Thank you,” Gen responds good naturedly. 

 

“I live in a two bedroom and have been looking for a roommate actually,” Ukyo mentions. “Most everyone has their roommates by now, so it might be hard to try and look for one. The only other one I know who has two rooms in their dorm without a roommate is Hyoga.”

Gen shakes his head, “The violin? No thanks.”

“What do you have against violins?” Chrome asks.

 

“Othing-nay!” Gen says sweetly. “They just don’t like me!”

“What do you even mean by that?” Senku asks, not looking up whatever book he’s reading currently.

 

Would it kill him to engage with the conversation a little? Gen thinks grimly, even though he knows full well that Senku is engaging in conversation.

“What about you, Senku-chan?”

“What about me?”

“Do you perhaps have a spare bedroom I could crash in?”

Gen hides the way his lips naturally curl up seeing those red eyes trained on him.

 

“No. You’ve been to my dorm actually, do you not remember?” 

 

Ouch. Okay, well he probably should’ve seen that one coming.

 

Gen laughs. “Just teasing, Senku-chan!”

“...like I said,” Ukyo cuts back awkwardly. “I haven’t been able to find a roommate yet either, so you can stay with me!”

“Oh yeah, why haven’t you been able to?”

“Procrastinating,” Ukyo responds sheepishly.

“Ah, real. Hang on, doesn’t Ryuusui also live in a two bedroom dorm?” Gen asks.

“Yea, Francois is my roommate. If it hadn’t been decided already then I would’ve been with Ukyo for sure,” Ryuusui answers.

 

Gen cocks his head, his strand of white hair falling over his left shoulder. “Who’s Francois?”

“His butler,” the table replies in unison with the practice of having explained this dozens of times over.

Gen’s eyes widen. “Eh?! Butler? You’re not broke then, so why eat cafeteria slop all day?”

“It’s a long story, and they’re actually not my butler currently.”

“Are they even allowed on campus?”

 

“Yeah, they’re enrolled. Piano and hospitality double major.”

 

Gen blinks thrice to comprehend all that information. “Wow” is the only thing he can muster in response.

 

It seems that Ryuusui doesn’t really want to talk about it. His posture is still very open and confident, but he’s quieter and the pace in which he eats his food slows ever so slightly. He stares at the wall past Gen that’s at least a good five meters behind him. 

 

“Um,” Ukyo interrupts lightly. “So, like I said, Gen…”

“Yeah!” Gen finishes for Ukyo. “I’d love to room with you if you’ll let me.”

 

Ukyo’s face gets painted with a relieved expression. “Thanks! The bills have been lowkey awful, and I don’t think I’ll mind living with you at all!”

 

“Oh yeah, I definitely feel you with those prices.” Gen makes an exasperated expression. “I agree we’ll get along fine though, talking with you is always a delight!”

 

Something possesses Gen’s eyes to shift over to Senku slyly. He eyes the man reading…

 

The Catcher in the Rye?

 

Gen has so many thoughts he wants to spit out, but he refrains from doing so because that would expose the fact that he was looking Senku’s way long enough to have read the title of what he was reading. Something he definitely wasn’t doing.

 

He listens to Kohaku at the other end of the table next to Senku go off about a professor refusing to change her grade because he thought she completed an assignment with AI. Stubborn old people can be tricky , Gen thinks, sympathizing with her deeply. 

 

While continuing to listen, he moves a sausage on his plate around like a hokey puck before throwing it into his mouth. He tries to remove the word nasty from his vocabulary and instead chooses to think about affordability and convenience . 

 

But nasty returns.

 

Gen quickly goes to douse his mouth with a coke he got from a vending machine (that’s a 200 yen he’s never getting back), but accidentally knocks it over before he can open it. When he finally gets it in his hands to open, it fizzes like a volcanic eruption and Gen is forced to hold the bottle to his lips until the carbonation calms down. That’s a good 250 milliliters of his favorite drink he’s never getting back.

 

Everyone’s listening to Kohaku, so no one noticed Gen’s little slip-up. Thank God.

 

Gen looks back at Kohaku and notices a certain scientist covering his mouth with his fingers. His chin is rested in his palm, and his eyes full of mirth. Senku doesn’t look at anything but his book, but suspiciously enough his pages haven’t moved for the past fifteen minutes. Gen also knows that Catcher in the Rye isn’t that funny. Maybe he shouldn’t have thanked God.

 

Is choking on cola really that funny? Gen frowns dramatically. Senku hides another laugh.

 

Gen looks at Senku. Did he just read his mind? No way, right? He narrows his eyes at the other, trying not to feel silly for trying to telepathically tell him to put his book down. To Gen’s utter surprise, Senku flips the book upside down and rests it next to his plate, saving his page.

 

And Senku looks up.

 

Red, ruby, crimson.

 

“Seriously. What the fuck , right? That ‘AI detection software’ is absolute bullshit!” Kohaku yells, slamming her fist into the table.

 

Everyone else jumps, and immediately starts trying to console her and bashing the professor. Senku and Gen stay where they are.

 

Senku’s mouth pulls into a toothless grin.

 

Vermillion, scarlet, cherry.

 

It’s surprising how much sharing glances can feel like a secret in broad daylight. Their surroundings are the harmony of the loud chatter of their friends and the soft buzzing of the yellow tinted lights. But why focus on the background when the subject is right in your line of sight? That’s how Gen notices the way Senku’s top and bottom lashes delicately kiss with every blink.

 

“Kohaku, try showing him your Google Doc history or something. If he sees that you wrote it line by line it might be more believable.” Senku breaks eye contact first.

 

He returns to his book after Kohaku hums thoughtfully at his suggestion. His expression is almost neutral, save for his corners being slightly pulled back.

 

“I can also talk to him, if you’d like,” Gen supplies.

 

That earns a disbelieving look from Kohaku. “Really? How so?”

“I have connections. Professor Suzuki, was it?”

Seeing Kohaku’s suspicious gaze, Senku laughs, returning to the conversation. “I’d trust the Mentalist on this one.”

 

Their gazes meet again.

 

Cerise, rose, carmine.

 

---

 

“Waah, thanks so much again!” Gen collapses onto the floor after he brings the last box in.

 

Ukyo smiles, dropping the box he’s carrying next to Gen. “No worries, I’m glad we’re roommates. Seriously.”

 

Gen beams. “Right? Infinite gossip sessions, how awesome is that?”

 

The two have developed a nice symbiotic relationship of mutualism. Gen greatly benefits from all the gossip Ukyo and his brilliant ears pick up on, and Ukyo gets both cheaper rent and a friend to live with.

 

“Speaking of which…” 

 

Gen’s eyes light up immediately at the aspect of possible gossip.

 

“What is it?”

“You know the orchestra below us?”

“Yeah?”

“I heard their concert master and pianist ‘practiced’ together.”

Gen gives an Oscar-winning gasp. “In the practice rooms?”

Ukyo nods.

“But they weren’t practicing.”

 

Ukyo shakes his head.

 

“Do the directors know?”

 

“No, but see the thing is the pianist has a little situationship that isn’t with the concert master. And this person knows.”

“Oh my God, do you think they’re gonna snitch?”

“Who knows?” Ukyo smiles.

 

Gen taps his chin, acting as if in deep thought. “Hang on, but how’d anyone find out they did the hanky-panky?”

 

Ukyo grimaces. “They weren’t being very quiet.”

“Holy…were you there?”

When he doesn’t get a response, he laughs.

“Haha! Oh my gosh, poor you, Ukyo! Diabolical behavior on their part.” Gen shakes his head.

 

Ukyo starts fake-weeping. “No amount of loudly playing Chant de Linos was getting them to stop. Those people really can’t take a hint. I started to play Flight of the Bumblebee to try and scare them away.”

“Well…did it work?”

“No,” Ukyo laments calmly. How he can tell a crash-out story without actually ever crashing out is beyond Gen. “I just got up and left. There are some freaky, freaky kids here.”

 

“I’ll say,” Gen sighs. “I hope they get reprimanded. They shouldn’t be doing that in a practice room of all places.”

“Yeah! Like, imagine there were children! You know middle and high schoolers always have their lessons here and stuff.” Ukyo frowns.

 

“Right!” Gen agrees. 

 

He’s about to say something else when he’s interrupted by a text from his family groupchat, asking if he’s found a roommate yet. He quickly snaps a selfie of him and Ukyo and sends it back with the caption “aren’t I just the most responsible son ever?”. Both of his parents react to the image with a thumbs up emoji.

 

Ukyo offers Gen the shower first, as he’s had a long day of moving in. Gen graciously accepts this offer. Thirty minutes later, he’s wrapped tightly in a fluffy purple bathroom robe.

 

He pulls a pillow and comforter out of one of the many boxes he brought with him, and lays on the bare mattress. Just for today, he thinks.

 

Gen gets comfortable in bed, laying on his back. He closes his eyes and enjoys being snug like a bug. He then flips over to his side to do the activity that steals most of his practice away.

 

Scrolling Instagram reels.

 

It’s barely amusing, but just the right amount of stimulation to have Gen react to a video before moving to the next one, immediately forgetting what he just watched. It’s rebirth in a way, becoming a different person because of consuming each new piece of content, yet never remembering what made you different or how it affected you. Gen’s never done drugs, but he wonders if this nulling sensation of just okay enough is similar to one of the less intense ones.

 

Oh…that was a horrible one , Gen thinks, scowling at the unsatisfying hydraulic press video he just had the misfortune of witnessing. 

 

He scrolls to the next reel where a kid is jumping on a trampoline. It looks normal enough, but with the “Nothing beats a Jet 2 Holiday!” sound in the background, Gen can only assume that the kid will snap their neck or something.

 

Just as Gen’s ready to open the comments, a notification stops him.

 

@ishigami.senku sent you a reel by @onlyjayus

 

Senku sent Gen an Instagram Reel. 

 

Senku, a chronically offline individual, sent Gen, a chronically online individual, an Instagram Reel. Gen doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His mind immediately jumps to whether he’s been a poor influence on the other, perhaps unknowingly instigating this behavior by scrolling around him. 

 

Gen’s mind starts to run. Had they unlocked the sending reel level of friendship? Having hung around each other in the same social groups for over a month now, he’d say they could be considered friends at this point. If not, then maybe really well acquainted acquaintances. But he didn’t expect to reach the reel-sending stage yet. He’s not even sure if he and Ukyo are that close yet. 

 

Gen tentatively taps open the notification.

