Eat Your Heart Out

by JaysDaydreamin

Summary:

Asagiri Gen was still a child when he found out he’d be in danger his entire life.

Ishigami Senku was a boy barely out of puberty when he decided he’d dedicate his life to being an experiment.

Notes:

This is a Dr stone cakeverse au! if you dont know what that is, I suggest doing research as the content could be troubling to some readers. Enjoy! :D

Chapter 1: What We Are Is Wrong

Asagiri Gen was still a child when he found out he’d be in danger his entire life.

He was still a child when he was acting on that commercial set. It was some kind of tooth-rotting candy. He doesn’t remember the name. Just that the texture was chalky and dried out his throat. What he did remember though, was the feeling of sharp canines tearing through his fleshy cheek. Still round with baby fat, and filled with something delicious only his assailant could comprehend. 

It took three grown men–members of the camera crew, his mother recalled to him–to pry the attacker off of him. By that time, though, Gen had looked like a crude horror prop. The man had managed to bite chunks out of his neck and shoulder, and nibbles out of his face. Blood soaked through the front of his shirt, dripping from the junction of his neck. The sight had been apparently sticky and carnal, with fraying tendons and stringy gore. The messy encounter had left him with a brutal scar. It stretched grossly across the otherwise unblemished skin and reminded him of the threat that hung above his head. But it was never anything a good make-up artist couldn’t fix. Of course, they were never permitted to know the truth behind that sprawling red scar.

There were no articles about the incident. That company had paid insurmountable amounts to sweep it under the rug. They couldn’t let the public know they had let such a dangerous fork near a child, of course. That would destroy their image beyond comprehension. The hush money they offered the Asagiri family was of no surprise, quite sizable. His mother was desperate, unwilling to let the accident get out for both fear of ruining her child’s career, and risking the world knowing about what her son was. 

She used the money to pay people off, hire a truly incredible PR team, and had private investigators do very thorough checks on future co-stars, interviewers, and employees. Other than the initial delay, ( played off as set problems to the majority of the company) the ad released without so much as a pixel out of place. 

And so Asagiri Gen’s career advanced. He was an impeccable actor for his age. Playing children in a handful of movies, voicing a character once in a while. He liked the cameras, but he loved the stage. He found himself comfortable when performing, and felt good when he was in control of the audience. It was not a surprise to those around him when he found his niche in magic as he grew older. 

Being told by his mother–bless her aching heart– that for his whole life, he would be at the mercy of anyone who passed him on the street was more than likely a key reason for that. Standing above the crowd, glowering down at them and realizing he had the upper hand, the ability to catch them off guard, was delicious. And for someone craving the upper hand since before his memories were even clear, he was starving . 

On his own set, he knew the plans. He knew the guests, the questions, the stunts, and the tricks. He had complete control over all of it. He could pretend guests had to be interrogated and investigated before being let within twenty feet of him because he was just that important. 

Not because any one person could eat him alive. 

But, of course, that fleeting power he felt on stage was only temporary. And when he saw the faintest glow of green passing through his studio, the members of his audience freezing before his knelt form, their skin becoming gray and hardened, he was once again powerless. 

 

.--- ..- ... - / --- -. . / - .- ... - .

 

Ishigami Senku was a boy barely out of puberty when he decided he’d dedicate his life to being an experiment. 

Ever since he was a child, he’d loved science. Everyone around him knew it and he made no secret of it. Most of his peers were intimidated by him, his teachers felt out of their league. Senku was blunt and cutthroat, and because of these reasons most people were drawn away from him, save for two people, Taiju and Yuzuriha, who had no issues helping him with building things or offering themselves (within reason) to be a part of his tests. 

His father, however, couldn’t be more proud of his son. He’d done ridiculously stupid things to support his child and his interest. He’d sold his car and many of his own things to buy him expensive equipment, and how could Senku let all those materials go to waste? That would simply be illogical. 

He grew older, and with him, his passion. He’d made a rocket that tasted the edge of space, and he knew even when he reached the cosmos himself, he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

Though, near the end of middle school, he’d been partially distracted. He noticed how food began to have this bitter, ashy aftertaste. He wasn’t an idiot. Far from it. He knew exactly what it meant and the consequences that would follow. Almost nobody noticed him staving off food, except Yuzuriha, and of course, Byakuya. Yuzuriha had always packed lunches for herself, Senku, and Taiju when they made plans to help the young scientist with his projects in the park. It was bound to happen that she would notice he wasn’t eating these lunches. When she pressed him about it, Senku would just smirk and pick at his ear, grinning as he made a choice comment about her cooking abilities. He’d walk away with a bandage on his forehead and a sandwich sitting sourly in his mouth. 

Byakuya was different, approaching the situation more seriously with the concern of a father for his growing boy. It was becoming increasingly obvious to the people around him he ate out of necessity, not enjoyment. He figured his father would have eventually connected the dots, but perhaps he was willfully blind, because he didn’t want to see his son as a monster. Coming to terms with an eating disorder was probably easier to palate than labeling your teenager as a fork. 

So when his father finished stumbling through a monologue about how worried he was, Senku shut his book and made a choice. “Then let's get ramen, Byakuya.” It was probably a good idea to share his favorite meal with his father one more time before any semblance of satisfaction he could squeeze from food was gone forever. 

Seeing Byakuya smile over his piping hot bowl, scarfing it down like it was the first meal he’d had in years, Senku made a second choice. He wouldn’t become that person society was bent on him becoming. He would be no monster, and he would bring nobody harm. That wasn’t his purpose on earth, and he wouldn’t let the fact he was a fork ruin his plans. He’d make it to space and nothing would ever change that. He’d advance science, and live up to the legacies of all the men before him. He wasn’t here to eat. He was here to become someone even the bounds of the universe would struggle to hold. 

