Chapter Text
The grand ballroom of one of the Nanami conglomerate’s many mansions glittered with light and music. Crystal chandeliers refracted soft gold into the crowd below, spilling across silk gowns, sharp suits, and the polished wood of the dance floor. A live jazz band occupied one corner, a string of brass notes carrying over the laughter, chatter, and occasional clink of champagne glasses.
Waiters moved swiftly, carrying trays of appetizers that looked like they belonged in glossy magazines rather than a post-petrification world. Everything screamed of Ryusui’s taste: decadent, over the top, entirely unnecessary, and therefore, in his words, absolutely essential.
Of course, the famous Ryusui Nanami needed no occasion to celebrate. The reason for tonight’s extravagance, if one could call it a reason, was simply that he felt like hosting. The world was steadily recovering, science and innovation had reawakened, and that was enough justification for him to throw open his gilded halls, order François to prepare every kind of delicacies, and invite half the notable names of the new age.
Senku Ishigami, on the other hand, had little interest in such social frivolities. For weeks he’d been buried neck-deep in the engineering nightmare that was the time machine project, and while the critical stage had finally stabilized, he hadn’t come here for revelry.
No, he had come because Gen and Ryusui had dragged him, and because François’s cocktails were precise chemistry in liquid form. He stood now at the far side of the room, close enough to the bar to grab a refill whenever needed, but far enough that he wouldn’t be accosted by drunken strangers asking him to “explain science.”
He leaned casually against the side of the polished bar, the faint amber light from bottles glinting behind François as they performed their work with mechanical precision. His glass was simple, as expected: some carbonated concoction they had created at his request. No alcohol, no frills. Just fizz and caffeine, fuel for a brain that refused to rest.
To his left lounged Gen, ever-smiling with his sly magician’s grace, swirling a cocktail with a lime wedge balanced neatly on the rim. To his right, Ryusui sat like he owned not just the chair but the air around it, golden hair catching the glow of chandeliers, a crimson jacket lined with velvet resting comfortably on his shoulders.
“Cheers to the new era of mankind!” Ryusui declared, raising his glass with that booming charisma that could have commanded a fleet, or a city. “Each day, another glorious victory, another indulgence well-earned. Tonight, we celebrate progress, fortune, and desire!”
Senku smirked into his glass. “Pretty sure you celebrate those three every night, Captain Greed.”
Ryusui only laughed, a rich, rolling sound that had half the room turning toward him for a fleeting second. “And would you have it any other way, Senku? If mankind does not strive for excess, what, pray tell, are we striving for?”
“Survival, for one.” Senku’s eyes glinted with a pragmatic sharpness. “Preferably survival without wasting half our resources on your fireworks budget.”
Gen’s laughter slid between them like silk. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, must we always draw swords of ideology? Let’s not forget the joy of the moment. François, if you could, another round for the table.” He tilted his head at Senku. “Or at least for those of us who drink something more spirited than soda water.”
François, ever expressionless, poured without missing a beat. “Your usual, Master Gen.”
Ryusui leaned in, his elbows resting lightly on the bar, gaze flickering over Senku with amusement. “Speaking of spirits, our dearest scientist, tell me. How is the time machine project progressing so far?”
For a moment, Senku’s mind flickered back to the endless nights, the schematics plastered across walls, the metallic scent of solder, the quiet hum of machinery evolving piece by piece. He set his glass down. “Stabilized. The hardest phases are behind us. We’ve got solid footing for the next stages.”
Gen whistled low. “So the great scientist finally has room to breathe. I was beginning to think we’d lost you entirely to the lab.”
Senku gave a dry shrug. “Science doesn’t pause because someone feels lonely. You either commit to the work, or you don’t bother.”
Ryusui’s grin sharpened, fox-like. “And yet, you did bother to show up tonight. Which tells me the winds are shifting.”
Senku’s lips twitched. “François threatened to drag me by the hair if I ignored another of your invitations. You can thank them for my attendance.”
François, polishing a glass, inclined their head ever so slightly. “Only half true. Though I imagine the pressure from other quarters played a role as well.”
“So…” Ryusui announced in his usual booming, dramatic tone. “Let us raise our glasses to the ever-forward march of civilization! And to my latest acquisition, the Eos II, a vessel that puts even our beloved Perseus to shame. Sleek, streamlined, solar-assisted engines and a hull polished to a mirror’s gleam. She is a goddess of the seas!”
Gen chuckled, eyes glittering with amusement. “Another boat, Ryusui? What are you planning, global domination through sheer fleet size?”
“World domination comes as a byproduct of ambition!” Ryusui laughed, tossing his blond hair back with a flourish. “Besides, ships are not merely vessels. They are freedom. The ability to command the waves and chart the unknown.”
“Mm…” Gen hummed, sipping his drink. “You really haven’t changed. Still chasing excess as if moderation were a disease.”
“Ha! Moderation is a disease.” Ryusui leaned closer, smirking. “You should try catching a bit of my extravagance, Gen. It might do wonders for your rather… subdued wardrobe.”
Gen spread his hands, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, minimalism is elegance. You can only dazzle with sequins and glitter for so long. The real showstopper is subtle charm.”
Senku snorted into his glass, finally joining the banter. “Coming from a guy planning a worldwide magic tour, that’s rich. Subtlety, huh? With your smoke bombs and card tricks?”
“Exactly!” Gen declared with mock pride. “Subtlety on the surface, spectacle beneath. Just as planned. Speaking of which…” He flicked his wrist, and a card appeared between his fingers. He set it on the bar, face down. “My North American tour is officially in the works. The age of science is upon us, but a little wonder and mystery will always sell.”
“Figures.” Senku tipped back his drink, amber liquid vanishing down his throat in one gulp. “Entertainment’s as much fuel for society as electricity. Keeps people sane.”
François slid another glass toward him without needing to be asked.
“Speaking of sanity.” Gen said, giving him a sly smile. “How has Kohaku taken your little... obsessive streak these past weeks? You’ve been holed up in that lab like a hermit crab on caffeine. Doesn’t exactly scream romantic devotion.”
Ryusui grinned, clearly delighted to prod. “Yes, yes, do tell, Senku! Surely the radiant warrior at your side has not been pleased to be abandoned for cold steel and equations.”
Senku didn’t flinch. He swirled his drink with practiced nonchalance, eyes half-lidded. “It wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for either of us.” He admitted bluntly. “But it was necessary. She knows that. We had a critical window in the build, and if we hadn’t locked it down, months of work would’ve gone down the drain. Now that it’s stable, we’ve got breathing room. Time.”
He lifted the glass to his lips again. “She understands the stakes better than most. Doesn’t mean it was easy. But she’s not the type to break over something like that.”
Gen tilted his head, intrigued. “You say that so casually, like you didn’t nearly drive her insane by shutting yourself away.”