 

Senku

psychology of music 🧠

I think I see what u mean by ‘obvious’ now

 

It’s a normal enough reel, fun facts about music and the mind. What catches Gen’s eye is Senku’s mention of the ‘obvious’. They had that conversation a while ago, and he still remembers?

Gen

yeah…i think i’d enjoy it more if i was given sources lol

 

Senku’s little icon pops up immediately in the corner of Gen’s screen, and bouncing dots follow. 

 

Senku

Fr, but I think this is meant for like children. I mean look at the comments

 

Gen

ur right lol

 

Senku hearts Gen’s message and the conversation ends.

 

A conversation about a video can only last so long, especially with short form content. In fact, getting a reply at all was pretty impressive considering their level of familiarity. Gen clicks the reel icon at the bottom of his screen again, but can’t seem to find it as enjoyable as before.

 

He tosses his phone next to him on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. It’s been two hours since he showered. He didn’t even realize it, but it’s 11 pm. Something sickening washes over him, and he closes his eyes again to try and ignore it. He almost wishes he didn’t when he’s met with the image of red eyes seeing a video about psychology, clicking the share button, probably typing in his name because there’s no way Gen’s one of his top DMs, and sending it to him. 

 

Senku sent a DM to him. Senku and him held eye contact despite their table of rambunctious young adults being crazy. Gen can feel himself feeling hotter and getting more nauseous by the second.

 

Gen might be a lot of things, but an emotionally stunted dumbass who doesn’t know what his current feelings are is not one of them. 

 

So he has a crush on Senku. Even that word feels to be a bit far. They’re barely friends. Attraction is probably a better word.

 

Sure, okay, he’s attracted to Senku. There’s nothing wrong with that. People have fleeting attractions and crushes all the time. He’s not special for that, and it’s nothing he should worry about at all. 

 

But what if he just admires Senku for being so smart, or so good at everything he does? Especially when his father always mentions his favorite student while also trying to hide the fact that he’s playing favorites. His dad likes him, so why can’t he? It’s not really a problem either, he doesn’t get excessively excited or nervous when he’s around the other, and his heart doesn’t really flutter, nor does his stomach drop. What if it’s not attraction at all? What if it’s all platonic?

 

That’s probably the better conclusion to receive. It’s immunity from being embarrassed if anyone ever accuses him of having a crush and gets publicly humiliated for it because god forbid someone like someone else in secret, but Gen’s just a tad disappointed. Because is it really fair if everyone else can experience love to the fullest if he’s stuck at just platonic?

 

Is he overthinking all of this because Senku is a guy?

 

Gen’s mind floats back to Senku’s comment about being not straight. Straight is implying that Senku is attracted to women and only women. If Senku is not that, then at the simplest and most basic level it easily implies one of two things. One, that he’s also attracted to men, or two, that he’s on the aromantic or asexual spectrum and doesn’t feel that way about anyone. 

 

Gen groans into his pillow and checks his phone again. No new notifications. Maybe his phone addiction really is like a drug– he’s miserable with or without it.

 

“How about if I sleep a little bit longer and forget all this nonsense,” Gen recites out loud. Metamorphosis, Kafka, one of the first classics he picked up as a kid. His favorite comfort read because he’d like to think that his parents wouldn’t throw apples at him if he were to ever turn into a giant cockroach one day.

 

But Xeno hates cockroaches.

 

Gen grabs his blanket and shoves his face into it. The warmth from his exhales spread through the fabric and bleed onto his face again. When he lets go of the blanket to breathe in the normal air it has the illusion of being colder, more grounding.

 

Gen is not entirely certain how he got from point a to point b, but suddenly he’s sitting on his bed criss-cross applesauce with a deck of cards in his hands. He shuffles them in every way he knows how to, and performs little tricks he learned online to the AC’s applause. The abrasive friction against his skin tickles his palms and burns his fingers, but it’s good. He springs the entire deck from one hand to the other. It’s fun.

 

He isn’t the most interested in math, but he knows that the chances of getting every combination of shuffled cards is virtually zero. A common way of describing the likelihoods is a shuffle for every observable atom in the universe. 

 

Every trick is different, every piece of dialogue is different, every clap of the audience is different— he wants to understand the differences as clearly as pieces of sand in his hands. Between his index finger and thumb, rubbing and noticing as each grain falls and washes away back into the world of probability. But when he rubs his fingers together all he feels are callouses.

 

He shoots a glance at the viola case sitting in the corner of his room. He hasn’t practiced today yet; he was too busy with all the moving.

 

“Hey, Ukyo?”

 

“Yeah?” His roommate's voice comes through the wooden walls.

 

“Do you mind if I practice right now?”

Ukyo lets out a confused sound. “It’s only like eleven thirty, as long as you stay relatively quiet it’s not really a problem. Most people are either out or won’t sleep until three.”

“You’re right.” 

 

Now Gen should move, but the rough cards feel so nice in his hands. If he was utterly insane he’d say no to practice and play with the judo flip a little more. Unfortunately for him, Gen is not losing his marbles, and he’s very adaptive to society.

 

He opens the smooth viola case and picks up his instrument with great caution. Standing and playing is too much to ask of someone who already doesn’t want to practice; So, Gen sits next to his viola case, his instrument in his arms like a guitar, plucking at the strings, “practicing” his pizzicato. 

 

The lights are off, the sky is dark, and Gen is bored.

Notes:

THERE'S A PLOT! I PROMISE! AAAAAAA
it will start! like! next chapter!! i promise!!

holy ooc, sorry

look at me trying to build character depth that's not even in character, haha, who do i think i am

about the english bit, i'm just poking fun of us americans because they're americans! i'm aware that not all english speaking people don't know how to use the metric system and whatnot :)

bet yall thought sengen were gonna be roommates huh, heheh…🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ (probably didn’t lmao idk where this accusation is coming from) but this is better actually trust

you may or may not have noticed, but i HAVE outlined the fic! i thought it was gonna be really accurate...but then i finished this chapter and like...bro i didn't even get to half my points, so expect that chapter count to change in the future LOL

thanks for reading!!!!!!!!!! see you guys when school starts!

also I have a twitter!! Just realized I can plug that stuff here LOL, I basically only repost dcst stuff, but follow me @pretencious_kid if you want 😛

Chapter 7

Notes:

welcome back to 7amflutesectional hates their writing, featuring all tell and no show

sorry for late chapter, sorry it's short too

Half notes and whole notes, his favorite. Slow, sustained long notes for the intense and dramatic parts of the show, but he still needs to support and “tighten his abdomen” because they’re professionals , and they need to have good tone . 

 

Senku shifts around uncomfortably in his seat, trying to throw out his legs to get more comfortable while also not elbowing any of the people next to him. Even though winter is rapidly approaching, everyone is so squashed in the small pit in front of the stage that he cannot physically take another second with his coat on, opting to tie it around his waist instead. And this is just a dress rehearsal, he’s not quite sure how he’s going to survive the actual performance with a whole suit on and everything.

 

It’s early November and the dance department decided to put on an autumn ballet performance. The music isn’t too challenging, maybe a Grade 4 at best. But the Nutcracker music the orchestra has to prepare in about a month from now? Senku shudders at the thought.

 

In front of him, Gen places an all clear block. 

 

Nice , Senku thinks. He’s unintentionally made a habit of watching Gen be a rebel in rehearsal. It’s usually Block Blast, but sometimes he’ll switch it up. He’s tried Subway Surfers and Tetris a couple of times, but he mostly sticks with Block Blast, it seems to be the most playable while also playing an instrument.

It almost makes Senku want to try it if he wasn’t afraid of the possibility of getting caught. Something to get his mind off of playing sustained notes, or his unfinished assignments, or God forbid— life; it’d be nice to have a distraction. 

 

Maybe discovering short form content was a net negative, Senku reflects. His brain has become addicted to the short bursts of dopamine even a ten minute scrolling session gave him. He really needs to counteract that soon, maybe his undone worksets will stimulate some more growth. 

 

Even thinking about Instagram sours his mood a little. There’s no reason to be so salty, and it’s absolutely not that deep…but Senku can’t help but notice that Gen never followed him back.

 

Having this thought cross his mind again , Senku wants to throw his head into the music stand. 

Senku’s never been the most socially adept, so he can’t be certain, but he thinks that usually people follow back those that follow them on social media, especially if they know each other in real life and especially if they’re friends. Surely, surely he isn’t the one wrong here. Gen follows pretty much the entire friend group, heck even people they’re only slightly acquainted with like Kinro and Ginro, so why is Senku the only one Gen isn’t following?

 

Maybe he forgot, Senku reasons. Besides, it does not matter at all to him whether or not his friend follows him back or not. Gen’s account is public and he can message him as he pleases. But logically, this means that Gen is overall uninterested in Senku’s profile which makes him feel some type of way that he’d rather not worry about right now.

 

Half notes and whole notes. He’ll focus on half notes and whole notes right now. That’s the problem at hand. 

 

---

 

Because the orchestra’s only purpose there was to help the dancers rehearse, Dr. Xeno misses out on the chance to yell at them during rehearsal. But that doesn’t stop him from absolutely laying it on them as soon as it ends.

 

“Strings, way too loud there at one hundred forty-nine. Trombones, count your long notes. Flutes, more. Oboe, more at your solo. Where was the energy at the piu mosso? That crescendo was pathetic, mark it in your parts.” Xeno quickly rambles through his observations at the top of his head, flipping through the score violently. “Tubas, don’t drag, watch me at sixty eight in the last movement. Horns, listen and blend your sound. Same goes with trumpets. Don’t be so loud like BAH, BAH— no, dah, dah.” 

 

Senku writes “listen” in his part, though he’s never quite sure what it means when directors tell him that. He listens when he plays, he has ears. 

 

“Overall.” Dr. Xeno takes a big breath after rapping all his feedback. “Not bad for the first rehearsal,” he concludes after exhaling. “But that is a given because this piece could be performed by middle schoolers.” He adds a jab in there, because of course he does. He’s a music teacher.

 

Sensing that Dr. Xeno’s almost done with the spiel, and that rehearsal was supposed to be over ten minutes ago, people start slowly packing up. Just small things like oboe players taking their reeds off or closing a binder. 

 

“Stop packing up, I’m not done.”

 

---

 

So Dr. Xeno yaps for another twenty minutes. There’s zero chance he was actually going to before, but he does so anyway because he’s petty .