The chances of even coming across a cake were slim to none, anyway. The mutation of both fork and cake was so rare, each one could live a lifetime without passing another on the street. Besides, how hard was it for a fork to resist biological urges, like eating a cake? Had it been done before? Was it possible? He’d find out. In the name of science.

So, he’d never eat a cake. And no one would know he was a fork. That was imperative. 

 

It was easier to eat after he’d made that choice. Food was necessary, nothing more. He’d gotten used to controlling facial expressions, and eating in front of others. Next to nothing had changed. He was as devoted as ever to science, and spent hours upon hours in his school lab during free periods. He’d even managed to make acquaintances with his peers in the science club. Though he’d never call them his friends. He was set in that department with just Yuzuriha and Taiju, the latter of which just burst through the door.

He told Senku he was going to confess his feelings for Yuzuriha. Senku smirked and offered him a love potion. Taiju refused, pouring the mixture down the sink before sprinting down to the Camphor tree to a waiting Yuzuriha. Senku watched their interaction with a smile, confident Taiju’s feelings would be reciprocated. The scientist's crimson eyes flicked up to the green glow spreading across the horizon. 

And he was petrified. 

 

.. ... / - --- --- / -- ..- -.-. .... / ..-. --- .-. / -- .

Chapter 2: My Skin is too Heavy a Weight to Bear

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who gave the first chapter so much love!!! I didn't expect it at all lol, I'm super thankful for the positive feedback!! Enjoy this chapter!!

Ishigami Senku broke free from his stone prison on April 1st, 5738. Thirty-seven hundred years later. 

It was hell. He woke up in spring, sure, but he was a scrawny high school kid who never had much outdoorsy survival experience. No, he wasn't any kind of boy scout. It took quite literally everything, his all, to barely be able to ignore the churning hunger and constant exhaustion he felt. It was especially frustrating when he already hated eating. Balancing his survival and trying to study everything related to the petrification around him, its rules, its characteristics, and how to overcome it, while trying everything he could think of to wake Taiju up was a hell of an achievement, and he rarely pat himself on the back for those things.

Hard as it was though, he did have a lot of fun. The process of learning everything from nothing, while incredibly slow, gave him satisfaction like no other. A fragment of his previous world was still here, in his every successful experiment. 

And he could never let all of humanity be wiped out. That helped him push through, too. 

Taiju’s revival made things exponentially easier. His strength and energy was boundless and it finally gave Senku time to work on the things he was good at. Science.

In the whole grand scheme of everything, a year was truly nothing. But every failed experiment made him more desperate, more frustrated. He spent countless nights hovering over the math equations in the lab, brainstorming where he could have gone wrong. He knew it was part of the process, and everyone before him had been incorrect at least once before, but god, did being wrong make him feel like an idiot. 

Still, it only took him one year, and it was done. 

Then, in a moment of desperation, when ensuring his, and his friends survival, he made what was the worst mistake of his life. Reviving Shishio Tsukasa. 

Still better than getting mauled to death by lions, though. Humans have at least a chance of being reasoned with. 

Now he’s doing his best to win over a village of primitives to help him win back the captured miracle cave so he can get back on track. And he’d win them over with the power of science. Easy. 

“There’s really no practical use for it,” Senku said to Kinro, whose eyes were practically bulging with awe at the golden spear Senku’d just made with ‘sorcery.’ “But a golden spear sure looks cool, right? Your name already means gold. It suits you.” 

Kinro’s eyes sharpen, and his chest expands as he takes a quick breath in and glares. “Your magical bribery won’t work on me.” He spat. Ginro, his brother, was looking from his position guarding the bridge, shaking with envy. Kinro turned away, voice wavering just slightly; "I do think I’ll keep this one, though.”
Ginro propositioned for a silver spear. 

He was ignored.

Chome celebrated, giving Senku a high five. They’d gotten Kinro to bend the rules. That was worth something. 

Senku chuckled and stuck his finger in his ear, an evil grin on his face. “Trust me, he just needs a little more, but we have him.” 

Chrome. Senku can tell this kid will be something. Invaluable to the cause. Someone who will end up dead if they don't finish this and win. Which is why when they both head to the science shed that night, when Chrome tells him all about the reason why he does what he does, why he practices ‘sorcery,’ for Ruri, Senku tells him everything. 

He tells him about the technology of his time. Airplanes, computers, lost research, forgotten history, what civilization built up to over millions of years. His passion, his truth, his reason for living. 

At first, he's confused why Chrome’s first response is tears. But that fire in him, that passion, he knows it’s exactly what already burns within himself, and every other scientist before them. It was only natural to be upset. Pissed, even. He felt that way himself sometimes. 

The more they chatted that night, though, the more he realized his preconceived assumptions about science may be outdated. With each passing mistake, he felt like he was less and less cut out to be humanity's savior. He felt like professionals would have laughed him out of the scenario, should they have been there. But still, he had to swallow his pride and move on, because he was the only one right now who could do it. 

He’d rebuild it all with Chrome by his side. 

Starting with Ruri. 

 

“I don’t understand why you two are just relaxing while I’m doing all this work!” Kohaku shouted, throwing her magnet at the boys. Senku grunts and ducks, while Chrome catches it. “We have no manpower anyway! And this is how you're planning to cure my sister? With black sand from the river?” She spat. 

Here they were, wading shin deep in an extremely rocky river, looking for iron. Thank god Chrome had magnets, but god Senku wished there was a more efficient way to collect the stuff as of now.

Senku groaned, lowering himself once again. He put his magnet in the water, hovering it over the bottom of the stream. 

“Look, I don’t get it either, but he says this will help Ruri. He beat me, so that has to be worth something, right?” Chrome piped in. “Besides, it's not our fault you have unlimited energy. You gorilla.” 

Kohaku smacks Chrome upside the head and Senku pulls his magnet from the water. 

“Our iron sand is crucial. We’re gonna need it for even stronger magnets.” 

“So we’re using magnets to make…bigger magnets?” Chrome asked.