Ryusui laughed again, sharp and loud. “Oh, he knows. He’s simply too stubborn to admit that his heart wavered at least once in those endless nights of calculations!”
“Heart, brain, same difference.” Senku replied drily. “Either way, we got through it. That’s what counts.” He let it pass with no more than a sip of his drink.
He wasn’t about to dissect his relationship on Ryusui’s marble countertop. François’s mouth quirked almost imperceptibly at the corner, as though amused by the scientist’s way of dodging sentiment with logic.
“And tell me this,” Gen pressed, eyes glinting. “Why, then, haven't you arrived together tonight? If everything is back to balance, wouldn’t this be the perfect opportunity for a grand entrance?”
Senku smirked, setting his glass down with a clink. “She’s with the girls. Dressing up, apparently. Nanami here insisted on lending them all something ridiculous from his endless collection of gowns. Figured I’d save myself the waiting time.”
“Ha!” Ryusui slammed his glass down in delight. “Nothing ridiculous about my taste! You’ll be thanking me once you lay eyes on her, I’m sure of it.”
“Right…” Senku replied, tone utterly flat but betraying the tiniest flicker of curiosity.
Ryusui spoke at length about his latest obsession with retro technology, old gaming consoles that had been unearthed and restored. He bragged about acquiring a still-functional handheld system and commissioning a team to adapt modern cartridges for it.
Gen teased him mercilessly, remarking that the great captain of the seas now wasted his time on pixelated creatures and 8-bit melodies. He then spoke of contracts and bookings, his magic show slated to tour across America, weaving illusions for audiences starved of wonder after centuries in stone.
Senku, leaning back against the polished counter, chimed in with his own dry commentary on global projects: the reconstruction of power grids across Europe, the new communication satellites reaching orbit, the slow but steady rise of a world reborn in steel and silicon.
It was mid-debate when three familiar figures approached.
“Senku!”
Taiju’s voice boomed before the man himself came into view, tall and broad as ever, waving with his uncontainable energy. Beside him, Yuzuriha smiled warmly, elegant in a soft evening dress of pale lavender she must have sewn herself. Tsukasa walked with measured grace behind them, broad-shouldered and calm, his dark hair tied back, his presence quiet but undeniable.
“Yo.” Senku greeted with his usual flat tone, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“Senku!” Taiju repeated, beaming, as though simply seeing him were the highlight of the night. “This place is incredible! Ryusui really knows how to throw a party!”
Ryusui spread his arms with a flourish. “But of course! Only the finest for the vanguard of humanity! Tonight, we drown in glory!”
“Not literally, I hope.” Gen murmured, sipping his drink.
Yuzuriha chuckled softly before turning her gaze toward Senku. “It’s good to see you outside the lab for once.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Senku replied half-joking. “Deadlines don’t wait because someone wants me to mingle.”
Gen’s eyes glimmered as he leaned closer to Yuzuriha, stage-whispering. “Speaking of mingling, where is our golden-haired warrior? Surely she’s not one to miss a celebration of this scale.”
Yuzuriha adjusted the strap of her dress delicately, smiling. “Minami wanted to give her a few last touches before she joined us. She should be here any moment now.”
Gen’s eyes lit with interest, lips curving in a mischievous smile. “Well, well. I can’t wait to see how radiant she looks tonight. Senku, aren’t you the least bit curious?”
Senku rolled his eyes but, despite himself, his gaze swept across the glittering crowd. He searched between clumps of chatting guests, scanning for golden hair, for the unmistakable figure of the lioness who had walked beside him through deserts, forests, and battlefields alike.
Then the tall double doors of the ballroom swung open. Minami’s sharp poise drew glances as naturally as a flame drew moths, her elegant black dress cut with angular precision and her trusty camera on the side. Chelsea, ever bold, glowed in crimson silk, a smile already tugging mischievously at her lips. Suika, blossomed into a young woman yet still carrying her signature brightness, twirled shyly in pale lavender.
For a fleeting instant, the entire grand hall seemed to hush. The soft shuffle of violins and the distant hum of voices dimmed as the four young women stepped into the ballroom, the doorway framing them like a living portrait.
And then there was Kohaku.
The world stilled for a fraction of a second. Senku’s gaze caught, locked. The ever-moving gears of his mind ground to a halt. His body, usually restless with thought and calculation, stood frozen as stone. He had seen her fight, bleed, roar with strength. He had seen her laugh in sunlight, her hair catching gold. But this, this was something else entirely.
Senku Ishigami, man of logic and science, stood utterly, completely petrified.
The lioness of Ishigami Village, the huntress who had grown beneath the sun and thrived in the wilderness, now moved with the grace of nobility itself. She wore a gown of royal blue, the fabric shimmering faintly under the chandelier light.
It flowed down her frame like liquid twilight, hugging her waist before spilling in a smooth cascade to the floor. A daring slit carved up one side of the dress, revealing the taut line of her leg as she strode forward, every step measured yet powerful.
The neckline dipped elegantly, subtle yet unmistakably alluring, drawing the eye toward the natural curve of her collarbone and shoulders. Her hair, still golden, still untamed, had been coaxed by Yuzuriha’s skilled hands into an elegant bun high at the back of her head, strands pinned carefully yet never fully subdued.
A few deliberate wisps escaped, curling down to frame her face and soften the sharpness of her features, lending her a regal air without erasing the wild spark that defined her.
The contrast of the polished style with her natural fierceness only made her presence more striking, as though civilization itself had tried to tame her and only succeeded in accentuating her beauty.
On her ears dangled pearl earrings, tiny spheres that swayed with every tilt of her head, catching the light without ever stealing it from her. A pair of sleek high heels, silvery, with the faintest sparkle, added height to her already formidable presence, forcing her gait into a stride that was somehow both regal and predatory.
Makeup softened her features only just enough, a faint dusting of gold on her eyelids, a sweep of rose on her lips, and the lightest blush across her cheeks. It did not tame her beauty, rather, it sharpened it into something breathtakingly striking.
Conversations faltered around the room. Heads turned. A ripple passed through the crowd as if the entire party had shifted orbit.
Kohaku, utterly unaware, or perhaps entirely aware, moved with calm assurance at the center of her group. And then, instinctively, her gaze swept the room.
Their eyes met.
Across the sea of chandeliers and champagne glasses, Senku felt the weight of her bluish stare land on him. She smiled, not her usual easy grin, but something smaller, sharper. A deliberate curve of her lips, a look that said I see you, I know you’re watching. And then, just as easily, she turned away.
With Minami at her side, Chelsea laughing at some quiet joke, and Suika bubbling in excitement, Kohaku crossed the room toward the bar. They slipped between the gathering of guests, heels tapping against the polished floor, and claimed a spot opposite François, who had moved to attend to the new guests.