 

Senku doesn’t like petty people, and Dr. Xeno apparently knows it too because he asked to see him after rehearsal. His heart beat is steady when he approaches his conductor’s office, but he still swallows a couple times and sweats just a little more than usual. 

 

He hasn’t done anything wrong, so there’s no reason to be nervous. Yet he subconsciously starts counting the seconds that pass in his head as he knocks and opens the door at a “come in”. 

 

“Hi Dr. Xeno, you wanted to see me?” Senku speaks first. It’s the polite thing to do.

 

“Hello Senku,” Dr. Xeno replies, spinning around in his chair. It’s a little dramatic, but Senku lets it slide on the account of the fact that the man in front of him has the power to literally ruin his life.

 

“I understand that you’re a brilliant student,” Dr. Xeno starts. Senku has no clue where this is going, but it doesn’t seem like a scolding. He keeps counting.

 

“I’ve seen your schedule. Quite packed with music and science. Really ambitious, I was a lot like you when I was younger.”

 

Senku raises a brow but remains silent. Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one.

 

“I’m going to get straight to the point, I’m in a little bit of a bind. Really inelegant to say the least. I’ve agreed to be a clinician for my good friend for a middle school band, but I have other commitments I must attend that take a higher priority.” Dr. Xeno speaks in a very even tone. 

 

“You’ve accidentally double booked yourself?”

 

Dr. Xeno nods. “Precisely. You catch on quick.”

 

Senku doesn’t respond to the compliment. “Do you, like, want me to go for you or something?”

 

Dr. Xeno smiles demurely. “If you would like to, of course. You can pass it off as interning. I saw in your files as well that your major is Music Performance, but this might be a good experience, as well.”

Senku genuinely considers it for a second. “You’re really selling this well.” He comments absent mindedly. “But I might be too busy. You know my schedule, I barely have time to sleep, let alone be a clinician.”

 

Xeno nods understandingly. It’s the tamest expression Senku’s ever seen on his face. “I understand your concerns. To be honest, teaching middle schoolers isn’t quite my tempo either, if you know what I mean.” He says the tempo part in English.

 

Senku stares blankly.

 

If his director felt embarrassed at all he certainly didn’t show it. “But seriously. You’re young, explore. This isn’t an easy opportunity to come by, and I’m only giving it to you because I believe in you.” Xeno pauses. “Just…think about it, okay?”

“You’re not even going to tell me the specifics of this job before I make a decision?” Senku wonders out loud.

 

Dr. Xeno hums. “I’ll let you know after you’ve decided whether or not you want to.”

 

“Is it binding?”

“No, of course not. You are welcome to back out at any time. Again, I understand your situation.”

Senku remains quiet.

 

“You’ll receive half of my compensation.” Xeno adds.

Senku scowls. “For doing all your work?”

“Seventy percent.”

“Eighty.”

“Seventy-five.”

“Okay.” Senku nods. “I’ll think about it.”

 

“You’re dismissed.”

 

The interaction lasted exactly one hundred eighty-seven seconds. At the one hundredth ninety third second, Dr. Xeno calls out.

 

“I’m not sure if this will help or not, but I think they wouldn’t mind if you brought a friend as well.”

 

---

 

“Do it.”

 

Both of Senku’s brows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yeah. You asked for my advice, didn’t you? My advice is for you to do it.” Kohaku takes a large bite off of the meat skewer she’s holding.

 

Senku stares at the skewer in his own hand and sighs. “But I’m busy. ”

 

His friend rolls her eyes. “Sure, but how many college students can say they’ve had this chance? Sure you might find TAs here and there, but being a clinician? That’s basically an internship, and you know how cutthroat everyone is for those.”

 

She has a point. This is an opportunity that most don’t get. But Senku knows his limits, he has enough on his plate already, it’s not like turning down this offer will deny him all jobs in the future. 

 

“Besides,” Kohaku pipes up again, filling the silence. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a sudden passion for Music Education.”

Senku wrinkles his nose. “Teaching children ? No thanks. I do not want to relive those days of abhorred noise.”

 

Kohaku laughs, bright with an edge. “I don’t disagree, but there’s a lot of joy to be found in helping someone else with music.”

Senku chews quietly, unsure if he can laugh. It’s not something Kohaku talks about often, and Senku doesn’t know the details, but there was a time in high school when Kohaku wasn’t at school often, causing her grades to slip. Senku only really knows of it because he was asked to help tutor her. While he’s never been explicitly told that it was because of her sister, Senku put two and two together when he noticed Ruri not showing up for many days in a row. It was only when he went with Tsukasa to visit his sister in the hospital and heard a sweet trumpet melody echo through the hospital walls that he finally understood where Kohaku’s days had been spent.

 

“Sure, maybe.” Senku lands on a safe agreement.

 

“Yeah, and even if you don’t find joy in that, their cute little faces might make up for it!” Kohaku downs the rest of her drink.

 

Senku makes an utterly horrified and disgusted expression. “Ew, no ?”

 

---

 

“I’m so happy for you!” Taiju screams. Why that is his go-to way of delivering information will always be a mystery to Senku. He doesn’t mind it as much as he acts like he does though.

 

“That really is great!” Yuzuriha comments.

 

“Yeah, yeah. I know that. But where in the world will I find the time?” Senku exasperates. 

 

Yuzuriha looks at him a little weird. “I mean, you kind of play cards with us almost every night.”

“That’s because I want to.”

 

“So you don’t want to clinic?” Taiju asks.

 

“That’s not—” Why was Senku so hesitant?

 

Yuzuriha smiles, it’s pure and kind. It’s the same smile she’s shared since they first met in elementary school, and the same smile she gave after every concert, good or bad. “Don’t be so afraid of breaking routine, Senku. We don’t mind if you don’t hang out with us from time to time, we’re still friends.”

Taiju agrees loudly.

 

---

 

“Son, you’re actually asking me for advice?” Byakuya’s voice comes in choppy through the phone, but it’s still his.

 

“Yeah.” Senku sits on his bed, his back against the headboard. His feet are flat on the mattress and his knees are supporting his chin.

 

“I can’t believe this day finally arrived.” He fake sniffles. “I think you should do it though.”

“Really?” Senku says for the umpteenth time this week.

 

“Yeah! I don’t see why not, really. Unless you’re really just not interested, but if you care enough to call your old man about it, I assume you are.”

 

“Ew, don’t go talking like you know me,” Senku jokes.

 

Byakuya makes crying sounds on the other end of the line. “How could you be so horrible to your old pa?”

 

There’s some noise in the background. 

 

“Is that Suika?”

Byakuya sighs. “Yeah, she’s supposed to be sleeping.” His dad’s voice goes softer for a second, but Senku can still hear him telling Suika to go to bed for school tomorrow.

 

“How’s she doing?”

“Well enough, about to go to middle school. Isn’t that exciting?”

 

“And Lilian?”

“Fine as ever.”

 

Senku unconsciously smiles.

 

“How are you, Senku?” Byakuya’s voice comes back clearer.

 

“Good.”

 

“That’s it?”

“Well I’m still thinking about that opportunity, aren’t I?”

 

Byakuya makes a “mm” sound and the line stays quiet for a little while.

 

“Are you compensated at all?”

 

“Seventy-five percent.”

“ Seventy-five ? Xeno’s really lenient these days, huh.” Byakuya exclaims.

 

“I bargained for it.”

 

His dad stifles a laugh, trying to sound serious but Senku still hears the soft mutter of “that’s my son”.

 

They drop the topic but not the conversation. They chit-chat about Lilian’s work, how she has a new album coming out. Even at her age, she’s still advancing her career in novel ways. Senku expresses admiration and encouragement, and Byakuya promises to pass the message along. Soon Senku is saying good night and promising to call again soon. Then there’s an overwhelming silence dampening the room along with the out of tune humming of the AC. 

 

Senku grabs his airpods and puts on whatever is the first thing to come up in his shuffled playlist.

 

The Moldau, about a river in Smetana’s hometown. Senku doesn’t believe in fate or cosmic beings messing with the lives of lowly humans, but this is certainly a nice coincidence. Maybe he’ll visit his family over winter break, he thinks before drifting into a river of sleep.

 

---

 

“Hey…what does your dad mean by ‘not my tempo’? But specifically when he says it in English?”

 

Gen looks at Senku across the cafeteria table in surprise and then bursts out laughing.

 

“Oh my gosh, haha! He means that it’s not his thing. It’s a reference to an American movie.”

 

Senku takes a bite of nato. “Oh…what movie?”

 

“Whiplash. Have you never seen it?”

“No.” Senku shakes his head.

 

“We need to change that then.” Gen smiles. Senku doesn’t know if he’s being polite or if he means it, but he’d guess the former.

 

Senku’s mulled over every word of Dr. Xeno’s conversation with him last week, meticulously picking apart every second of the interaction. He has no reason to not go. It’d help his director, get him on his good side, and boost his career in general. Well, if he wanted to progress his career in that direction that is.

 

“You’ve got that look again.” Senku looks up to meet Gen’s smiling eyes.

 

“What do you mean?”

“You look distressed. Is this about the clinician thing?”

 

Senku shouldn’t be surprised that Gen just knows things by now. But he still lets out a pathetic “what the— how’d you know?” in spite of himself.

Gen waves his hands while explaining. “My dad already complained to my other dad about it. Or…complained is the wrong word, he expressed that he really wanted you to go. Anyways, I also eally-ray hope you can go because if not he’s going to make me go and I’d really rather not.”

 

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you not wanna go?”

Senku crosses his arms. “I never said that.”

“Then what’s this fuss about?”

 

“Just like…is this the right choice for me? And stuff like that.” He looks away from Gen and watches Chrome show Tsukasa some ‘totally bad’ sheet music.

Gen seems surprised. “Not because you’re too busy?”

 

“Nah, apparently the workload only gets worse from here actually.”

 

“Wait, what? What year are you again?”

“A freshman, why?”

 

“Oh my gosh you baby !”

 

“Huh? Why? What year are you?”

 

“This is my second year of college.”

 

“Oh, so, like, barely older than me.”

 

“Nuh-uh.” Gen wags his finger. “I’m your senior , respect me.”

 

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Good freshy.” Gen grins, making Senku grimace. 

 

He rolls his eyes. “Well okay, my senior , what is your take on the situation?”

Gen’s expression turns more serious. “Hmm, if I can be curt… I think you’re afraid of going down the wrong path or something. You know, Sunk-cost fallacy.” 

 

“Sunk-cost fallacy?” Senku echoes. “How the hell does that apply to me?”