“Bigger, yes. But like I said, the important part is their strength. These ones we are using now are too weak in the long run.” 

“What’s our ‘long run’?” Kohaku interjected, putting more iron in her pouch.

“I’m not gonna get into that now.” Senku said. “It'll be easier to just show you when we get there. What's that?”

Chrome and Kohaku look downstream, at the watermelon rind slowly approaching them. Senku raises an eyebrow, and Chrome cocks his head to the side. They both jump when a girl’s torso and legs pop up from the water, wearing the watermelon rind on her head.

“Oh, it’s just Suika.” Kohaku wades towards the girl, who sheepishly presents Chrome's stolen magnet. 

“Her name is Suika? Doesn’t that mean watermelon?” Senku whispers

Chrome leans in with an answer. “It '’’s not her real name, just a nickname.” 

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to be useful. It’s hard for me to help around the village because I wear this. I want to help, though. I can.”

Senku takes a look at the magnet, and it clicks. It would probably be easier for someone child sized to do this part of the job. She could get closer to the ground, and probably hurt less, as well as utilize her energy better. He accepts her help without question. They need hands, badly. If they’re gonna save Ruri, save humanity , if they’re gonna win, he’ll take every single pair he can get.

Though, it’s still nearly impossible to get a muscle powered oven to get hot enough to melt iron sand with just four people. They proved that when they all nearly keeled over after hours of pumping, and the iron was still sand. 

Senku was frustrated. Their lack of manpower was painfully obvious and he needed to get hands on deck. Suika was quick to offer herself up to the cause, as she had amazing camouflage abilities and could sneak around with nobody getting suspicious of her movements.

Suika gives Senku the idea to start a food truck. 

Good thing there's foxtail millet around. 

 

It takes them a few days, but they’ve perfected their ramen recipe. As Suika plays her whistle to alert the town, Senku pushes the cart. His mind is elsewhere though. His last meal before losing his taste completely, was ramen with his father. 

Where was Byakuya? He was in space when the petrification happened. What had that meant for him? Was he petrified anyway? Did he come back, only to be petrified as well? Or was he rock, and floating 370,000 kilometers above him right now? In orbit?

He tried to shake the thought from his mind and focus on serving the villagers. They were in awe, but he wasn't truly present, though he’d answer a question with pride when asked about it. 

When everything finally calmed down, he grabbed a bowl for himself. 

It tasted like everything else did. But the texture was where the comfort found him now. Though, unfortunately, foxtail millet couldn’t fulfill that for him. It was nothing like a classic bowl of ramen from his time. 

He’d simply have to wait. 

A laugh cuts through his thoughts.

“God, this really hits the spot. You know, I really wish I had a Cola right about now.”

Senku’s head whipped around to face the unfamiliar voice. 

Cola?

Senku was then choked with the smell of a tooth rottingly sweet strawberry shortcake. His stomach twisted.

Hunger.

 

.. .----. -.. / .-. .- - .... . .-. / ... - .- .-. ...- .

 

Feeling the sharp stone fragments crack and fall was like shedding a coat one had worn for too long. The cool air hit Gen’s skin and he fought the urge to hiss at how unnatural it felt. How long had he been deprived of such senses? He looked out over the cliff where he had been perched, and marveled at the sea. The sight of glistening water, blue and shining under the guise of the sun, outstretched for countless kilometers. 

That certainly hadn’t been there before. 

In his disbelief. he mumbled about pranks. About the pointed words he would need to have with his manager as he moved to pull himself up straight. 

“Welcome to the year 5739 A.D.” A deep voice rumbled through his bones, condescending and undoubtedly powerful. Gen’s head whirled back, his eyes landing on a familiar towering figure. “Thirty-seven hundred years have passed. Though, you’re still only nineteen.” 

Gen’s vision narrowed, zeroing in on the man. “You’re Shishio Tsukasa. We worked together.” His gaze swept from the man in front of  him to those who stood beside him. They were all muscley, most towered over him, and Gen was not a short man. Behind them, he saw the heap of statues that loomed like a mountain.

“Your skills are invaluable, Gen.” His former coworker said, voice soft. “Once you’re done changing…” He nodded his head towards a girl, who walked forward holding folded clothes. Her irises were doe-like and brown, hair cut short. The job looked rushed. She held the clothes out towards him, which he hesitantly took, focus locked on the taller man, calculating. “walk with me.”

 

Gen took his sweet time. His mind was racing. What had Tsukasa said? Thirty-seven hundred years?  Has it really been that long?

He’d found a small secluded place by the river to change, but all he could do was stare into his reflection. His hair dye was gone, that sleek white returning after years of being covered. His white hair hung down, falling along his jawline as he gazed into the image. There was a black crack tracing from below his eye, jutting out near his cheekbone in the shape of a smile before it straightened out again. It slipped down his chin and neck, down his torso. He’d noticed similar marks on those who were around him when he woke up, so it was almost definitely a byproduct of petrification. 

His scar was gone. 

Gen placed his fingers on the column of his throat, expecting to feel the texture of healed tissue under his fingertips, but he didn’t. It was smooth and perfect. Like unmarred skin should be. It was exactly how he’d imagined it looking in the mirror growing up. 

It was almost like he could still see it. It was definitely gone, but he could picture every square centimeter of that sprawling mutilation like it was still there. 

Gen shook his head and put on the clothes given to him. A yukata with an obi for around 

He made his way back to Tsukasa, his walk leisurely and unhurried hands hidden in his sleeves. 

The taller man leaned back against a nearby tree, arms crossed over his broad torso. His eyes were closed, as if he was in deep thought. Gen looked intently on those two black lines that stretched across his face. The performer hadn’t said a word, but Tsukasa looked up at him anyway. “You’re back. Good. I have something to show you.”

He followed him without much objection. Tsukasa led him through the trees, his stride confident and large. His voice was kind and gentle, but Gen knew better. He was wary with every step the huge man took. “Like I said before, I revived you because your skills will be useful. Your experience as a mentalist is perfect for the mission I need completed. I truly believe there is no other fit than you.”