Senku forced his gaze back to his glass. He brought it to his lips and drained a mouthful, the alcohol burning sharp down his throat.
Beside him, Gen’s smirk widened to something positively feline. “My, my. Someone looks… utterly stunned. What do you think, Senku? Does our wild warrior clean up well, or have you been struck dumb by her radiance?”
“Oi…” Senku muttered, setting his glass down. He reached for the next drink François slid his way. “She’s the same person, fancy fabric or not.”
“Oh, come now.” Gen sing-songed. “Don’t hide behind your scientist act. You’re practically vibrating.”
Ryusui leaned forward with a theatrical laugh, clapping Senku on the shoulder. “To think! The unshakable genius of our age, rattled by a mere smile. Delightful! Love is the finest conquest of all.”
Senku ignored them both, eyes fixed stubbornly on his drink. He tipped it back, letting silence be his shield.
Across from them, Taiju blinked in confusion. “Wait, are we talking about Kohaku? She looks amazing! Right, Yuzuriha?”
Yuzuriha giggled softly. “She does. Minami really outdid herself this time with the make up.”
Gen, still grinning, pivoted slyly. “And what of you, Tsukasa?” His voice dripped with feigned innocence. “Don't you think Minami cuts a striking figure tonight?”
The warrior’s expression remained calm, but his eyes lingered briefly, just briefly, on the reporter in her sleek black gown. His answer, when it came, was steady, deliberate. “She carries herself well. Strength doesn’t always show in battle. It shows in the way someone chooses to stand.”
Gen’s grin sharpened, satisfied. “Mm... Poetic, as always.”
Senku, for his part, kept his gaze anchored to the rim of his glass. But the corner of his vision betrayed him. Every few seconds, unbidden, his eyes flicked sideways toward the cluster of women at the bar.
Kohaku leaned one elbow casually against the counter, her laughter ringing low and warm as Chelsea whispered something outrageous. Suika bounced on her heels, sipping a brightly colored mocktail with both hands, while Minami already had her camera raised, snapping pictures with her usual unflinching focus.
Kohaku’s head tipped back as she drank from a slim-stemmed glass, the slit of her gown shifting just so to reveal the toned line of her thigh. Senku’s hand tightened imperceptibly around his drink.
She looked over then, just a glance, no more than a heartbeat’s worth of eye contact, before turning back to her companions with a laugh.
Gen chuckled lowly. “Careful, my friend. If you keep watching like that, you’ll set her on fire.”
Senku didn’t answer. He only drank.
The evening drifted on. Music swelled and ebbed, conversations overlapped in ripples. At some point the tempo shifted, the jazz gave way to a livelier tune, strings and drums urging people onto the dance floor.
Ryusui, of course, was the first to claim the space, twirling some poor guest into a dizzying spin. Soon others followed, laughter and applause rising as the room pulsed with rhythm.
And then, inevitably, Kohaku joined.
At first she stayed near her friends, laughing as Chelsea dragged her forward. But once the beat caught her, she moved with a kind of unstudied grace, every motion fluid and fierce. The slit of her dress revealed flashes of muscle, it wasn’t elegance in the traditional sense, it was power, raw and magnetic. People stepped back simply to give her space.
Senku watched, jaw tight. Each spin, each sway of her hips, was another deliberate spark thrown his way. She never looked directly at him, but he knew. He knew.
Gen leaned close, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear. “This, my dear Senku, is what we call revenge. She’s toying with you.”
“Ha…” Senku muttered, forcing himself to glance back at the group. Taiju was laughing heartily at something Ryusui said, Yuzuriha chatting with Tsukasa. He took another swallow of his drink.
But his peripheral vision betrayed him again. Kohaku’s laughter, Kohaku’s sharp twirl, Kohaku’s sapphire eyes glancing just for a second his way before she turned back.
It was a slow burn, the kind of thing that stretched the night into hours. She stayed with her circle, never breaking away, sipping drinks, throwing her head back in laughter at Chelsea’s jokes, leaning down to murmur something to Suika. Always near, always visible. Always just out of reach.
Senku held his ground as long as he could.
But eventually, inevitably, she peeled away from the dance floor. Breathless, glowing, she slipped through the crowd and back toward the bar, this time alone. She set her glass down, signaling François with a tilt of her chin.
And that was it.
Senku exhaled, slow and sharp. He set his glass down, ignoring Gen’s knowing smirk and Ryusui’s delighted laughter.
“Alright.” He muttered to himself, pushing off the counter. “I’ve had enough.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned, cutting across the room toward the bar.
Behind him, Gen’s laughter rang like a bell. “Finally.”
Senku moved with deliberate purpose, weaving through the currents of laughter and chatter, ignoring the curious glances that followed him. The music, the clinking of glasses, the swell of voices, all of it blurred into background noise. His focus was fixed only on the woman at the bar.
Kohaku stood with one hip braced against the counter, the royal-blue fabric of her gown spilling like liquid midnight around her. A fresh glass glittered in her hand, condensation sliding slowly down the stem.
She didn’t notice him immediately; she was speaking with François, lips curved in an easy smile, the soft pearls at her ears swaying gently with each movement of her head.
But then she sensed him, she always did. Her blue eyes flicked to the side, and when she saw him step up beside her, her smile shifted. Not surprise, not shock, something slyer.
“Well, well.” She greeted lightly, turning fully to face him. Her voice held warmth, but also a thread of amusement. “Look who finally decided to join me. How’s the night treating you, Senku?”
He propped one elbow against the bar, glass still in hand, gaze narrowing at her. “Don’t play dumb, Kohaku. I know exactly what you’ve been doing.”
Her brows lifted, her mouth curving into mock innocence. “Do you now? And what have I been doing, exactly?”
Senku let out a dry chuckle, low in his throat. “Trying to drive me insane. Teasing. Parading. Whatever you want to call it. You’ve been making a game of it since the second you walked in here.”
She tilted her head, golden strands slipping loose from her bun to frame her face. “A game? Hm... That’s a funny way to put it. I was only enjoying myself. Maybe you’re just imagining things.”
“Yeah, right.” He set his glass down with a muted clink. “You really think it’s not childish, this little… act of yours?”
That earned him a sharper smile. She leaned an inch closer, lowering her voice just enough that the music nearly swallowed it. “Funny. Because if it’s so childish, why are you standing here instead of ignoring me like you did the last few weeks?”
The words cut sharper than she intended, and for a second, silence hung between them. Senku’s expression didn’t waver, but his eyes sharpened, their weight heavy on her.
“Not because I wanted to.” He said finally, tone flat but edged with something deeper. “Ignoring you was the last thing I’d ever want. But the project needed me. You know that.”