 

Gen puts his fingers to his chin. “You’re doing Music Performance, right? It feels like going to help middle school directors get Hot Cross Buns together is a waste of time, right? But just because your major might not be in music education doesn’t mean that this experience would be worthless. Take everything I say with a mountain of salt of course, I don’t know everything about you and your situation.” Senku might disagree with that statement slightly; Gen seems to know and notice a lot more than he lets on.

Seeing Senku nodding along, Gen continues.

 

“What I’m saying is that I think you should do it. No doubt that everyone else who you’ve talked to has probably told you the same thing.” Senku wonders if Gen really is psychic. “But maybe they had different perspectives. Anyways, these are just my thoughts.”

 

“You should be a therapist,” Senku remarks.

 

Gen takes off his serious demeanor and replaces it with the usual silly one. “Thanks, Senku-chan! I’m amazing, I know.”

 

Senku regrets his actions. 

 

Ryuusui taps his shoulder, letting him know they have a class in ten.

 

“Oh yeah, one more thing.” Gen’s voice is a little raised, trying to be heard over the increased noise from people packing up. “I don’t know if my dad mentioned this, but you can bring a friend. It might make the experience more ‘worth it’ for you, if you’re still stuck in the ‘if it’s not advancing my playing it’s meaningless’ mindset.”

 

Senku nods in appreciation and the friends move their separate ways. They won’t see each other again today; they don’t have any classes together. Senku loses a little pep in his step at that thought.

 

During office hours, he tells Xeno he accepts his offer. Dr. Xeno is delighted and says that he’ll email Senku the details when he gets home. 

 

“By the way, did you want to bring a friend?”

“Yeah, actually.”

 

“Really?” Dr. Xeno seems slightly taken aback but quickly recovers. “That’s great. Out of curiosity, who exactly is it?”

 

Senku has a lot of friends. Friends he’s made since high school, middle school, even since birth, but a sly, sleazy, second year keeps invading his mind anytime there’s an opportunity to spend time with another person. The realization probably isn’t something he should be having in that person’s father’s office, but he can’t help it if his neurons just can’t slow down and save the thoughts for later— 

 

Senku really needs to get off of Instagram Reels.

Notes:

thanks for reading, i have school now so slower updates i fear (i hate it get me out)

sorry for cringe references and bad jargon, and sorry for college inaccuracies

Chapter 8

Notes:

hi sorry this chapter was late (and short), [insert generic complaint about high school here]

thanks to CasCcat for answering my dumb questions about college :D i think my fbi agent thinks i want to go to tokyo university now from all my recent google searches lol

“Try using an upbow on that.” 

 

Gen does as instructed. 

 

“Try playing it heavier.”

He feels the strings vibrating underneath his wiggling fingers.

 

“No…it’s not that. It’s not heavy, it’s more sad. Heavy, but almost delicate. You know the context, right? This was commissioned work when he was terminally ill. It’s not happy, but I’m not sure it’s quite that despairing yet either. Try again,” Dr. Maxwell instructs.

 

“Ehm…” Gen leans on the beginnings of phrases more. He does his best to keep his tone lighter while also portraying tragedy. He’s not sure if this is correct though.

 

“Better, anywhere else you want me to hear?”

 

Gen flips his page to the double-stops. His private lesson teacher smiles. Gen always spent the most time practicing technique.

 

---

He sits in his car in the music building’s parking lot. The leaves are brown and falling, but his car feels stuffy. He gets a text from Dr. Maxwell, links to viola competitions, national and international. He gets a subsequent text encouraging him to attend the events his teacher provided. He doesn’t need to even look at the name of the sender to know his dad sent the message.

 

The car is on and rumbling, alive beneath Gen. He can’t bring himself to put his car out of park. He sits and thinks. 

 

47th Annual Grand International Viola Competition, or some name similar to that. Maybe it was Music International Grand Prix, maybe Brahms International… it’s always just a hodge podge of random elite sounding words. Always international though, because if you win it, you need to feel special.

 

He wants to say no; He knows he can. But his teacher looks at him with so much expectation, and his parents put so much into his education. Passion lights up their lives and they see nothing but beauty in melody; all Gen sees is sheet music.

 

Passion, Gen muses. The word inherently has gusto to him—no one gets through music education without at least a little, and he’s grown up with two parents that have plenty. 

 

“Passion, pa-shon,” Gen mouths above the consistent whirring of his car. His lips pop the P before his teeth shut to pronounce the “sh”. 

 

Professor Maxwell was a good friend of his dads, which is why he was able to study with him as soon as he mastered the basics. In high school, when the music was too easy and neither of them felt like doing anything, Gen could get Maxwell to get distracted and they would sit and talk. His teacher no doubt knew what he was doing, but Gen got to not play his instrument and Maxwell could take a break because he knew his student would be fine even without the lesson.

 

In times like these, Gen learned that Leonard Maxwell was an extraordinary talent who dominated the viola youth during his time. But he sprained his wrist once, and that was all it took to take the spotlight away from him. Gen can’t help feeling bad for the guy. He had so much passion, but what did that mean in the face of luck?

 

It’s once during one of these long talks Gen asked his teacher if he was ever upset that he wasn’t able to be the world class performer he always dreamed of being. He still tries to figure out the response he was given to this day: a pause, a faraway smile, and a head movement between a nod and a shake. 

 

His mind wanders to his parents who sang by the piano whenever the temperatures started to drop, who always filled the room with cello and bass clarinet duets, who decorated their home with a huge shelf of scores that Gen has seen get messed up and out of order too many times. Passion, he assumes, and of course he sees green when he thinks that.

 

When they played their duet, Senku looked delighted— no, he absolutely was delighted, nearly dancing. He didn’t know the scientist was even capable of making such a pleasant expression. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t find it at least a little enjoyable either—he likes Senku, after all. But if he lit up at all when he played with the other it would have been like the light of a flickering bulb to the sun. Enjoyable, yes, but passionate?

Gen instinctively checks the time when he thinks of the other kid. It’s almost time for dinner. Gen grabs the gear shift and drives to the cafeteria, already thinking about how to win tonight’s poker game.

 

---

“Wanna clinic with me?”

Gen’s mouth parts before closing before opening again to respond. “You know, I think I did tell you that I didn’t want to do it.”

 

Senku brings his hand to his chin. “Wait, really? I thought that was sarcasm.”

 

“Wh—huh?” Gen’s never dealt with such emotional density before. 

 

“I mean if you don’t want to, that's fine I can go alone, but I just figured that you of all people would enjoy doing something different for once. Ruri’s the only one in Music Education, but I’m not that close with her and it’d be kinda weird if I asked her,” Senku explains.

 

Me, of all people? What on Earth is that supposed to mean?

 

“Weird? Why, that Senku’s talking to a girl?” Gen teases.

 

“You are so not funny.” 

 

Gen sticks his tongue out but doesn’t respond.

 

They don’t return to the topic as their whole table starts getting into a long heated debate over how overrated certain composers were.

 

“Absolutely not, I will not tolerate this Mozart slander!” Ryuusui exclaims. 

 

“You just like him because he was as careless with money as you are,” Kohaku retorts. She’s team Schubert and thinks Mozart is slightly overhyped. 

 

Chrome lets out an “ooo” at that. 

 

“Huh…I kinda like Beethoven’s music, but I know people think he’s overrated.” Tsukasa joins the conversation.

 

“Beethoven, huh? I think he’s good, but I like Telemann,” Ruri shares.

 

“Telemann? Literally no one ever talks about him, other than winds,” Senku scoffs, but not impolitely. “Now I’m curious though, who do you guys like the most?”

 

A cute conversation about their passions. A tiny place in Gen’s heart no bigger than the size of a coffee bean pushes inward, a part of his soul cracks and his chest blooms with vicious tendrils putting his chest on pins and needles. What does he offer to the conversation? But right now he doesn’t need to say anything, it’s okay.

 

“I like Tchaikovsky!” Taiju offers. 

 

“Someone likes expression,” Ukyo comments. “I do have to say I enjoy his works too. Mahler is probably one of my favorites though, really fun to play.” 

 

Ukyo spoke. Quiet Ukyo. So now is it out of character for Gen, a very talkative person, to not say anything? What should he say? Which composer is not too pretentious but not too basic either? His panic increases when only the top radio hits cross his mind.

 

Yuzuriha hums thoughtfully. “This is tough, I think we can all agree it’s hard to pick a favorite. I like Fauré’s work though!”

 

Chrome makes another impressed sound. “I’ve got to say Bach, he’s the OG! What about you, Gen?”

Chrome, nice, kind, sweet, thoughtful Chrome. Gen wants nothing more than to strangle the polite kid for forcing him to answer the question. He should’ve just gone earlier when everyone else was distracted by the Kohaku v. Ryuusui battle. Now everyone’s listening because everyone needs to know his music taste to make a judgement.

 

“How about Senku-chan?”

 

“Debussy,” Senku blows a piece of eardust off his pinky finger. Dammit, Gen should have picked Debussy too. “What about you, Mentalist?"

 

“Ehm…Brahms…? Brahms.” Gen tries his best to sound firm in his answer, as if he didn’t just randomly select a composer.

 

The table nods and continues to discuss, not giving his response too much thought. Gen has survived the social interaction and can finally breathe. His chest still feels heavy but he doesn’t think about it. He pulls out a deck of cards he brought.

 

“While we talk, who wants to go for some gambling?”

 

---

 

Senku

Lowkey you never gave me an answer yesterday, do u still wanna clinic w me?

Ofc you don’t have to, I’m just offering

Gen

oh yea okay

 

Senku

Is that a yes?

Again, if you really don’t want to that’s fine. I didn’t realize you werent being sarcastic that time

 

Gen

yea, it’s fine

this is good for the resume! thanks senku-chan (ദ്ദി˙ᗜ˙)

 

Gen tosses his phone onto the bed next to him and pretends like he’s not fighting a huge grin. They’re friends, such good friends in fact that they send videos sometimes; this is normal behavior. Gen shouldn't get too excited, but how can he not overthink it when Senku asked him twice?

 

The music part is less exciting, but helping kids? It can’t be that horrible, right? Gen’s not the biggest fan of children, they creep him out sometimes especially around that age of not sentient but just sentient enough, but middle schoolers are way past that. All he needs to watch out for is puberty.

 

He’s happy. Senku texted him, how could he not be? He likes Senku, he’s happy, he’s happy, he’s happy.