Flowery flattery . Still, the magician listened. He wasn’t sure whether to trust Tsukasa, but he was the only one in this world he knew, even if their interactions were brief. If he didn’t comply, that would make an enemy out of him. He knew he wouldn’t have much chance of surviving for long on his own. Especially against Japan’s Strongest Primate Highschooler.

Tsukasa led them to a clearing, in which stood a treehouse that looked as if it had seen better days. Off to the side, a small hut with a sign above the entrance; Laboratory .

He led Gen through the scene, broken pottery and faded footprints littering the ground. It was a mess. No doubt a staged mess, everything was too perfectly arranged, but a mess nonetheless.

“I need you to use your skills as a mentalist to get into their heads. Now, I may be paranoid, but I need you to find traces of Senku. See if he’s truly dead, or if he just ran off somewhere.” 

“Who is Senku?” Gen inquired. Finally looking away from the clutter of. He noticed the man’s lips twitch into a frown, his eyebrows pulling together.

“He was the first of us to revive. Determined enough to develop the key to humanities revival. He was the most intelligent man alive.” Tsukasa took a breath. “However, he didn’t care about who was being revived. He only wanted to wake everyone up, no matter who they were or what they had done. It would make this pure stone world corrupt once again.”

He opened his eyes, a fire behind them that bordered on terrifying. “So I killed him with my own hands.”

Tsukasa led Gen back, intent on showing him the cave where the ‘miracle fluid’ was produced. He was clearly trying to make an ally of him. What choice did Gen have, though? Not to follow and cooperate with the extremely dangerous man? Then what? Die?

Tsukasa’s hypocrisy was not lost on the magician. Yet, he’d listen. According to Tsukasa, the scientist should be dead anyway. Best not make any irrational decisions before properly assessing the situation, of course. 

But as the bodybuilder led him back, Gen watched him like a hawk. His long hair swayed with each step, head trained on what was in front of him. The actor was acutely aware of the way his head jerked at the slightest crinkle of a leaf out of place. He’d never seen someone so alert. It made his teeth clench with frustration he couldn’t place. 

He paused when he saw the man's head fully turn as they approached the entrance of the supposed cave, just landing on the trunk of a skinny tree, before straightening out again. 

Gen’s eyes followed where Tsukasa’s went. They narrowed as they landed on a carving in the bark. He couldn’t help but approach, his hand reaching out to brush along the engraving.  

April 1st, 5738. 

Gen let out a breath of surprise, mouth agape in disbelief. What the Hell? His fingers traced the messy lines. The writing was rushed, made with something barely sharp enough to hack away the wood. This had to have been from that man.

Senku.  

Was this from when he’d woken up? How had he known what day it was? No way he’d counted. Not unless he was insane. Still, as he read and reread that fateful date, he felt his chest tighten with something he could only pinpoint as overwhelming admiration. Had he really…the entire time? 

Well, shit. 

Gen removed his hand, tucked it back in his sleeve and hoped, truly hoped, that Senku was dead. For his own sake. It would make things a hell of a lot easier. 

“Gen.” The beckoning voice of his erstwhile guest-star forced him out of his thoughts. When he turned to look, the man was glaring him down, a clear warning in his irises. 

The shorter man let out a laugh, shrugged his shoulders, and summoned a cheshire grin, tossing one more disinterested look to the writing before turning away and waltzing back to tsukasa’s side. 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming."  

 

Soon, as tsukasa was making moves to establish control over the ruins of the Roppongi hills, Gen was off. Armed with nothing more than fake blood bags tied to his torso and his own mind. The journey was a bother. The trail he walked felt like it could have been hundreds of thousands of kilometers. Though Gen, alone with his own thoughts for the first time since his revival, could finally take time to process everything. 

The story was, thirty-seven hundred years had passed. Humanity was wiped out in a flash of green light that turned everyone into stone. And some ingenious fool had remained conscious the entire time, counting the seconds to keep track of the year. He woke up. Exposed his friend to nitric acid over a long period of time, leading to Taiju’s awakening as well. They made a revival potion. Woke up Tsukasa. Woke up Yuzuriha. Senku died by Tsukasa’s hands. Taiju and Yuzuriha surrender, joining Tsukasa to help his ideal world come to life. Senku is no more.

Supposedly. Now, it was up to Gen to confirm that fact, or he could very well be next. The mentalist huffed, bending down to drink from a small stream. He had just passed Kamakura, where he found fresh dents in the still-standing buddha statue. Seeing the landmark had somehow made it all feel real. He’d seen the thing many times. It used to be maintained and pristine. That felt like just a few years ago. But now rubble surrounded the looming figure, its surface once glistening with polish now scratched and dull. 

Once the water hit the back of his throat, he hummed in satisfaction, his thirst gradually melting away.  He dragged his cold, wet hands along his cheeks, looking at himself once again in the reflection. 

He could start over. The chances of his natural opposite lurking among the current revived was practically zero. Perhaps he could live his life out normally, then. Perhaps by the time one of them is revived, he will be long gone, and he can enjoy the life he has always wanted to live. He will be at nobody's mercy. The control will be in his hands, not just a simple illusion. He will truly be normal.

The thought made Gen’s heart sing with pride. The performer looked at himself in the reflection again, finding only himself grinning back at him. He once again traced his new scar, black and unyielding on his porcelain skin. This was the one he got when he was freed from stone. In this world, could it count as his rebirth? 

As he progressed, he couldn’t help his thoughts from drifting. The life he’d have in a world free of any pressure to keep secrets and maintain his image. Should he return to the tsukasa empire, fruitful in his investigative findings, the life he would live was sure to be no less than comfortable. Easy. He could find a hot girl for tsukasa to revive, or three. He could perform for people again. Then he’d maybe have kids, and die happy at an unremarkable age, not too old and not too young. He could certainly live with that. He continued on, humming old songs as he weaved through the trees and thanked the world for the second chance. 