Her lips pressed together, the faintest flicker of conflict in her gaze. She took a sip of her drink, then set it down carefully, as though to steady herself. “…I do know. I’ve always known. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t upset about it.”
“That’s fair.” His voice softened, just slightly. “But don’t twist necessity into intent. I don’t choose science over you. I can’t.”
Kohaku studied him for a long moment. Around them, the world carried on, the music rose, laughter spiked across the ballroom, the band struck up a bright flourish. But here, at the bar, the air felt heavy, threaded with heat.
Her lips curved again, but this time the smile was sharp, dangerous. “You almost sound like you’re apologizing.”
“Almost.” He replied, mouth twitching into the ghost of a smirk.
Their words tangled like sparring blows, each one testing, probing. She stepped a fraction closer, the slit of her gown brushing against his leg, and he didn’t move away.
“So what then?” She asked, eyes glittering. “If you want me to forgive you, what are you prepared to do?”
Senku’s hand moved before he could second-guess it. He slid his arm around her waist, palm firm against the curve where her gown cinched tight. The gesture was smooth, controlled, but undeniably intimate. He leaned down, lips near her ear.
“That’s what I was going to ask you.” He murmured. “What exactly do I have to do… to make you forgive me?”
Kohaku’s breath caught, just for a second, though she masked it quickly with a scoff. “Tch. Trying to flip the question back on me? That’s a cheap trick, even for you.”
“Works, doesn’t it?” His tone was calm, but the pressure of his arm around her waist said otherwise.
She turned her head toward him, their faces suddenly close, so close she could see the sharp line of his jaw, the faint shadows under his eyes from too many sleepless nights. She reached up with one hand, fingers brushing against his chest before climbing higher, curling into the fabric of his tie.
“Maybe.” She admitted, voice husky with challenge. “But I don’t forgive easily. You’ll have to prove that you’ve earned it.”
Her hand tightened, tugging the tie just enough to tilt his head fractionally down. The air between them charged like static, thick with the unspoken. He didn’t resist; his gaze locked on hers, steady, unblinking.
For a heartbeat, the ballroom around them ceased to exist.
Then she smirked. “Come on.”
With a sharp tug, she turned, pulling him with her. Still gripping his tie, she guided him away from the bar, weaving between guests. Senku followed without protest, his long strides easily matching hers. Heads turned as they passed, but neither looked back.
The music and chatter dulled with distance, fading as they slipped beyond the fringes of the ballroom. The polished corridors of the Nanami mansion stretched ahead, quieter, the light dimmer, footsteps echoing faintly on marble floors.
Kohaku’s grip on Senku’s tie guided him with a deliberate assertiveness, her blue eyes glinting in the warm light of ornate sconces. He followed without hesitation, long legs matching hers easily, the weight of her hand tethering him to her will in a way that made his chest tighten with anticipation.
They reached a small sitting room, tucked away from the revelry. The space was intimate, yet elegant, echoing the grandeur of the ballroom but scaled down to a private haven. A pair of plush, high-backed armchairs faced the expansive windows that framed the night sky, stars glimmering like distant sparks.
The same opulent chandeliers lined the walls, casting flickering shadows across the polished wooden floor. Heavy curtains, the color of deep garnet, framed the windows, and a low coffee table sat in the center, adorned with an intricate silver tray holding untouched crystal glasses.
Kohaku released his tie just enough to steer him toward one of the armchairs. He let himself lean against its high back, the polished wood cool beneath his fingers, and for a moment, they simply stood facing one another. Her gaze lingered on his face, sharp, measuring, teasing, before she closed the distance without warning.
Her lips pressed to his. It was a kiss that demanded attention, that claimed space and pulled at the edges of control. Her body leaned into his, warm and firm against him, as if every step across the ballroom had been calculated for this moment alone.
Hands slid into his hair, tangling and tugging gently, pulling him closer, forcing a tilt of his head to deepen the contact. Senku responded instantly, one hand bracing her at the nape of her neck, the other winding along the curve of her back, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of her gown, drawing her even nearer.
The kiss was a battle as much as it was a conversation. Lips clashed and meshed, a silent dialogue of dominance and surrender. Pauses came not from lack of desire, but to catch the breath that both seemed to steal from one another.
Their foreheads occasionally pressed together between the gasps, eyes partially open to flicker toward one another, revealing flashes of amusement, challenge, and undeniable want. Both cheeks burned pink, their bodies radiating heat into the cool, candle-lit room.
Kohaku’s hands never let go of his hair, fingers threading deeper and tugging softly, a silent assertion of control. Senku’s hand at her back tightened, holding her firm, guiding her even closer while letting her think she was leading.
Their movements were synchronized chaos, an intimate choreography, each testing boundaries, each finding exhilaration in the other’s proximity.
It was a slow dance of tension and desire, punctuated by the faint scrape of heels against the floor, the soft rustle of silk, the subtle scent of perfume and warmth mingling in the air. Senku’s mind, so often a fortress of calculation and logic, found itself unraveling in the pull of her body, in the fierce, intoxicating rhythm of their kiss.
Senku’s lips pressed harder against hers, their mouths moving in sync yet constantly struggling for control, each pause to catch their breath only heightening the tension. His hand, until now resting firmly at her back, began to drift downward, following the curve of her waist until his long fingers reached the slit of her dress.
With calculated precision, he slipped his palm along the smooth length of her thigh, the warmth of his touch trailing upward until he brushed dangerously close to where the fabric no longer guarded her. Kohaku gasped against his lips, the sudden contact sparking through her body like a jolt of static electricity, sharp and dizzying, making her toes curl inside her shoes.
She instinctively hooked her leg around his, pulling him closer, forcing their bodies to align more intimately. The friction between them deepened, the heat of the encounter coiling in her stomach, and for a fleeting moment she forgot the walls of Ryusui’s mansion existed at all.
Senku’s mouth curved into a half-smile against hers, as if amused by her reaction, yet he didn’t let go; instead, he pushed further into the kiss, letting his free hand tangle once again in the golden strands escaping her bun.
Kohaku answered with equal fervor, clutching his shoulders, grinding ever so slightly against the press of his leg. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and challenge as they parted for a breath. She leaned back just slightly, enough to look into his eyes, sea-like gaze intense.
“You’re going about this the right way if you want to make up for three weeks of neglect.” She murmured, voice low, playful, edged with a heat that made the hairs at the back of his neck rise.
Senku smirked despite himself, his chest rising and falling in quick succession. “Three weeks, huh? Then I guess I’ll have to make a proper effort. Don’t worry, I plan to be really convincing.” His hands lingered on her waist and back, steadying her as if to ground himself against the storm of her presence.