 

But he’s not elated, which is weird because he has been elated with crushes in the past. Gen’s happy, he smiles, kicks his feet, and grins wildly at the text. He smiles more than he should if it’s just platonic but he’s not blushing and his heart isn’t fluttering. Now he’s confused, again.

 

He sits up on his bed, head disoriented, bouncing from TikTok sound to TikTok sound. He needs to do something. He reaches for his cards, grounding himself in the juxtaposition between the smooth surface and rougher edges, springing them from one hand to another. But it’s not right, doesn’t feel real. His chest is still tight, his throat is filled; he needs to do something. Gen grabs his laptop and opens his student portal. Music history essay due in a week, pass. Music theory workset due in three days, pass. Music Composition Final Project, Gen pauses.

 

That’s right, he has this final project to do. He might as well do it now, a free stressless hundred, it’d probably help Kaseki out too, to have an early submission instead of all of them piling in a day before winter break.

 

He grabs his car keys, calls out to Ukyo letting him know he’s going out, and drives to Murasaki Cafe— It’s the only place other than the library that’s open until ten pm.

 

He sits down in his usual seat, the booth two behind the register, next to the wall. Gen opens his laptop to load up Sibelius, frantically turning the startup music down when it blasts Sibelius No.6 First Movement at full volume. He takes out his earbuds and a robotic “your headset is connected” spits in his ears. 

 

It’s going to be a piano solo, he decides. He can play piano and it’s the easiest option. Sibelius prompts him to add a time signature. He goes with 4/4.

 

[Title] and about a hundred bars of whole rests stare at him.

 

Right, how does one start writing a piece again? Doesn’t matter, he thinks, clicking C-E-G into the left hand part for the first measure. Then F-A-C, then G-B-D. I-IV-V, he can’t get more formulaic than that. Gen knits his eyebrows, wondering if he should go for anything less basic. But it’s fine, he’s just a student. Who’s to blame him for choosing such an uninspiring pedagogic chord progression?

 

Should he organize the harmonies to sound better? It’d be nice to have a piano or keyboard in front of him right now, to listen and play, to get started on a melody. Right now his only choices are to quit and do it later, or to try and conjure up a melody without having heard the chords. He could do it the other way around, figuring out the chords that go well with the melody best, but having already written three measures of bass clef he’s feeling too lazy to change it now. 

 

Ting a-ling.

 

The bell sounds. It's rhythmic, like an eighth note hugging two sixteenths. Ting-aling. This could be part of his piece.

 

“You again.”

Gen looks up to find the very man that basically brought him here. “You again,” he repeats back.

 

Senku forgoes ordering coffee and plops himself across from Gen unceremoniously. Gen feels his chest get warm. It bleeds through his clothes, and if he brought his cold fingers to his chest he’s sure he’d feel it too.

 

“What’re you doing?”

 

Gen keeps his eyes trained on his screen. “Writing.”

 

“Words?”

 

“No, music.”

 

“So, composing,” Senku clarifies.

 

Gen nods. “Mhm.”

 

Senku spins Gen’s laptop towards him just enough to be able to see the program.

 

“Oh wait, is this for that assignment?” Senku groans. “I haven’t even started on that yet.”

 

“Eally-ray? I thought you of all people would be on top of things.”

 

“Yeah, and I thought you of all people would procrastinate the most.”

 

Gen shuts his laptop dramatically. “You think so lowly of me!”

 

Senku rolls his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. He doesn’t respond, so Gen opens his laptop again. Three chords and [Title] sit there once more. Ting-aling, ting-aling, Gen hums. Hmm-hmhm-hmm. A quarter note, two eighths, and a half note. He could do an increasing or decreasing scale before spinning it into a melody. E, DC, B…he plops the notes down. It sounds elementary, but he’s just a student, Kaseki’s not expecting greatness. Now he might jump to that F, raise it a third, and end on the dominant. F, A, G.

 

Senku also pulls out his laptop. Gen sees it from his peripheral, a singular sticker of a blue ear-less cat on the bottom left corner of his laptop.

 

“Doraemon?”

 

Senku looks up like an activated sleeper agent. “Huh?”

 

Gen extends a finger towards Senku’s laptop. “You have a Doraemon sticker.”

“Oh, this?” Senku taps the sticker and rubs a few circles on it. “Yeah, I like Doraemon.”

 

Gen nods. Senku resumes his typing, fingers flying over the keyboard, hitting the backspace maybe three times total. Was it always this awkward? No, right? The first night they met they had been together for over twenty hours and there wasn’t a hint of whatever this is. Gen has started fabricating things, clearly. A mix of dopamine rushes and a little fight-or-flight activated, it’s natural for him to start feeling weirdly self-conscious. Without thinking, he pulls out his cards.

 

A default. When he didn’t feel like practicing, when he needed the silence between auditions in a waiting room to be filled, when he noticed someone in the warmup room getting shaky-bow, he always pulled out his cards. It’s habitual, yet he hasn’t done a trick for Senku yet. What does that mean? Does it mean anything?

 

“Senku-chan, are you busy?”

Senku’s hands pause over the keyboard, his eyes glancing up faster than they would have if he was actually focused. “Kind of?”

 

“What are you working on?”

 

“Workset. It’s so stupid though. They assume you forget everything from high school, now I’m stuck here writing 1s2, 2s2, 2p6 until I rage quit,” Senku grumbles. “Do you need something?”

 

Gen pretends he understood what Senku said and tries to act casual. He swallows, no backing out now. Performance anxiety is definitely not his thing. “Pick a card.” He extends his elbows and fans out the deck.

 

The corners of Senku’s mouth twitch. He pushes his computer aside and reaches out and grabs a card. 

 

“Remember your card, and put it back. You can now cut the deck however you’d like, I won’t look!” Gen puts his hands over his eyes.

 

He can hear Senku scoff disbelievingly followed by the soft slapping of cards against the table. 

 

“Alright, I’m done.”

 

Gen takes his hands off his eyes. Senku is leaning forward onto the table. His elbows rest on top of the wood, eyes gleaming.

 

“You can keep the cards in your hands,” Gen instructs. “Start dealing. Stop whenever you want, and flip over that card.”

 

Senku deals until he flips over a Four of Diamonds. Real lucky for Gen, this’ll make the trick seem like real magic.

 

Gen hums mysteriously. “What an interesting indication card! Deal four more times and see what you get.”

 

Gen takes in much delight at the slight widening of Senku’s eyes when he’s met with his King of Hearts.

 

“Your card.” Gen brings his hands together and pseudo bows.

 

“Heh,” Senku laughs. “You ten billion percent set this up before hand.”

Gen purses his lips, pretending to fight back a grin. “What makes you say that?”

“Math.” He says it with such a smile, such conviction that Gen can’t help but falter. 

 

“Once a STEM kid, always a STEM kid,” he sighs, recovering quickly. He palms the cards on the table back towards himself. “No appreciation for the whimsy of magic I see.”

“What are you talking about?” Senku grabs a card from Gen. “Science is all about ‘whimsy’, I assure you. Magic just isn’t real.”

“Oh yeah, then how do you explain what you just witnessed then?” Gen shoots, continuing to shuffle his cards under the table, minus the one Senku took.

 

“Probability.”

Gen dips his head and squints at Senku through his eyebrows. “Eriously-say? What are the chances of that happening every time then?”

 

“Pretty high with whatever algorithm you’re using.” 

“As high as a hundred percent?”

“As high as ten billion.” Smug bastard. “I’m willing to put it to the test, too.”

 

Gen halts his shuffling. “We’d be here for a while if you really wanted to test that.”

 

Senku shrugs. Gen brings his cards onto the top of the table. “Aren’t you ‘kind of’ busy?”

 

“Anything beats electronic configuration.”

 

And Senku grins, one not too different from the one that almost slips out when he plays exhilarating music. It’s not that different from the one that he gives when he’s explaining something complex, and it’s not different from the one that he gave Gen when he watched him choke on coke. It’s not different, why would it be? It’s Senku’s expression, stamped with his name and signature, embedded into his very being and printed as his facial fingerprint the moment he was born. It’s his and will always only be his. Gen smiles, and only wishes his own could be half as original.

 

---

 

Senku figures out the secret behind Gen’s trick with only three more additional rounds. Even so, he insists Gen keeps showing him tricks. Good logic practice, he says. 

 

“Think of any person’s name, and any place in the world. Then, deal out each card with each letter of that person’s name and the place.”

Senku deals out nineteen cards for Stephen Hawking and Japan. 

 

“Great! Now put those cards back on top of the deck. Then, grab the previous secret deck and place it on top.”

“And deal nineteen again?” Senku guesses. “Okay Mentalist, this one is actually just math. It doesn’t even require setup, does it?”

 

“I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about, it’s pure magic!”

Senku deals out the cards, and sure enough the twentieth card is his.

 

“Oh my! Senku-chan, that was your card, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yeah. Actually, this one wouldn’t have worked if—”

“Excuse me,” an employee interrupts. “We’re closing now, actually.”

“No worries, we were just getting ready to head out!” Gen packs up his stuff quickly and crosses his bag over his body. They thank the workers and wish them a good night, heading out into the cool November night.

 

The wind slaps their faces, it’s way colder than any of them expected. Their bodies immediately tense up and they scramble to get their jackets on. 

 

“Shit, it’s cold.” Senku mutters.

 

“Yeah, I’ll drive you?” Gen offers.

 

Senku nods and they run to Gen’s car, flinging the doors open and spamming the engine on button to start the heater. 

 

“By the way, I got the time for the clinician opportunity,” Senku comments after they both warmed up enough to fasten their seatbelts. “It’s tomorrow, 10 AM for their top band. Does that work?”

“I mean it has to, right? They’re lucky I only have afternoon classes tomorrow.”

“Yeah, same. Really late notice.”

“Anything for the resume.” Gen throws his hands up.

 

“Anything for the resume,” Senku agrees.

 

Gen starts driving towards Senku’s apartment. Still as self conscious as any person sitting with their crush would be, but he hides the weird hiccups in his speech as a symptom of the cold and can generally pass with no suspicion. 

 

“You never ordered coffee today,” Gen realizes out loud.

 

Senku leans back against the seat, stretching. “Yeah, like I said last time, just bean water.”

Gen’s eyes stay on the road. “Why go to a coffee shop then?”

“Figured if you go so often there must be something good about it.” Senku pauses. “The atmosphere is nice, too.”