A day into his mission, passing Hakone, his fantasy began to shatter. Gen found evidence that suggested there had been a split. Displaced pebbles in the ground, and discolored dirt, disturbed from its resting place. Each clue moving in opposite directions. Both Taiju and yuzuriha had returned to Tsukasa. There shouldn’t be an extra trail to follow. 

The realization that there certainly was one made his eye twitch. He was just getting comfortable with the idea of a luxurious existence. Of course things had to get complicated.

It took him until the sun was at its zenith for the scent to reach his nose. It was almost painfully nostalgic. His stomach twisted with a sickening hunger. For nearly two weeks now under Tsukasa’s roof, he’d eaten almost nothing but purely salted meats and pickled vegetables. But the aroma of late nights and full bellies and satisfaction that hung on the wind like a taunt was the most tempting thing for someone already ravenous. 

Next came the whistle. It was inviting, daring anyone to come and check out what was being offered. It was reminiscent of a festival chime, letting patrons know of a new attraction or show beginning to start. Gathering attention. He should have known better than to pack only a few snacks to nibble on. 

Gen rushed to the source, stumbling over rogue tree roots and rocks before breaking out of the lush to be greeted with a sight that made him gasp out loud. 

A village on the water. Two islands, connected to each other and the land by crude, primitive suspension bridges. Huts scattered on the larger island, roofs of straw and cloth that could have only been crafted by hand and had to be regularly repaired and maintained. On the further island, something that looked like an area, being loomed over by some sort of makeshift temple. 

The sea breeze whipped at his hair, and he took a deep breath. He could already taste the salt in the air around him. How was this possible? A whole village of living humans? How did–

Gen felt a yank on his overcoat. “Here you go, sir!” A little girl at his feet shoved a bowl into his hands. It was warm, the stone carved with intricate little designs to mimic what a ramen bowl would have had. He looked down, and his eyebrows raised up in surprise. She wore a watermelon rind right on her head, little circles cut out where her eyes would fit. The Magician, caught off guard, opened his mouth to say something coherent but only a confused noise escaped him instead. 

“Um…Wha…” 

“Oh, have you already had one? Oh, no! I’ve already lost track!” The child at his side seemed to squirm nervously, shifting her weight between her feet before bolting off to hand out some more servings of the piping hot meal, leaving him with panicked words. “J–Just enjoy your food, mister!”

Gen blinked, eyebrows furrowing. In his bowl sat a serving of classic ramen, topped with a fried egg, parsley, and a variety of meat. The noodles held a suspicious green hue. But this was that same unmistakable scent that led him here. He took in his surroundings, watching the array of people each gawk and coo about the culinary mystery that sat in their hands. These people had never had ramen before.

Who made it for them, then?

He looked towards where the village people seemed to closely gather. There was a cart, smoke billowing from a large pot on the side of it, heated by small tiny burners close to the wood fastened wheels. A man was running the cart, his actions confident as he made each order of ramen for every villager, showing off in front of their very eyes. He even strained their noodles in a way that looked impressive. Or, could have, to a village of primitives. 

The chef had tall hair, cream colored with ends that looked as if they’d been dipped in acid. He wore a thick leather tunic draped over thin shoulders and a slender waist. On his collar, he could see a dark outline of the equation for…what was it? Mass-Energy equivalence? 

This was a modern man.

This modern man had to be Senku. 

A smile spread across the liar’s face, and he sighed. How complicated. He toyed with the chopsticks in his bowl, and finally lifted the ramen to his lips for a taste. 

It was disgusting. 

It’s showtime. 

- .... .- -. / .-. ..- .. -. / -.-- --- ..- / . ...- . -. / --- -. -.-. .

Notes:

I was so locked in my wrist was killing me i have like a carpel tunnel thing but I wrote this with a brace I was so excited to get this out. This is my birthday gift to myself. You get cakeverse you lovely Samaritan. Have a wonderful day!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!!

Chapter 3: The Devil and His Temptations

Notes:

The last two got so much love, I'm truly amazed! Thank you all for the birthday wishes and I really wanted to reply to all of you, but I also don't want to dilute the comments and half of them to just be me, lol. Thank you all so much for the support though yall!! Every hit means the world to me, truly. Enjoy!

Senku’s blood froze in his veins. The man was dressed in a lavender overcoat with a yukata and an obi tied around his waist. He had a scar running down from his left eye, jutting out by the corners of his mouth like a cliff’s edge. His hair was two colors, white and black, one half cut short and the other brushing against his jaw. His stomach churned and ached at just the stranger’s scent. He smelled so good .

Senku didn’t know him, but he knew of him. 

Asagiri Gen. 

Before he could say a word to the man, Kohaku had already gathered her meatheads and had him surrounded. The con-man made no moves. He stayed hunched over his bowl of ramen, and acted as if he had expected such a greeting. He probably did. “Do you know this person?” Kohaku asked, voice tight as her grip on the daggers.

The scientist’s jaw clenched, head swimming in instinct, for the chance hanging in front of him, dangling like a piece of meat taunting a lion. He took a deep breath, and balled his hands into fists. 

“Not in the slightest.” He replied flatly. One of Japan’s most known frauds was a cake. There had to be irony there somewhere. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. What are the chances?

“Are you with the long-haired man?” Kohaku spat. Kinro and Ginro flanked Gen’s routes of escape. The brothers exchanged confused looks, but held firm. They knew next to nothing, and that made this all the more dangerous. But they were caught off guard when the stranger laughed. 

“You must be mistaken, dear. I’ve not met any long haired man,” Gen passed a pointed look to Senku. He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “I’ve simply been an aimless wanderer since breaking free from the stone. And I simply couldn’t resist such a nostalgic smell.” 