She tilted her head, assessing him with a look that was at once teasing and serious. Then, letting her hand slip down from his tie, she trailed it back to the knot, gripping it firmly once again. “So… do you think it’s time we leave this little party behind?” She asked softly, voice a blend of challenge and suggestion. The curl of her lips hinted at her enjoyment, her audacity, and the trust she placed in him.
Senku’s hand tightened subtly on her waist, his long fingers tracing the curve of her back beneath the fabric. He gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, eyes locking on hers. “Lead the way.” He murmured, voice calm, controlled, but not without the undertone of desire.
The game had changed. No more teasing from afar, no more flickering glances or playful posturing. They moved as one, guided by an unspoken understanding, the pull of chemistry undeniable. Kohaku led him through the hallways of the mansion, her grip on his tie a tether, his hand on her waist the anchor. Each step echoed faintly, the walls swallowing the sounds of the ballroom behind them, leaving only their breathing, the soft brush of clothes, and the quiet thrill of shared intent.
Kohaku moved with purpose, but never rushed. Her confidence radiated, each step measured yet fluid, heels clicking softly. She glanced up at him from time to time, blue eyes gleaming, lips curved in a smirk that spoke of shared amusement and daring challenge. Senku matched her pace, fingers firm at her back, keeping the distance intimate without breaking the flow, attuned to every sway, every breath.
Finally, they reached the threshold of the exit. Beyond, the night awaited, cool and wide, the distant lights of the estate twinkling faintly like stars beneath the velvet sky. Kohaku paused, glancing back at him, letting her hand drop from his tie but keeping a light touch against his chest, a tether that refused release.
Senku’s arm tightened slightly around her waist, fingers pressing just enough to communicate that he wasn’t letting her go. The playful fire in her eyes met the controlled heat in his. Neither needed words.
Kohaku’s lips twitched upward in a knowing smile, sensing the shift, the inevitability. Senku mirrored her expression, a corner of his mouth lifting, dry but charged, teasing but aware of the storm simmering beneath.
Notes:
I was very clear about the dress I wanted Kohaku to wear. And you can't tell me that, being Ryusui the way he is, he wouldn't have a room full of all kinds of formal wear just because, including dresses.
I'll upload the second part in a bit. I warn you there will be smut, so read at your own risk.
Chapter Text
The door to Senku’s apartment closed behind them with a quiet click, the faint sound of the party outside fading into distant hums. The room was modest but comfortable, sterile in a scientific way yet softened by the scattered personal touches.
Shelves lined with books, small trinkets from inventions, and a faint smell of antiseptic mixed with lingering perfume from their evening. The city lights spilled through the windows, casting long, soft shadows across the room.
Kohaku barely had time to catch her breath before Senku’s hand slid to the small of her back, pressing her gently but firmly against the door. The sudden closeness stole her air for a moment, and she laughed softly, a breathless sound that seemed to tug at the edges of his restraint.
“You’re… relentless.” She murmured, blue eyes locking on his, gleaming with amusement and challenge.
“Three weeks...” Senku said, voice low and steady, as though the words themselves carried weight. “Three weeks without you. I’ve been patient… but even I have limits.”
Kohaku tilted her head, lips curling into a teasing smirk. “Is that so? I think someone’s finally realizing what he’s been missing.” She pressed herself just slightly against him, feeling the heat of his body and the firm strength of his frame. His presence pressed against her like a magnet, and she shivered at the closeness.
Senku’s hands slid with precision, one finding its place at her waist, guiding her, drawing her closer, while the other brushed along her back with calculated pressure, tilting his hips slightly to situate a leg between hers. The subtle motion sent an undeniable shiver up her spine, a fleeting, almost electric sensation that made her gasp softly.
Kohaku’s lips parted in a soundless laugh as she pressed against him, hands tangling in his hair and tugging gently, testing his reaction. He responded immediately, one hand rising to cradle her neck, tilting her head just enough to deepen the pressure between them, the other tracing along the curve of her back, anchoring her to him.
Their bodies pressed together, the warmth and weight of each amplifying the tension, every heartbeat synchronized in a rhythm neither wanted to break.
“You’ve been… missing this, haven’t you?” She whispered, breathless, teasing. Her lips brushed against his jaw as she spoke, the soft sound sending another shiver along his spine.
“Every single day.” Senku admitted, voice low, rough with suppressed hunger. “I’ve tried to keep my focus… but it’s impossible when sometimes all I can think about is you.” His hands tightened subtly, pulling her closer while his gaze held hers, sharp and unrelenting.
Kohaku’s laughter was soft, breathy, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Then maybe it’s your turn to prove it.” She murmured, leaning in to press her forehead against his. The contact was intimate, teasing, and dangerously inviting. “If you really want to make up for three weeks of… absence, you’ll have to show me.”
He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curling in a smirk. “Don’t worry, I intend to convince you that I’ve missed you more than you could possibly imagine.”
Kohaku’s eyes glimmered, mischievous, challenging. “Convincing me… is a tall order. You sure you can handle it?”
“I don’t intend to fail.” He replied, voice low, controlled, yet filled with unmistakable desire. His hand along her waist slid upward slightly, brushing just beneath the hem of her gown, eliciting another shiver from her as he maintained steady, firm pressure. “I’m not planning on holding anything back.”
Her laughter was soft, teasing, but she leaned in closer, brushing her lips against his jawline. “You really do underestimate how much I’ve been expecting this too.” She whispered, fingers tracing the back of his neck, tugging just enough to draw him into her space. “Careful, Senku. I might just take control if you push too hard.”
“Good.” He murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss against her temple, then along the curve of her jaw, lips brushing in a trail of whispered promise. “Because I want you to. I’ve wanted this since the first week we were apart.”
Kohaku shivered, pressing her body against his. “Then maybe we should stop talking and start… proving it.” She suggested, one hand sliding from his hair down to his chest, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he responded to her touch.
Senku’s lips hovered near hers, a breath away, before he closed the distance once more. Their kiss was slow, deliberate, each press of lips and gentle tug of hair a dialogue of desire, teasing, and unspoken claims. She pressed back, matching his intensity, a rhythm of give and take, of playful dominance and yielding surrender.
For a long moment, they stood there, pressed together, swaying subtly in the quiet of the apartment, caught between playful teasing and the undeniable heat of longing.
Kohaku’s lips parted in a teasing grin, and her hand slid down to the knot of his tie, tugging it lightly to guide him. “Do you think… we should continue this somewhere… more private?” she murmured, breathless, eyes glimmering with challenge and desire.
Senku’s hands found her waist again, fingers digging lightly, steadying her, as his lips brushed against hers in a fleeting contact. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” He murmured, voice low, eyes dark with intent.
Without hesitation, he lifted her slightly, feeling her legs instinctively wrap around his hips as she leaned against him, a quiet laugh escaping her lips.
“Oh? So you’re really eager for this, huh?” She teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“You underestimate.” He replied with a dry smirk, voice low and rough.