 

Gen refuses to let himself think about that statement in further detail. Nope, absolutely not, that’s going to open a whole can of delusional worms that he does not need right now. 

 

“The atmosphere…” Gen taps his steering wheel. “I agree, the library is a little intimidating.”

“Right? Too many sweats. Let’s make it clear though, I definitely prefer energy drinks.”

 

Gen gives a laugh at that. It’s easy, so easy that before he can stop himself, cola boiling in his warm chest pushes his next words out without thinking. “Hey, Senku?”

“Yeah?” He gathers his hands behind his neck and leans back against the carseat, eyes closed.

“Can I let you in on a little secret?”

 

Senku hums.

 

It’s probably weird, to stage his next words like this, with a setup so grand for a trick so pathetic. But that slight widening in Senku’s eyes when he showed him tricks, the part in his lips, the silent sparkle that neither acknowledged but both knew full well was there, even in tiny amounts. That was right, that was real.

 

It comes out as a breathily, confessional. “I don’t really like coffee either.”

 

Senku opens his eyes to peek at Gen and just smiles, like it’s factual. “I knew it.”

Notes:

criticism is appreciated :D

Chapter 9

Notes:

i went to a band thing yeterday and now i regret quitting, just a bit. and i didn't get to say hi to my old directors cuz i'm scared they hate me for quitting, so i was lowk sad

uh this chapter isn't beta read since my sibling who's my main beta reader is sick and i was not about to bother my friend to beta my unedited writing even tho he reads this fic and has access to the doc (hi btw). Was gonna wait but if i do that then it'll prob be another week and it's alr been a while lol. feel free to yell at me if anything is worded weirdly (i do this a lot), if the grammar is odd (also pretty often), or to just give general criticism (which i love)!

anyways oops it's been two weeks how y'all doing? here's the 5k clinic chapter

When Senku’s bored and waiting for something, he thinks. Not about abstract concepts in his various favorite fields, but about more personal things. Really, these are the only chances he ever gets to reflect. When he’s in a liminal space between doing, he’s unable to commit to genuine mental rigor as that would fall under the next time he’s actually ‘doing’ something. But Senku’s brain never shuts up, so it picks the next easiest thing to thing about. He stands at the foot of his dorm building waiting for a familiar Nissan Juke to roll up, absentmindedly tapping the Monster in his hand.

 

Einstein proved with relativity that gravity is an illusion built from the bending of space time. A theory in his time has been proved true now, with numerous calculations having been performed, confirming that Einstein’s equations are far more accurate than Newton’s, abolishing the idea of gravity truly being a force.

 

What Senku couldn’t ever figure out was why he wasn’t taught this in school. Why the educational system taught him Newtonian gravity instead of what was actually gravity baffled him. He raised his hand in class so much to the point the teacher would just ignore the waving arm. He was considered a ‘Feynman bro’, or at the very least an insane nitpicker. He’d say “Relativity disproved Newton long ago! Can’t we learn Einstein’s equations instead?” and people would say “Senku just thinks he’s so smart for knowing what basic relativity is.”

 

Senku never acknowledged these comments, but the question still bothered him. Why was the truth being hidden, and so obviously and poorly at that? Why trade accuracy for simplicity?

 

Senku’s brain switches back to ‘doing’ mode as soon as he spots that little loaf looking gray vehicle slowly slow to a stop in front of him.

 

“Good morning Senku-chan!” Gen chirps the second Senku opens the passenger door.

 

“Jeez, quiet down.” Senku slides into the seat and slouches until his head (sans hair) reaches the middle of the seat. “It’s too early for this.” He pops open an energy drink.

 

“You’re going to drink that in front of the children?” Gen chastises.

 

“Duh, when else?”

“You’re such a bad influence.”

“For what, middle schoolers?”

“When did you start getting caffeinated?” Gen hums knowingly.

“...middle school.”

 

This is one of those things he signed up for knowing he’d have to do it, but never expecting to actually do it. It existed as a concept in his head before, never in practice. Here he is testing it out, teaching children. 

 

“This school might actually be cracked though,” Senku comments. “Did you see the music? Grade four for middle school is insane.”

 

Gen nods, turning onto a main road. “Yeah, I took a look a while back when my dad first agreed to it. The director is super pushy, and wants to go to Midwest.”

Senku blinks. “Midwest? The Chicago clinic?”

 

“The very one,” Gen affirms. “She’s talked to my parents a lot, about advice and stuff. I think she’s hoping to get a rec letter out of them too.”

 

“Don’t they need to interact with the band for that?”

 

Gen offers a wry smile. “Yeah, no. We might have to be obligated to write the letters now.”

 

---

 

They arrive twenty minutes early. Maya Biggs, the head band director of Aoba-Japan International School and Brody Dudley, the assistant band director greet them warmly in the band hall. It’s an intimidating place, to say the least. Though small and bright, one wall is already lined with trophies towering over them, reminding them of the excellence the program upholds.

“Hey! Welcome! I saw Xeno’s email, you guys are his substitutes?” Maya asks in Japanese. 

 

Senku and Gen nod politely. Senku’s never seen Gen so civil and polite before, but he falls into the role so naturally Senku wonders if he’s just been missing the queues the entire time.

 

“Should we talk in English or Japanese? This is an international school, right?” Senku asks tentatively. 

 

Brody laughs. “I like this kid already. It doesn’t really matter because all kids are proficient with both languages. Do what suits you best!” 

 

The college students look at each other.

 

“Can you do English?” Senku tries to ask tentatively, but it probably comes out blunt.

 

“Yeah! I mean, I can do English, but if you can’t or don’t want to, that's perfectly fine,” Gen offers a sheepish smile, hands waving all around while he talks. He’s really being polite in front of the directors, Senku notices. Maybe even jittery?

 

Senku switches to the other language. “Nah, English is okay for me too.”

 

Gen’s mouth parts slightly before he responds. “No way, how’s your English so good?” He keeps the conversation in their second language. 

 

“Email.”

“Pardon? Explain?” 

 

“Emailed NASA when I was ten and emailed some music professors about audio equipment and stuff back when I had a phase of being really into music tech.”

 

Gen’s mouth hangs open. “There’s no way. You little nerd, how is your English better than mine?”

“It’s definitely not, considering your parents are American and everything.”

“Yes! But! You probably know a bunch of technical very specific science-y terms, that’s impressive.” Gen takes a breath. “Also, NASA? What did you even email them about?”

 

“Rocket experiments.”

 

Gen kind of squints his eyes at that. “Hey… by any chance were you emailing some guy named Wingfield?”

 

Senku’s just about to open his mouth to respond when Gen interrupts him. “Nevermind, tell me later.” He turns his attention back to the directors. “Alright, we’ll just speak English. Are there any expectations for us? Anything specific you’d like second opinions on?” Gen turns back to the poor directors that just stood there listening to them yap. Or, just the one poor director now, as Brody ran off to print more copies of whatever band directors always need copies of.

 

“Y’all seem like bright kids, I’m sure you guys have got it,” Maya smiles big. She pats them on both their shoulders reassuringly. “Thanks for coming again, would you guys like to go over the scores in my office?”

 

They nod wordlessly and follow her into the office directly attached to the band hall. It’s cozy, with the only light being the gently glow of fairy lights strung across the ceiling of the room. Maya’s got a huge couch against one wall, and two individual armchairs against the opposite wall. Shelves filled with pictures and certificates line the walls not unlike the trophies in the band hall. She has a big desk, the ones Senku sees in Ikea and goes “Damn, those are nice.” 

 

“Sit anywhere you’d like!” Maya says.

 

They sit on the couch, plopping down one after the other. The buoyant nature of the couch dips in the middle and very subtly pushes the two closer together so that their thighs are touching ever so slightly. He looks at the separate chairs across from him and briefly wonders why the couch was his first reaction. Maya hands them two copies of the scores before he can consider the question any further.

“We’re planning on doing Bou-Shu for the march, but I’m worried it’s not difficult enough.”

 

“If you want rigor then Sousa’s probably the way to go. He’s also the staple, so you can’t really go wrong with him,” Senku offers.

 

Maya smiles. “You know what? Xeno told me the exact same thing. I happen to find his stuff overplayed though, and Bou-Shu is really nice.”

“Honestly, you needn’t worry about rigor so much right now. Bou-Shu is not as challenging as maybe Stars and Stripes Forever, but if you nail it it means so much more than a mediocre recording of Grade four or five,” Gen flips through the pages in his hand. “Your other pieces are already pretty difficult though. Sòlas Ané is a really nice choice for your slower piece. Grade four as well.”

 

The director hums in acknowledgement. 

 

Gen continues. “So in my honest opinion, I don’t think the difficulty of the pieces you choose is as much of a problem as if you can actually pull off playing such difficult music.” He closes the copy of Sòlas Ané and opens a copy of Rail Riffs. “Brian Balmages and Samuel R. Hazo, this is definitely a setlist targeted for America alright,” Gen laughs.

 

“Yeah, those composers are great, and since Midwest is American I tried to find some composers from that country,” Maya explains. “I would have loved to do Arabesque though.”

Senku makes a face. “Yeah, a lot of middle schools play that piece thinking they can pull it off…don’t fall down that rabbit hole. It’s a Grade five for a reason.”

 

Maya throws her head back when she laughs. “I know, I know exactly what you’re talking about!” She calms herself down from the laughter and recollects before continuing. “But there’s always a small part of me that wonders if I can do better. The musical ego, ya know?”

 

Senku and Gen both say something about understanding what she means and their conversations bounce from music to school and competitions before all coming back to the music. Gen does most of the heavy lifting, partially because Senku doesn’t know what to say, but also because he’s turning the idea over in his head— a musical ego. He’s certainly met a good number of musical try-hards in his life or science fair try-hards (ISEF was always full of people convinced they were the next Newton), but was the source of such dedication competition? Senku always assumed the source of their competitive nature was their passion for the subject, so passionate that they somehow felt the need to be better than everyone else. But what if that passion was actually a passion for being better than everyone else? 

 

He recalls his time in middle and high school, the seething glares from second chairs to first, had it always been solely because of competition? Hell, even now, people hogging practice rooms despite having their booked time being over, or even just hogging them so other people can’t use them, was it not simply ‘bitch’ behavior and instead derived from a feeling of inadequacy? 

 

It makes Senku feel…weird to say the least. He competes, but has never been a competitive person. He wins and he loses, but neither of the outcomes affects how he feels towards the subject; neither of the outcomes affect how he feels toward his opponent. But if people can be so deeply motivated by competition, he’s starting to suspect a different reason for the current awkward air between some of the people he used to be friends with, a reason that goes beyond just falling out.