Senku let his eyes fall closed and took a deep breath in. A rich vanilla, a whipped cream, tinted with fruity undertones and powdered sugar. The guy smelled like a damn bakery. Senku wasn’t even a sweets person before he lost his taste, really. He’d indulge occasionally but it wasn’t his favorite. Nonetheless, the aroma made him salivate, and his body ached for just a bite.

An urge he would not let himself satisfy. 

The scientist calmed himself with a breath, deeply annoyed. “You’re Asagiri Gen, right?”

Gen blinked, eyebrows shooting up as a glimmer of genuine surprise passed over his features, but it was wiped away by that infamous grin. 

“So you do know him?” Kohaku piped in quickly, holding the knives closer to their uninvited guest, who shimmied further away from the blade.

“No. I’ve never met him personally. But he was a trashy magician who wrote baseless psychology books. Astrology, star charts, all that B.S. Total fraud.” 

Gen’s lips pursed. “I prefer ‘Mentalist’ to magician. And I’m truly honored you know of my work! I’m flattered, really, but there’s no need to throw around such negative opinions.” he turned to Kohaku, and summoned tremors to his body. “I’m sorry I took a bowl…but you know how hunger is! Knocking on your door, and all. So could you be a dear and lower your weapons? You know, my time all alone in the wilderness has been very hard…” 

He launches into a monologue of fluffy excuses. Senku can practically see the gears in Kohaku’s head turn as she stares their possible new foe into the ground. Senku isn’t much different though, mind constantly whirring. Senku was ten billion percent positive that Gen was revived by Tsukasa to see if he was truly alive. Damn, he was paranoid. But he had to hand it to him, his murderer was thorough. 

But it had to be…

Senku squeezed the bridge of his nose. They needed manpower. That was essential. In the end, it didn’t matter who was on their team. To win this, they needed an insane amount of people, and the Kingdom of Science was nowhere close to that yet. Every working body counted. 

As irritating as this is, Gen’s presence may very likely prove vital to his ongoing experiment. If a fork never crosses the path of a cake, what does that really show about restraint when there's no opportunity for instinct to kick into overdrive? He was annoyed. This was a major inconvenience. But that beautiful part of his brain was screaming at him. He was excited. 

“I’ll take your word for it, Gen. But that lunch of yours wasn’t free.”

 

Senku had Gen help some of the other villagers who ate the ramen pump the furnace. Perhaps he worked him a little harder than needed. But the man was a spy, and Senku was interested in how he’d keep up appearances. 

“Hey, Gen,” Senku approached the mentalist as he worked, pinky in his ear. He was a safe distance away, so as not to get overwhelmed by the scent of sickly sweet strawberries. The scientist watched his slim shoulders quake, mildly interested. Gen wasn’t horrible to look at. His hair was bicolored and well kept. His face was pleasantly round, eyes sharp and piercingly blue. His clothes were modest and were visibly crafted with skilled hands. Still, he could tell Gen was slim under all the fabric. Senku couldn’t tell if it was him noticing all of that, (because he hardly ever did) or a side effect of the ridiculous amounts of endorphins in his system. “How’re Taiju and Yuzuriha doing?”

Gen huffed, his movements slowed and he took a deep breath of air. “Oh. Really? That’s how you wanna play this? Trying to wear down a renowned mentalist through labor. That’s cruel.” The short haired man shook his head and dropped his arms. “They’re both thriving, it seems. Taiju is as strong as can be, and Yuzuriha is helping make clothes for our people. But you knew that already, right, Senku?”

The intruder turned to face him, and the smell of dessert was pungent in the air. It practically punched him in the face. God, he smelled insane. Should a cake smell this strong? It was hard to control his facial expressions. He fought the urge to cover his nose. 

It was not a bad smell by any means. It was quite the opposite. But it was overwhelming. And maybe that was just because Senku had become used to everything smelling like nothing. Maybe this was increased hypersensitivity, since he had been deprived of stimuli related to those functions for going on five years now. If you didn’t count the millenia in between that.

It was definitely something to be further researched later. He had to focus on the bigger picture here. 

He never told Gen his name. 

Kohaku had been watching him like a hawk, and was eager to kill the spy at Senku’s word. “Gen, it’s ridiculously obvious you’re working with Tsukasa and his empire. So why’d you give it up so easily, then?” The liar shrugged, that ever present mask of a smile etched onto his face. 

“Contrary to what you believe, Senku, I didn’t actually want to be put square in the middle of a war when I woke from my long nap. I don’t care who wins, whether it's you or Tsukasa, I’ll be with the victors. Is survival such a horrible thing to thirst for?” He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “But…Still. As impressed as I am with what you have going on right now, hard work is not where I thrive.” He tapped his chin in thought, taunting. 

“Yeah? I think you’d thrive in the ground like the slippery little worm you are.” Kohaku threatened. She made sure Gen could see the blades in her hands. 

“So violent!”

“No. Tsukasa will come looking for him if he doesn’t give his report and reassure him I'm surely burning in hell.” Senku replied, finger pressed against his temple. “But…I’m not too worried about it. After all, once you see what I’ve got planned, modern man, you’ll realize our Kingdom of Science is the obvious choice.” 

“Yeah? Gonna play chemical warfare?” Gen teased. “You know, if I told Tsukasa you were still alive, I’d guarantee myself a place among the heroes of his empire of strength. I could use that power to revive some cute girls, and what do you know? I’m living in Stone World luxury! It’ll take more than some swords–” He cocked his head to the oven, where they’d been trying so hard to melt the iron. The team had already managed to make a few bars of it, miraculously.“–to sway me.”

Senku raised his eyebrow, smug. “Yeah? How about a generator?”

He could see Gen’s surprise this time. His eyebrows shot up and the corners of his lips wobbled. As Senku followed Chrome up the ladder to the Science Shed, Gen was still processing the information given to him, looking up at the gray sky before shouting back to him. “Y–You can’t really do that, can you?!”