Her laugh was soft, teasing, breathless, and she pressed closer as he carried her through the apartment. Every step echoed with quiet anticipation, the faint rustle of fabric and the soft tap of heels against the floor adding to the charged atmosphere.
Finally, he reached the bedroom. Senku gently lowered her onto the bed, hands lingering at her waist as he moved to remove his jacket and shoes, while Kohaku’s hands worked to loosen the fastening of her gown, letting it fall free with a quiet flutter to the floor, her heels discarded nearby.
Senku leaned over her, hands resting lightly on either side, eyes scanning hers, filled with hunger, longing, and playful intent. Slowly, deliberately, he allowed his lips to meet hers again, deepening the kiss while his hands brushed along her form, the motion teasing and suggestive, pressing, exploring, but leaving the rest to imagination.
Her hands tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, golden eyes half-lidded, breath coming in shallow gasps. She tilted her head, pressing against him, lips parting for soft, heated kisses, her body arching slightly as she responded to the subtle touches, the grazing contact of their forms, the quiet intensity of their connection.
Senku’s lips traced a path down her neck, brushing along her collarbone with gentle pressure, leaving whispered traces of intent, each touch deliberate, teasing, igniting reaction without breaking the flow of intimacy.
Kohaku’s small, breathy sighs and quiet laughter filled the room, her hands securing him in place, pulling him closer, enjoying the intensity of their proximity.
Their breathing matched now, a rhythm of shared desire and playful dominance, lips and hands engaged in a delicate, sensual dance, each pause a teasing question, each motion a silent declaration of how much they had both missed and craved each other.
The dim light of the apartment cast soft shadows across the bedroom, highlighting the curve of Kohaku’s form against the bed as Senku leaned over her, fingers still tracing gentle, teasing lines along her shoulders and sides.
Her breathing was uneven, a mixture of laughter and soft gasps, as though every touch, every brush of skin ignited a spark of electricity that traveled through her whole body.
Senku’s eyes darkened with a controlled intensity, a predator in his element, his long fingers gripping the edge of the mattress as he positioned himself carefully, deliberately.
Every movement was calculated, every shift meant to maintain control, to command, to draw every ounce of her attention and devotion. Kohaku’s golden gaze met his, flickering with desire, amusement, and a trace of surrender.
“You’re… insatiable tonight.” She breathed, her voice soft, teasing, yet trembling slightly with anticipation. Her fingers curled into the sheets beneath her, nails grazing the fabric as her body arched involuntarily toward him.
“And you’ve been teasing me all evening.” He countered, lips brushing along her jawline, teeth grazing softly in a deliberate, provocative manner. “Three weeks… and you think I can just wait patiently?”
Her laugh was breathy, almost a moan, as she pressed closer, feeling the heat of his body, the tension in his long limbs, the way his presence dominated the space around her. “Maybe I deserved it.” She whispered, voice catching. “But… I didn’t expect this.”
Senku’s hands moved with a precision that left her trembling. One hand gripped her waist, steadying her against him, while the other traced teasing patterns across her torso, fingers curling lightly into the fabric that still clung to her. Every touch was deliberate, controlled, and yet undeniably intimate, sending shivers along her spine.
She let herself tilt her head, lips parting slightly, breaths shallow as he hovered closer, lips barely brushing hers. “Senku…” She murmured, voice thick with anticipation.
He replied, lips hovering over hers, teeth grazing softly along her jaw, moving down to her collarbone, teasing, claiming, but always controlled.
Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and for a moment, she let herself forget the world outside. She was suspended in his presence, completely consumed by the intensity of his focus on her, the deliberate weight of his body pressing against hers. She arched instinctively, following the rhythm of his subtle movements, her back pressing firmly into the mattress as he adjusted his position.
“You feel… so good.” She whispered, breath catching as she tried to ground herself against the wave of sensation his touch elicited. Her hands fisted in the sheets, nails grazing the soft fabric, body trembling as every inch of her seemed to respond to him instinctively.
Senku’s lips brushed along the sensitive planes of her neck, tracing gentle, teasing lines, descending in deliberate, calculated motions. His hands pressed lightly against her, holding, guiding, never rushing, but every movement communicated intent, desire, and a controlled, unyielding claim over her attention. Kohaku let out soft, involuntary sounds, head tilting, body arching, completely captivated by the sensation, unable to resist or pull away.
“You’re… making me lose my mind.” She murmured, voice low, shaky, each word punctuated by a breathless gasp. “Senku… please…”
His eyes darkened, a shadow of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, I plan to.” He whispered, voice low, full of controlled heat. “But you’re not going anywhere. Not until I decide you’ve had enough.”
Senku pressed himself just slightly closer, adjusting his position so that his weight, his presence, was inescapable until he reached her bust. Her body reacted instinctively, leaning into him, responding to every brush of skin against skin, every deliberate movement of his hands across her torso. She was trapped in the delicious tension, caught between desire and surrender, unable to move away even if she wanted to.
Kohaku’s hands threaded into his hair, tugging gently as she pressed against him instinctively, eyes half-lidded, lips parting in quiet gasps and soft laughter that quickly dissolved into breathless moans.
Every subtle motion, every arch, every shift, was a silent surrender, a wordless acknowledgment of the control he held, the dominance he exerted without force, merely through his deliberate touch and focused attention.
“You’re… completely undone.” He murmured, lips brushing along the sensitive skin at her breasts again, teeth grazing softly, eliciting another gasp. His hands moved down to her sides, guiding, teasing, holding, every motion controlled yet undeniably intimate. “And I love it. Love how much you’re… enjoying this.”
Kohaku’s eyes fluttered, pupils dilated, breath shallow as she struggled to form words amidst the intensity of sensation. “I… can’t…” She admitted, voice thick, almost a whisper, as she pressed into him, tilting her head back, lips parting, fingers clutching at his shoulders and hair. “Senku… please…”
His mouth descended with deliberate intent, and Kohaku felt the shift in his focus as if the world itself narrowed to her alone. The air between them crackled with anticipation, her breath catching when his lips grazed the sensitive line of her stomach before moving lower, reaching her intimacy.
The teasing press of his mouth over the last garment she was wearing drew a startled gasp from her, and her hands instinctively flew to his hair, tangling in the unruly strands as though anchoring herself against the wave of sensation building far too quickly. This continued until he undressed her completely, leaving her exposed to him and reaching once again her entrance.
Her body betrayed her completely, arching toward him, her legs tightening around his shoulders as if trying to pull him closer. The sounds spilling from her lips, soft, breathless, unguarded...
Senku responded to each one with a maddening precision, as though he were mapping the very rhythm of her pleasure, pushing her higher while refusing to let her come. Every careful stroke, every heated kiss, left her trembling, undone, and she could no longer tell if the sparks racing through her veins came from his science or from the man himself.