 

There’s a distant sound of shuffling feet and young children’s voices that steadily crescendo into Senku’s thoughts. He doesn’t register that those are the sounds of actual kids until Gen nudges him on the shoulder to tell him that they need to actually do their job now.

 

Senku takes a swig of his drink before leaving it in Maya’s office (he decided that he indeed did not want to be a ‘bad influence’), and the college students both wince at the contrast of bright band hall lights and the cozy fairy lights.

 

The two take their places next to the podium and watch the kids file in, grabbing their instruments from their lockers and getting ready for rehearsal. Senku does this nearly every day, yet he can’t help but get nostalgic at the sight. There’s something different and magical about the first ensemble you’re a part of no matter how bad they were.

 

Maya strides up to the podium confidently and turns the metronome on to 72 beats a minute, and Senku gets even more nostalgic. It’s not so much a ringing sound as it is a slamming sound, each beat so strong he could almost be convinced it’s his own heartbeat. He misses this, he realizes, professional ensembles don’t ever use metronomes anymore.

 

The director raises her baton. “Concert F.”

“F? Not A?” Gen whispers, hiding his face behind his sleeves and turning to lean into Senku’s ear. His breath tickles. 

“Band, not orchestra,” Senku mutters back, not moving away from the close proximity.

 

The band plays the note. The balance is very off. The college students immediately exchange judgemental glances that are trying to be nonjudgemental.

 

“Should we…say something?” Senku whispers.

 

Gen shrugs.

The director cuts it off after eight counts and the band plays a total of three concert Fs before he turns to the college students. The metronome still ticks loudly in the hall, and Senku can feel the beat in his shoes.

 

Gen nudges Senku, eyes silently conveying that the director wants their input.

 

Senku looks back, trying to say “What am I supposed to say?” without opening his mouth.

Gen just nudges him again. 

 

“Um…” Senku clears his throat awkwardly, preparing to cringe when he raises his voice. “Woodwinds should listen to low brass more.”

 

And then Senku doesn’t know what else to say. He’s a performance major, he’s never learned how to actually teach other people! Why did Xeno even recommend him in the first place? Senku internally cries. The situation is ten billion percent cringe now. The kids look at him confused and the directors are expectant. This is why no undergrad ever gets these kinds of opportunities, Senku realizes.

 

“A good, balanced sound is like a pyramid,” Gen’s voice slices through the silence cleanly. It’s even more satisfying than a perfectly even thirty second note run. He brings his hands up and forms a triangle with them. “The bottom is the brass and bass voices, followed by tenor and alto, finally ending with soprano voices at the top.” He wiggles his fingers at the top vertex of the pyramid to emphasize his point.

 

“Notice how the pyramid is narrow at the top?” Gen continues. “Soprano voices are naturally heard the best, so we need less volume from those voices to balance the brass at the bottom.” Gen moves his thumbs this time, representing the lower instruments. “We achieve this balance best when, as Senku-chan mentioned,” Gen looks at the other boy with a smile before turning his gaze back to the students. “Listening, specifically listening down to our tuba and euphonium friends.”

 

Nods ripple through the ensemble. Maya smiles approvingly. Gen ducks his head and gestures for rehearsal to continue. 

 

“Concert F.” She picks up her baton to count off again. 

 

It’s better now. Brass shines through much more and the tone is richer and darker, but the trumpets stick out a little bit. Gen taps Senku behind his back.

 

“You do it,” Senku hisses quietly, “I clearly don’t know how to properly explain stuff.”

Gen rolls his eyes and whispers back. “Yeah, well I don’t know how to play a wind instrument so… good luck, Senku-chan!” And with that, his palm plants itself between Senku’s scapulae and pushes the boy forward. 

 

“Trumpets, open the back of your jaw more and support so your sounds aren’t so bright,” Senku says like a boring history teacher, only louder. He’s not sure if his words even did anything. It’s the kind of obvious advice that you know how to recite only because you’re not sure how else to describe it. 

 

Maya isolates the trumpets and has just the section play concert F. The first row of woodwinds looks absolutely miserable and bored. Behind them, a clarinet player starts doodling on their page and a bassoon player leans back in their chair and closes their eyes. 

 

“Uh— support?” Senku suggests meekly. “You’re not just blowing air through the instrument, music kind of uses your whole body.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Gen whispers something to the director. Maya steps off the podium and gestures to Senku to step on. Senku tries to shoot Gen a questioning glance, but the mentalist is suddenly super interested in the ceiling. He looks back to the podium and starts moving before he can even consider it being a bad idea.

 

As soon as he steps upon the small stage he can feel the authority. Being able to look down at everyone in the ensemble makes him realize he’s not as invisible as he usually thinks he is. Suddenly feeling more in his element, he grabs a pencil on the conductor stand.

 

“Okay trumpets, here's what you’re going to do since you guys clearly don’t know how to support.” Senku points the pencil at them. “Sit all the way to the back of your chair, and sit up as straight as you can. Your back should be directly against the back of your seat.”

 

The students glance around and murmur hesitantly but ultimately obey anyways.

 

“Lift your feet off the ground and play the concert F again.” Senku turns off the metronome and taps the pencil into the stand at a steady beat. “One, set, breathe…”

 

Instantly the trumpets sound so much more supported. Actually using their diaphragms and controlling their air, they stop sticking out individually and even sound more cohesive. It’s still bright, but it’s closer to the sound they want.

 

“Do you hear a difference?” Gen asks the band naturally as if this is his job. “Everybody, not just trumpets.”

 

Some shake their heads nervously, but some nod eagerly.

“How was it different? Any volunteers to share?” Gen asks again. The crowdwork kind of reminds Senku of a magician, though he supposes Gen is kind of one.

 

A clarinet player raises a hand. “It sounds more centered.”

“What a perfect way to describe it!” Gen compliments. “Supporting the sound allows for focused and centered tone which makes the music sound so much better. That’s also what’s going to really make you stand out from the thousands of other bands applying for Midwest. Everyone can play the right notes and rhythms, but not everyone can make it sound good.”

 

Gen’s definitely going a little overboard with the inspirational speech about good tone. It’s tone, obviously good tone is important. His description is way too overzealous. But Senku squints into the crowd and sees kids captivated by his words. The way he makes them feel special, that they are capable of a good tone, Senku can’t deny the power in that.

 

“Another way to get a rich tone is to open the back of your mouth more,” Senku picks up where Gen left off. “It should almost feel like you’re yawning. Let’s try again trumpets, but this time let’s add trombones, euphonium, and tuba as well. So basically low brass and trumpets. Alright, one set breathe…”

 

---

 

Senku nitpicks their warmup for the entirety of rehearsal. It occurs to him only after everyone’s left that he might have been too picky. It’s not like he took away time from rehearsing the Midwest music because they’re not allowed to start the music till December first, but warm up is dull no matter how you look at it. 

 

Senku returns to Maya’s office to finish the last of the Monster he hasn’t touched in an hour. The fizziness is all gone now, which is disappointing, but 250 yen is 250 yen. 

 

When he emerges, he finds Gen standing with Maya and Brody who wave him over.

 

“I want to take this moment to thank you two again for substituting for Xeno. He’s got a lot going on, and I know he probably sprung this on y’all last minute, so thank you for still coming out here and helping us out,” Maya starts. “I was really impressed by how you helped the band understand concepts.”

“Oh for sure!” Brody says. “We’ve been telling them about balance for so long, but it’s always just been ‘flobonets play softer!’ You guys were seriously amazing, thanks!”

 

Gen chuckles. “Oh stop, we just recited things we were taught back in the day. What’s education if not just repeating truths?” He says modestly. “You’ve definitely taught the kids well too, they do play well!”

“Aw, that’s the kids and their hard work.” Maya slaps Gen’s shoulder lightly. “Well, hey! I know you guys probably have class later, but if you’re not busy we’d love to treat you guys to lunch!” Maya brings up.

 

Lunch? That isn’t being held in the campus’ cafeteria? The college students turn to each other, the offer is too tempting.

 

“We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” Gen expresses.

 

“No, not at all! We thank all our clinicians this way,” Brody insists.

 

“Well then, I guess we could.” Senku says. “How are we getting there?”

Brody guffaws at the bluntness of Senku’s question. “Maya and I get to work by public transport every day. I think your Dad mentioned something about you having a car though,” he says to Gen. “We’ll send you the address, and you guys can drive there while Maya and I take the subway.”

“Oh, are you sure? My car is big enough to fit all of us,” Gen offers. Senku kind of wishes Gen didn’t say that, four people in a car? Sure they’d fit with a seat left over, but Gen’s car feels exclusively meant for two.

 

“Nah, don’t worry about it, kid.”

Maya clicks her phone shut and claps her hands together. “Okay, I’ve just sent you guys the address. If you guys get there before us, the reservation name is Maya, okay?”

 

Senku and Gen nod and thank the directors vigorously before heading to the car.

 

The world’s been loud all day. There’s always something going on that’s causing noise. Pencil scratches, coughing, squeaks of shoes against the gross tile in the brass section, it’s all been putting Senku slightly on edge for the whole day. It doesn’t help that the senses were all heightened by the Monster either. Yet all of it halts the moment the car door slams shut and Senku’s sitting in silence next to Gen. It’s not actual silence, there’s breathing sounds and the inescapable noise of the society outside the glass, but it’s bearable next to Gen. The pseudo silence may even beat real silence, as true silence wouldn’t have the steady counts of Gen’s breath going in and out. 

 

“You ready to go?” It’s the first Japanese Senku’s heard in a while.

“Yeah,” Senku grins, slipping back into his native language easily. English isn’t difficult, but it does use a different part of his brain and sometimes he’s not confident if what he’s saying makes a hundred percent sense. “Can’t wait for non-cafeteria delicacies.”

 

“So true. I’ve never actively craved McDonalds until college.” Gen unparks the car and Senku reclines the passenger seat. He rests his hands underneath his head.

 

“Oh, yes by the way. The person I was emailing was in fact Wingfield, why?” Senku suddenly remembers the conversation they dropped earlier.

 

“Ah…” Gen makes a contemplative noise. “That makes a lot of sense.”

 

Senku raises a brow. Gen doesn’t see his expression but he knows what it is.

 

“My dad’s full name is Xeno Houston Wingfield. He used to tell us about some crazy prodigy that lived in Japan when we were still in Houston.”