In the shed, Senku quickly fashioned stealthy nose plugs. Chrome followed up behind him and crawled in, brows furrowing as he saw Senku shoving leaves into his sinuses. “Um, what are you doing?”

“Allergies. You have native copper?” Senku asked, looking over the pot filled with shining bronze. The young intellectual smiled triumphantly. “Your collection’s full of essential minerals. It’s like you knew I was coming.”

“I didn’t. But those rocks are too pretty to destroy.” 

“Now we need to melt a shit ton of this stuff down into wire.”

“You’re not even listening to me.” 

“Then, once that's all done, we’re just going to need lightning.”

Chrome tilted his head and looked outside. The sky was dark and spotty, with gentle flashes of light pulsing in the clouds approaching from a few kilometers away. The soft tapping of rain had begun to descend on the hut and the village. “Look’s like there’s some coming this way right now. Thank the rainy season, right?”

Senku’s head whipped to the entrance. Sure enough, a storm. “Shit!” He scrambled and lifted a heap of copper out of the pot. He tried not to fall off the ladder as he made his way down, stumbling as he ran to the oven. “Shit, shit shit shit.”

“Didn’t you say we needed lightning?” Suika asked curiously. She gazed up at the sky, peering through her mask in awe as she witnessed the unrelenting onslaught. 

“Yes, but we aren’t prepared for it right now!” Senku shouted. “I need hands, melt the copper!” 

Gen stood on the sidelines, head inclined to the clouds. He looked smug, but in a way, cautiously intrigued. By this point he’d most likely come to terms with the fact he’d have to live the rest of his life as a caveman. On straw beds with plain food and raggedy clothes, vulnerable to disease and mother nature more than ever. “Your generator is going to run on lightning?”

Senku would prove that he didn’t have to live like that. 

“Not the generator. I’m making magnets. For the generator.”
“Right, with lightning.”

Senku chuckled. “Now you’re getting it.” He approached the bridge linking the cliffside with the village, and tore off a wooden plank, much to Ginro’s dismay . “Kohaku, I need you to carve a serpent channel into this, okay?”

She did as she was told and took the board, giving their guest a look as she carved that suggested she had no problem doing the same thing to him, should he step out of line. 

Suika, though, started to panic. She ran towards Senku, arms outstretched and flailing. 

“Magma is on his way towards us! And he looks super mad!”

Senku swallowed hard. Over a wooden plank? Damn. 

“Oh, that just won't do,” Gen mused, and flipped his hair in annoyance. “I refuse to die because of you people. Suika, darling, could you be a dear and get me some flowers?”

The little girl inquired as to why. The magician just smiled knowingly. 

“Instead of war, flowers.”

 

Senku and the others watched Gen approach Magma and his men, with nothing but pure confidence, holding out pure white daisy’s like he was offering them as an olive branch. Everyone was tense, but Senku could not deny the fascination that spiked within him at the scene. They towered over Gen (not counting the tiny one, they brought for some reason). They were big walls of muscle compared to his lithe body, the difference was so stark it was almost jarring. 

Nobody could miss Magma’s voice, booming against the storm; “You the Sorcerer bent on destroying our village? Gotta hand it to you, you’re ballsy standin’ up to me like this.” Magma cupped his fist into his hand, cracking his knuckles. “But I’ll make sure your brains are pummeled into the ground.”
Gen shook his head, and when he spoke his tone was nothing short of calm and sugary. “No, sir, you see, we're doing our best out here to use our sorcery to calm our beloved gods.” Senku could see Gen playing with the daisies in his hands.  

“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit–”
“Allow me to show you,” Gen replied proudly, before the flowers in his hands bent back with one flick of his wrists, hidden from the sight of the aggravated Magma. He flaunted his empty hands to the assailants, daring them to move closer. 

Beside Senku, Kohaku only laughed in disbelief. “They really can’t see the flowers?”

Senku shook his head as the meatheads were scared off running. The primitives never seemed to practice sleight of hand, and for that he was glad. Both for the fact they wouldn’t show their faces anytime soon and interrupt crucial work. But he was also glad Gen didn’t get beaten to a pulp. Based on the way Gen smelled, Senku couldn’t imagine how he’d react to his blood and organs everywhere. He fought back a shiver of disgust at himself, and the twinge of excitement he bit down.
“Nope. It’s a trick called the back palm. They can’t see a thing.” The male paused. “He’s a total fraud, but I guess he knows a useful thing or two.”

They worked fast. The scientist felt all eyes on him, inquisitive looks being passed between his onlookers. Despite how fast he moved, he explained each step as he went through the motions. He was quite eager to get the rods finished before the storm ended. There was no telling how long it would take another opportunity to find them. Besides, now was as good a time as any to convince Gen to get on his side. Should he wait around with them for the next storm, Tsukasa would definitely notice. 

The only option was success.  

 

.-- .... --- / .- -- / .. /

 

They made it to the top of the ‘bald’ mountain Chrome had mentioned, and that description was ten billion percent accurate. The peak was clear of brush and life. It was smooth rock and definitely the perfect place to play catch with the lightning god. 

The group struggled as winds blew in from the north and east. Hair stuck to their foreheads and the humidity clung to their bodies. Clothes sodden with rain and their struggle. Gen, Kinro, and Ginro all watched from the sidelines. Though, the two brothers had hidden themselves behind a boulder, watching with horrified wonder. 

“There’s no way we can build real scaffolding in these conditions!” Chrome shouted over the howling gale. “There has to be a way we can get the rods high enough!”

Kohaku’s eyes desperately scanned the scene, taking in Gen’s soaked face, and eventually landing on Kinro, and his beloved golden spear Senku had made for him. 

“I’m so sorry about this, Kinro!”

Unfortunately for the man, the spears’ fate was sealed the second Kohaku had it in her sights. She descended like a hawk on an injured mouse. She took Kinro’s spear from him, and used her hair tie to bind both iron rods to the end before sticking the weapons’ head into the ground. 