Kohaku’s voice broke on his name, half a plea, half a warning, but Senku only deepened his devotion, unrelenting in the hunger that had been denied for too long.
The strength in her limbs melted until she could do nothing but grip at his shoulders helplessly, lost to the sensation overwhelming her. He held her there, utterly at his mercy, until she dissolved against him with a shudder that stole her breath, leaving her unable to do anything but collapse back into the cushions, boneless and dazed.
He adjusted his position slightly, hands firm on her waist and shoulders, lips moving along the planes of her chest, neck, and collarbone with deliberate intent. His movements were careful but loaded with suggestion, communicating everything without ever crossing into the explicit.
She was completely immobilized, she was helpless in the most delicious way, aware of every inch of him, of herself, of the charged energy between them.
Kohaku’s body arched again, hands clutching at him, fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt, breaths uneven as her head tilted back. “Senku… I… I can’t…” She whispered, voice trembling with pleasure, each word punctuated by shivers and gasps.
“Shh...” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, then along her jaw, lips teasing, hands firm, holding, guiding, commanding yet gentle. “You don’t have to… just let me… show you how much I’ve missed you.”
Her sapphire eyes fluttered closed, lips parting, body arching, entirely consumed, entirely immobilized by the sensation, by the closeness, by the deliberate, controlled intensity of his attention.
For a long, suspended moment, the room was filled only with their synchronized breaths, soft gasps, the faint rustle of fabric, and the quiet heat of their shared presence, an intimacy charged, sensual, and intense, yet still carefully within the boundaries of suggestion, leaving everything else to the imagination.
The bedroom was awash with the faint silver glow of moonlight filtering through the half‑drawn curtains. The quiet outside stood in sharp contrast to the storm that churned inside Senku as he hovered over Kohaku. Now, with her sprawled across his sheets, her golden hair loose from its bindings and spilling like molten light across the pillows, that ache roared back with brutal insistence.
She looked at him with a softness that was new, unguarded, but her lips curved into a knowing smile. There was strength in her, as always, but now it was tempered by anticipation. Her chest rose and fell with breaths that came too fast to be steady. The air between them was heavy, dense, as though it too waited for the inevitable breaking point.
Senku dipped down, capturing her lips in a kiss that burned with weeks of denial. His hunger bled into every movement, every press of his mouth against hers. Kohaku melted against him, her hands roaming over his shoulders and the back of his neck, pulling him closer as though she could fuse herself into him.
Her surrender did not make her weaker, rather, it was a choice, a deliberate giving over of control. And he, who spent his days controlling every variable in the world, felt undone by the way she trusted him to take the lead.
His lips left hers only to blaze a trail of heat along her jaw, down the curve of her throat. Each kiss was deeper than the last, punctuated with the occasional scrape of teeth that made her gasp.
He savored the way her breath caught, the tremors that ran through her body when he lingered at the hollow of her collarbone. Her skin tasted of warmth, of life, of something sweeter than any chemical he had ever studied. He was a scientist who dissected everything, who broke down the universe into elements and reactions, but in this moment, there was no formula, no experiment. There was only her.
Kohaku’s hands gripped the sheets, knuckles pale against the dark fabric, as his mouth continued downward. She arched into him, baring herself, wordless but pleading. The sound of her breaths filled the room, uneven and sharp, like music meant only for him. And with every sound, Senku’s restraint frayed.
When he returned to her lips, it was with renewed ferocity. Their mouths clashed in a kiss that was more a battle than an embrace, tongues tangling, breath stolen and returned in uneven measure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, grounding herself against the tide of sensation. He pressed against her, their bodies aligning with a precision that felt inevitable, as though they had been carved to fit this way and only this way.
He whispered against her mouth, voice hoarse, rougher than she had ever heard it. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this… how much I’ve missed you.”
Kohaku’s answer was a choked laugh, breathless, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “I think I have an idea.”
Their eyes locked in the scant distance between them. Her gaze was molten, daring, but softened by affection. His own, usually sharp and calculating, was clouded with need. They didn’t need further words; the truth of their desire was written in the tremble of her body, in the tension of his grip at her waist.
The last barrier between them dissolved in a moment heavy with anticipation. Senku guided her with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the urgency pounding in his veins.
And then, inevitably, finally, they were one. The world narrowed to the searing point of contact, a collision of fire and breath that stole whatever air remained in their lungs. Kohaku gasped, the sound breaking against his ear, and Senku’s own voice cracked with a groan that betrayed just how desperately he had needed this.
It was not violent, though it carried the ferocity of their long‑denied hunger. Instead, it was a rhythm born of desperation and wonder, each movement pulling them closer, binding them tighter.
He kissed her through it, again and again, unable to stay away from her lips even as their bodies spoke a language older and deeper than words. His hands roamed, one steady at the curve of her hip, the other tracing the arch of her spine as though memorizing every inch of her anew.
Kohaku clung to him, her strength yielding to sensation until she was utterly pliant beneath him. Every shudder of pleasure that coursed through her drew him deeper into the storm they shared.
She gave herself over without hesitation, trusting him, surrendering, and in that surrender he found himself undone. Her voice, breaking into fragmented whispers of his name, filled the spaces between their ragged breaths. It was a music that drove him to the edge of madness.
Senku’s mouth moved from her lips to her throat again, tasting her pulse, branding her skin with kisses that were almost frantic. His hunger was unrelenting, each touch, each caress underscored by weeks of starved longing.
He was not careful, not calculated; he was simply a man who had missed the woman before him more than he could ever admit aloud. Each movement said what he could not: that three weeks had been a lifetime, that every hour without her had been an ache.
Their rhythm grew more frantic, more desperate, as though both knew this was not simply an act but a reclamation, a reunion of everything they had been denied. His breath was hot against her ear as he murmured, almost ragged, “You drive me insane… and I don’t ever want it to stop.”
Kohaku’s reply was nothing more than a whimper, a tightening of her arms around him, her body moving with his as though they were caught in the same current. The passion, the hunger, the surrender, they blurred into one overwhelming tide that swept them both beyond reason.
The world outside the four walls of the room ceased to exist. There were no experiments, no missions, no futures to build. Only the now, the heat of skin against skin, the press of lips and teeth, the relentless rhythm that tethered them together. Moonlight washed over them like witness, silvering their sweat‑damp skin, gilding the chaos with quiet reverence.
As the tide rose, carrying them closer to the inevitable crest, Senku’s control faltered. He pressed his forehead to hers, strands of silver‑white hair mingling with golden locks, and let the truth fall from his lips in a voice wrecked with desire. “Kohaku… I can’t...” His words broke into a groan, swallowed by the kiss she gave him, sealing their union in silence.