 

Senku blinks at all the new information those two sentences hold. “Our director worked for NASA?”

 

“Yeah, for a time.” Gen flips his turn signal and looks behind as he merges. “You’re eriously-say similar to him, you know? Both massive nerds and prodigies of science who turned to music.”

 

“Why’d he ever leave NASA?”

Gen shrugs. “Passion, I guess. You’d know more about it than me.” 

 

It registers to Senku that the statement is a little odd, but not unexpected. He’s sure the Mentalist thinks he’s doing a good job at pretending, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that consistently playing Block Blast in rehearsal isn’t something someone who absolutely loves what they're doing does. But still, Gen’s great at viola, if he truly lacked all passion how could he even practice and get to the level he is at now? Gen, who isn't fully present in rehearsal. Gen, who pretends to like coffee. Gen, who lights up when he's doing magic. Why? Senku’s head is full of questions today.

 

“Maybe.” Senku says unconvincingly. “Hey wait, ‘when you were still in Houston’? You used to live in the US?”

 

Gen’s eyebrows lift. “I’m surprised you caught that, Senku-chan! But yes, I did live in America for a time. Dad worked for NASA and Papa worked for the military. Very American, I know. They moved here after quitting and really establishing themselves as musicians.” 

 

“Do you ever miss it?”

Gen wrinkles his nose and he looks at Senku. “What, Texas? Definitely don’t miss Houston’s humidity, but also Tokyo’s not much better. America? Not particularly, I like the food here better.”

 

“I mean culturally though? Not at all?” Senku keeps asking. It feels like there’s an extra tendon pulling his chest inwards every time Gen stops talking.

 

Gen moves his head leftward, thinking. “The West is definitely less stifling with homogeny, but it has its own stresses. There’s not a place I prefer or not, you know? I’m pretty shallow, so since every place has treated me well enough, I don’t have much of an opinion on any of them.”

Senku wants to fish for more. “No opinion whatsoever?”

 

“No,” Gen confirms.

 

“Really?”

“How long are you going to drill me for, Senku-chan?” He says it jokingly, but his eyes stay still and entirely on the road.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

 

“Don’t be,” Gen says. “There’s just not that much interesting about me, really. I’d hate to disappoint you.” His tone is lower and more serious than usual. Perhaps he noticed, because the next sentence he says comes out bright. “Anywho, I think my dad realized who you were the second your name was on the roster. I’m surprised you didn’t realize who he was though.”

 

“Yeah, well, we kinda all call him Dr. Xeno instead of Dr. X. Wingfield which is how he signed off our letters so,” Senku sits back up when he notices Gen slide into a parking garage. “I just never put two and two together.”

 

“Yeah, why do we all call him Dr. First name?” Gen wonders out loud, looking around and turning into a parking space. “That’s pretty funny, isn’t it?”

 

“Beats me,” Senku sighs, turning to return his seat back to the original position.

“You don’t have to bother,” Gen tells him. “You’re the only one who sits there anyways.”

 

Gen exits the car from his side languidly and walks over to the trunk where he’ll meet Senku in four seconds. Well, usually at least. This time it’s six seconds, nearing seven because Senku spent two to three of those seconds wondering why Gen’s statement made his heart drum and his face a degree warmer.

 

---

 

They arrive at the restaurant before the directors do and get seated first. It’s an Italian restaurant with nice leather booth seats. Senku slides into the same seat next to Gen. 

“It smells so good,” he comments. It may not be three Michelin stars worthy, but it might as well be compared to what they’ve been eating for the past few months.

 

“Yeah, for sure,” Gen comments absent mindedly, turning his phone landscape mode for some reason.

His back is against the booth and he’s holding his phone only 12 ish centimeters away from his face. It doesn’t matter what Gen’s doing, Senku knows this. He’s curious though, so he tries to take a peek. But with how Gen’s holding the device, he doesn’t have a choice other than to lean back and closer to Gen.

His chin is basically on Gen’s shoulder when he can finally see what’s on the other boy’s screen.

 

“Oh, is this that Vocaloid Miku Rhythm game thing?”

 

Gen jumps and leaps in the opposite direction. “Senku-chan! Hi!” 

 

“Hi,” Senku responds, not moving his head from where it was. “Was I so wrong that you got blasted into the wall out of offense?”

 

“Huh? No, it’s…don’t worry about it!” Gen takes a breath regaining his composure. “But yeah, this is Project Sekai. I’m surprised you know about it.”

 

“Little cousin,” Senku simply says. He remembers the way Suika barged into his room to announce that they added two of her favorite artist’s songs onto the game.

 

“Ah, the Ado fan?” Gen remembers things well, Senku notes. It’s been a while since Senku mentioned that.

“Yeah. Is the game any fun?”

“Depends on if you like rhythm games or not, but in my opinion yes.” Gen scoots back to where he originally was, and lowers his phone so that they can both see the screen. “I’m kind of errible-tay at it, but I’m definitely getting better.”

“Ah, do you count this in your practicing time?” Senku teases.

 

Gen dramatically shushes Senku as he starts playing a song. “In my defense, this game has actually helped with my tendency to rush.”

 

“Really?” Senku asks.

Gen doesn’t respond as he’s too locked in on hitting the flying bars. Senku didn’t know thumbs could move that fast. When the song ends, the text FULL COMBO pops up on the screen, and a girl with purple hair congratulates him on playing so well. 

 

“Kind of terrible my ass,” Senku remarks. “You got full combo.”

“Could have gotten All Perfect,” Gen shrugs and tosses his phone onto the table with the screen facing down.

 

The timing really couldn’t have been better, as the directors finally roll up the second his screen hits the table.

 

“Hey, hope y’all weren’t waiting for too long!” Maya greets.

 

“No, not at all. We just got here!” Gen assures.

The meal with the directors is pleasant. They tell anecdotes about their lives and offer advice for the students. Gen shares his perspective of his dad’s experiences, and how he thinks that the band looks promising. Senku discusses the latest changes in the music scene, and they all complain about the redistricting for competitions. 

 

And the food is absolutely heavenly. Maya and Brody don’t react much, but the two poorest people at the table are practically banging their fists into the table from how their tastebuds are getting blessed. It’s so good that both Senku and Gen save half of it to-go despite wanting to scarf it all down so they can prolong the experience for later. 

 

It’s only about 1:30 when they’re ready to part ways. The directors said they’d send the payment to Xeno for him to split it however he’d like, and told them that they were welcome to come by anytime.

And they’re back in the car with the smell of Italian stuffed in a styrofoam box radiating through the car.

 

“You have phys chem next, right?” Gen asks.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Gen purses his lips into a tight sarcastic smile. “I’m basically your chauffeur, of course I know.”

 

“Well if you’re really my chauffeur, you’ll know it’s at 3:15,” Senku replies.

Gen throws his hands up. “Alright, well, do you want me to drop you home first?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you,” Senku mutters. “I live all the way in Hongo.”

“It’s fine, I normally just meander around the library for a bit before I go to chamber rehearsals.”

 

“In that case, I need to go to the library too.” Senku turns to recline his seat before remembering it’s already reclined.

“Eally-ray?”

“Yeah, returning a book.”

“What book?”

“The Catcher in the Rye.”

 

Gen chokes on his spit. “Senku-chan reading literature? Did I wake up in the wrong timeline?”

 

“I know you saw me reading it at dinner once, I’m not sure what you’re so surprised about.” Or at least he hopes Gen saw him. He checked out the book because he was interested in what Gen enjoyed reading.

 

“Oh I was surprised then too, alright. I just forgot to mention it, that’s all,” Gen clarifies. “Did you finish it?”

“Yeah, somehow. It was … something.” 

 

“I take it you didn’t like it?” Gen guesses.

“Not exactly, but I couldn’t stand the main character. I think that was kind of the point though.” Senku pauses. “Yeah, I don’t know, I suck at this stuff.”

 

“No, you’re definitely right. It’s coming of age with a really unique, and albeit somewhat annoying, character voice for its time. They didn’t have that much traditional Y/A back in the day, you know?” Gen elucidates. The words tumble out of him so freely. Gen certainly runs over his words sometimes, but what Senku’s noticed is that when it comes to people, he’s somehow extraordinarily articulate. 

 

“Are we going to Ueno’s library?” Senku asks because he doesn’t know how to stay on the topic of literature for much longer.

 

“Yeah, Up’s,” Gen confirms in English.

 

“Up’s?” Senku echoes. 

 

“It’s my way of saying Ueno,” Gen explains.

“...why?”

“Because ‘Ue’ is like the word ‘up’ in English, you know?”

“Oh… and ‘no’ is possessive. Up’s, haha, very funny.” It’s actually pretty clever, but Senku’s not going to let Gen know he thinks that.

 

Gen shakes his head. “No, not just funny, practical. Imagine saying u-e-no, three mora! Absolute insanity when you can just shorten it to a single syllable.” 

 

Senku unwillingly snorts at that. It’s logic perfectly fit for a lazy person, and beautiful in its own way. 

 

“See! You get my point!” Gen points out the noise Senku just made.

 

“No, you hallucinated that,” Senku lies.

Gen takes a hand off the wheel and wags a finger disapprovingly. “You can’t fool a Mentalist.”

 

“I read Grapes of Wrath too,” Senku lies again.

“Eally-ray?”

“No, Mentalist.”

Gen groans and Senku snickers evilly. Gen turns on the radio and they keep talking over Fujii Kaze’s singing.

 

Outside the window is full of unimportant noise. Inside the vehicle, there is only music.

Notes:

uhuahfUAFNSJL this was so cringe lmaooooo i can't write senku locking in very well i fear

yes, i watch veritasium and angela collier. i don't actually know anything abt gravity or whatever, and i'm pretty sure dr. collier coined the term 'feynman bro' so

fun fact some of this chapter and the last were written on paper at school lmao. whenever i feel like i'm falling asleep, i start writing and instantly wake up 💀💀 the power of sengen i guess

also my japanese is def not good enough to be making puns, feel free to yell at me about that too

all the pieces mentioned in this are so fire, so here are yt links to them!
- March-Bou-Shu (my band played this the year AFTER i left 💔💔 )
- Sòlas Ané (the flute/picc solo is sooo pretty)
- Rail Riffs (this one i've never played, but i immediately fell in love after listening, So fun)

thanks for reading (even the long ahh author notes i always tend to leave...i'm a huge yapper sorry), means the world! see y'all next chapter!