Lightning struck mere seconds later, and the storm began to clear. Giving the Kingdom of Science a gift as the last ebbings of heaven's wrath moved forward towards the horizon. The copper was melted to the iron bars, and the lacquer gave the magnet a metallic shine. And Kinro’s spear was thoroughly dust. 

As Senku corrected Kohaku on how to use their new creation, he noticed Gen’s wide eyed stare. His lashes fluttered and Senku could have sworn his eyes almost glowed. “You…actually did it.” The taller one murmured. 

The Scientist just laughed and held out the magnets to the former. “You haven’t seen half of it.”

 

The next day flew by fast. Senku took the remainder of Chrome’s copper and directed everyone on how to build the generator. He had them melt down the rest of it and hammer the copper down, then they cut two disks, all while his own face ballooned up as he coated the wire they made in lacquer. 

Gen approached him not long after. 

“Alright. I’m tired of everybody ignoring it. I’m addressing the elephant in the room. Why on earth do you look like that?” He asked, holding his sleeves up to his mouth; he was snickering. 

Senku rolled his eyes. The sound of his laugh made his teeth ache. How the hell was that even possible? He fought the very intense urge to turn away and hold his nose. Though he could probably get away with it, based on how much his nose is running and his eyes are watering. 

“I’m allergic to lacquer."

Gen's eyes narrowed in confusion. “Then why are you the one doing that?” He pointed his nimble fingers to the bowl filled with the admitted allergen. 

“Everybody has their job to do.” Senku replied simply. 

Gen sighed and rolled up his sleeves, much to the latter's surprise. 

“Give it here, then.” 

By the time the sun kissed the ocean and the water reflected a deep orange, they were done. 

The generator was finished, and Senku’s name was carved in one of the two large copper plates. Senkus pinky was in his ear, and Suika was rejoicing in a job well done. 

“Well, they need to be spinning to generate electricity,” The scientist explained. “We need a perfectly synchronized pair. Otherwise it won’t work.” 

Kohaku put a finger to her lips. “Kinro and Ginro would be the perfect pair for the job, but I'm positive Kinro’s still pissed that I messed up his spear.”

 Gen hummed. “Kinro and Ginro? The guard boys at the bridge?”

Kohaku gave him an irritated look. “Yeah, what about them?”

He didn’t respond to her and only made his way towards the bridge to the village. They all passed around confused looks before Chrome shrugged his shoulders and followed him.

Much to Senku’s dismay, the brothers returned under the promise of electrocoated golden and silver spears. But in the end it hardly mattered. Kinro and Ginro were his to work now, and in reality he wasn’t the one who promised them the blinged-out weapons. That was their guest. He was under no obligation to adhere to a promise he didn’t make, so he wouldn’t. 

They watched the brothers work, and just as theorized, they were a perfectly in-sync pair. Senku had Chrome and Suika set up the cables needed for his big reveal. 

“You know, that’s all well and good, but are they really generating electricity right now?” Gen inquired, lips downturned in his skepticism. Senku only smiled as if he expected such questions and held out the key. 

“It’s a steam roasted bamboo fiber.”

Senku watched the surprise pass over Gen’s face and he felt triumph bloom in his chest. 

 

That night Senku brought light into the darkened stone world with a makeshift lightbulb and perhaps an unnecessary amount of ceremony. But he saw the way Chrome's eyes lit up with wonder, that same flame of passion for the unknown flickering to life within him as Senku whispered to him about humanity and what was lost. 

He could see it on Gen’s face too. The utter awe and recognition of a man who had perhaps lost any hope of seeing something familiar in a world that no longer welcomed them. He was a damn good liar, and even better at slipping on masks to save face, but Senku saw what was under the moment light bloomed in his hands and that mask slipped. 

Hope.  

Of course, the entertainer played it off. Still acting like he was juggling two equal choices in his head, still unsure. After a back and forth with Chrome, where he of  course insisted he was only looking out for himself, he went off on his own.

Senku let him. He knew what side the two faced liar was on. 

Kohaku, still cooling off from Gen’s blatant disrespect, offered to walk Suika to the fire, who was shivering in the hut. 

Once they were by themselves, Senku looked away from Chrome, debating whether or not he should truly ask the question burning his tongue.

“Chrome…” He began, for once uncertain. His eyebrows knitted together and he ran his palm along his mouth. “You’ve mentioned these Hundred Tales a lot…are there any stories about…ugh.” The words felt wrong to say out loud. Stupid and clunky as his vocal chords moved to say them. “Cakes? Or forks?”

Chrome’s eyebrow rose, and his face crinkled in thought. “Yeah, actually. Cakes are the harmless ones, if I remember correctly? I think we have a story or two about it. It's two types of a sickness, right? I don’t know. Forks are bad though, I do know that. They eat the cakes. Kinda messed up, hm?”

Senku opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Kohaku from below. “What was that noise?!”

They all followed her running through the dark, huffing out air recklessly from their lungs, until their eyes landed on Gen, drenched in his own blood, spear sticking through his stomach. 

Senku was punched in the face with that smell once again, more unbearable and stronger than ever. 

It was the best scent he’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing. 

He smelled almost painfully delectable.

 

.. ..-. / -. --- - / -.. . ...- --- ..- .-. . -..

Notes:

Heya! Sorry for the longer wait on this one. I'm trying to balance this and finishing up my summer reading before school truly starts again in full swing. fingers crossed junior year isn't as hellish as everyone says it is. This chapter was more the final part of the prologue kinda like how atla's journey really starts at episode 3 its like that, trust so I'm sorry if this one was boring, more torturing senku next chapter I promise. I hope you all had a great labor day! Or a great monday if you dont celebrate it <3

Notes:

I have not written in a while im sorry guys but let me know if you're interested, i might write more anyway. cakeverse is actually so interesting I wish there was more, yk? Thats part of why i wrote this, like I gotta get more cakeverse content out in the world fr