The breaking point came not as a single moment but as a flood, unstoppable and all‑consuming. They shattered together, every breath, every sound lost to the surge of release that claimed them. Kohaku’s cry merged with his groan, their bodies clinging desperately as though to anchor themselves against the storm.
Afterward, silence filled the room, thick, heavy, but gentle now. Their bodies remained entwined, chest to chest, breaths slowing in unison.
Kohaku lay sprawled across the bed, golden hair in disarray, her chest rising and falling as she gulped in air. Her body hummed with a lingering afterglow that made her feel deliciously heavy, as if gravity had finally claimed her.
Beside her, Senku collapsed onto his back with a sharp exhale, one arm stretched over his forehead, the other sliding instinctively to her waist to keep her close.
Their skins glistened, the sheen of sweat catching faintly in the dim light filtering from the half-open curtains. Outside, the world was still, the stars silent witnesses to what had just unfolded.
“I think...” She whispered, voice husky with exhaustion and bliss. “That you might just be forgiven.”
Senku let out a low laugh, shaky and unsteady, his lips pressing to her temple. “Might?” he teased, though his tone carried none of its usual sharpness. He sounded undone, softened. Human.
Kohaku’s arms tightened around him, her smile evident even without looking. “We’ll see how you do the next time you decide to bury yourself in your work for weeks.”
He chuckled again, but the sound was warm, reverberating against her skin. “Then I’ll just have to make damn sure I double the effort when it happens.’” His voice softened further, almost tender.
She poked his ribs lightly, enough to make him twitch. “You’re lucky I’m merciful.”
“Merciful?” He raised a brow, a hint of a chuckle slipping through. “You dragged me out of a party like a predator with her prey, and I’m the one who should be grateful you’re merciful?”
“That’s right.” She replied, leaning closer, her cheek brushing against his arm. “Because next time you lock yourself away for weeks, don’t expect me to just wait patiently.” Her eyes softened, though, even as she warned him. “I’ll forgive you this once… but only this once.”
Senku shifted, rolling onto his side so he could face her properly. His hand slid from her waist up to her cheek, brushing away a strand of damp hair that clung stubbornly to her temple. His smirk faded, replaced by something quieter, something almost uncharacteristic for him.
“I didn’t ignore you because I wanted to. You know that, right?” He murmured.
Kohaku held his gaze, her expression searching. She could feel the sincerity in his tone, the weight behind it. For once, Senku wasn’t masking himself with wit or bravado.
“I know.” She admitted softly, her fingers finding his wrist, holding it against her cheek. “You were working. The machine, the experiments… the world’s future.” Her lips curved into a faint smile. “No one understands how much it matters to you better than I do.”
Senku’s thumb traced lightly along her jawline. “And yet.” He said, quieter now, “I hated that it kept me from you. More than I’d admit, even to myself.”
Kohaku’s laugh was soft, almost tender, but it caught slightly in her throat. “You’re terrible at this, you know.” She teased, though her voice betrayed the warmth swelling in her chest. “Apologizing. Being… vulnerable.”
His smirk returned, but faintly. “Yeah, well. Vulnerability isn’t exactly my scientific specialty.” He leaned closer until their foreheads touched, his breath warm against her skin. “But if that’s what it takes to make you see how much I missed you, I’ll consider it part of the experiment.”
She chuckled, though her eyes burned with emotion. “You really think of everything in terms of experiments, don’t you?”
“Ten billion percent.” He replied, lips ghosting near hers. “And if the results are this good, I’ll keep running the same trial until I get a stable outcome.”
Kohaku gave him a mock glare, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her smile. “Stable outcome? You make it sound like I’m just another formula in your lab.”
“You’re not.” He said quickly, his tone cutting through her teasing with rare intensity. He pressed his palm more firmly against her cheek, his crimson gaze locking onto hers. “You’re the one variable I can’t control. The one thing in this whole insane world that throws off every calculation.”
Her breath caught. For all his brilliance, all his bravado, the honesty in those words struck deeper than anything else he could have said.
She swallowed, her voice softer now. “Then maybe you should stop trying to control it.”
Senku let out a dry laugh, though his hand trembled faintly against her skin. “You’re probably right. Not exactly my strong suit, though.”
They stayed there, foreheads pressed together, sharing silence as heavy and intimate as the moments before. Finally, Kohaku broke it, her smile widening.
“So… does this mean the great scientist is really apologizing to me?”
“Consider this my official statement.” He said, lips quirking. “For neglecting the strongest Lioness of the Kingdom of Science… I’m sorry.”
She tilted her head, mock thoughtful. “Hm. Not bad. But it still feels a little rehearsed.”
Senku groaned under his breath, throwing himself onto his back again, arm over his face. “Tch. What does it take to satisfy you, woman?”
Kohaku rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow so she could look down at him. “Oh, I can think of plenty of things. But for now…” She leaned down, brushing her lips gently against his. “This will do.”
Pressed against him, Kohaku allowed herself to relax fully, her head resting on his chest. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, still faster than normal, and it soothed her in a way words never could. For a long while, neither spoke.
It was Kohaku who broke the quiet this time, her voice thoughtful, almost shy. “You know… I don’t mind sharing you with your machines and your experiments. I knew, from the beginning, that science would always be your first love.”
Senku’s hand stilled in her hair. His crimson eyes flicked down to her.
“But...” She continued softly, fingers tracing idle patterns along his ribs, “I need to know I matter too. Not just as a warrior, not just as your partner in the field. But as… me.”
For once, Senku was silent. He didn’t reach for a witty remark, didn’t hide behind his usual smirk. Instead, he tilted her chin up so she had to look at him, his gaze sharp and unflinching.
“You do.” He said simply, but with a conviction that left no room for doubt. “More than any formula, more than any discovery. If the machine of time never gets built, if all of this collapses tomorrow… you’ll still be the constant.”
Her breath hitched, and she blinked rapidly, surprised by the sting in her eyes. She laughed lightly, covering it. “Damn you. Making me cry after everything? That’s unfair.”
Senku smirked faintly, brushing his thumb under her eye.
She let out a soft laugh, leaning up to kiss him again, slow and lingering. When they broke apart, she rested her forehead against his once more.
“I forgive you.” She whispered. “But next time, if you shut yourself away, I’ll drag you out by force.”
He chuckled, low and amused. “Fair enough. Just don’t break any of my glassware while you’re at it.”
She smirked, eyes glinting mischievously. “No promises.”
They stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped in each other, the exhaustion finally pulling at their bodies. Their breaths synced, their heartbeats slowly returning to normal. For once, there was no machine to build, no enemy to fight, no crisis demanding their attention.
Just them.
Notes:
And that's it. I hope you enjoyed it, and if you see anything that could be improved, don't hesitate to comment.
See you in the next fic.