Chapter Text
The gunshot cracked through the night, sickeningly sharp. For a heartbeat, the world tunneled into silence. Senku crouched low, fumbling to grasp his makeshift shield, gambling seconds he didn’t have. Untested theories against hardened steel, hypotheticals versus physics.
By all logic, the bullet should have been instant. Three thousand feet per second, faster than sound itself. His brain shouldn’t even have time to register impact. And yet time stretched, distorted, warped by the chemical surge screaming through his body. Norepinephrine, his mind whispered automatically. Fight or flight.
The bullet slammed into the bag of starch and water with the blunt force of a hammer, knocking him back past the bar. Wood splintered, fragments stinging across his skin as the Perseus groaned beneath the assault. His crew’s screams tore through the night. Cold air slapped his face, carrying salt and smoke. Fear sat heavier than the impact, but Senku knew that dodging meant stray shots. His allies would be slaughtered. He had to be the target. He had to gamble. Xeno’s men had to believe they’d struck true.
So he risked it all, clutching science like a lifeline, clinging to theory as though it were armor. And though he was no stranger to death, his human brain still screamed, terrified, as the world flared white.
The force shoved him across the deck. His skull cracked against the planks, teeth clacking hard with the impact. For one impossible second, hope bloomed. He was alive. He had done it. The sniper’s shot still echoed across the inlet and Senku was still conscious enough to comprehend it, still thinking, still-
Then the pain arrived.
It seeped in first as numbness, then detonated into fiery waves of agony. His chest heaved. No air. He gasped, convulsed, lungs spasming for oxygen that wouldn’t come. A cough tore up from his throat, weak at first, then violent.
Warmth spilled over his tongue. Iron flooded his mouth. He spat blood onto the deck.
Agony crescendoed, heavy and suffocating. Every breath drew lightning through his chest. Each cough wracked his ribs, splattering more red across the planks. The truth clawed its way through his panic.
He hadn’t stopped the bullet.
His hand went instinctively to his chest, scrabbling over fabric already soaked through. His palm pressed down, shaky and desperate, some fragment of rational thought screaming for pressure. He needed bleeding control if he wanted to survive. But another cough ripped it away, blood bubbling from his lips, spilling warmth down his chin.
It hurt. It hurt. And he couldn’t breathe.
Each inhale dragged blood deeper, pooling in his chest. Each exhale rattled wet and shallow. His body convulsed, drowning itself.
He was drowning. He was drowning in his own blood.
And then, mercifully, darkness swallowed him.
***
He didn’t stay unconscious for long. Muffled shouts dragged him back to awareness: Taiju’s panicked yells, Ryusui’s sharp, commanding orders. They were close. The planks under his body trembled as boots pounded toward him. Senku hovered in a semi conscious haze, eyelids half open, breaths coming in jagged, rasping pulls.
Then came a quieter pause. Voices softened. And the dull thunk of knees hitting the deck beside him made him start. Pain spiked through his chest, shooting through nerves already raw. But the weight of hands pressing onto his torso, forcing down on the wound, eclipsed everything.
A choked gasp slipped from him, and finally his eyes fluttered open. Chrome’s pale, shocked face hovered above him. Their eyes locked for a heartbeat before Chrome leaned further, pushing his full weight onto Senku’s chest. A groan tore from Senku’s throat, pain radiated in waves.
“Sorry,” Chrome whispered, hoarse and small, then turned to bark instructions. “He’s bleeding too much, and his breathing’s off. We gotta get him to the med bay!”
Strong hands grabbed under his shoulders and knees, hoisting him up none to gently. His back screamed. His chest screamed louder. He bit down to choke off a pained sound that wanted to escape. The sway of the deck and the sky above him made his vision tilt. A rhythmic drip-drip pulled his attention. It took him a moment to place it. Blood. His own, seeping onto the planks below. The thought shot a fission of fear through him.
Hands pressed again, one pair holding his chest, another ramming a rag to his back. Pain ricocheted through his body, threatening another black out. But it was the right thing to do. Pressure to stop the bleeding was step one in triage. He opened his mouth to tell them, but only a choked gasp came free, blood pushing past his tongue and down his chin.
Shit. This was bad.
Then logic sparked through panic. He knew the procedures… Well, in theory. His wound was probably less catastrophic than Tsukasa’s. Less lung trauma. They had stitched Tsukasa up when he was on his death bed. And they had made all the right tools then. Needles, sutures, forceps, things to cauterize, adhesive. There was a chance. A tiny, stubborn spark, that this wouldn’t end in disaster. Probabilities could go pound sand.
Another cough tore through him. Air met resistance. Wet, burning resistance. A lung was collapsing surely. Vessels and tissue had to be shredded. Black spots flickered across his vision. Sound warped. Still… a chance.
“Chrome,” he rasped, dragging another shuttering breath. Speaking hurt, but he refused to sink beneath the pain.
A shadow fell over him as they descended stairs. “Yeah, Senku?” Chrome’s voice broke, small and terrified. It sent a sharp pang to the heart.
“Someone… needs… to…Ngh! To run ahead.” Blood burst again with his cough, warm and metallic.
“Get ready. Sterilize — tools. Everything we u-used for Tsukasa.”
Chrome inhaled, and Senku felt the boy’s brain churning.
“Right!” he said, and the hands on Senku’s chest shifted as he barked orders to the others. Boil water, fetch alcohol, gather clean linens. Senku managed a bloodied smile. Good ol’ Chrome, steady in a pinch.
And now he needed to focus, to push past the drowning sensation at the edges of his mind. Pain pushing back.
Chrome, Ryusui, Francois, Kisaki, Yazuriha. He would need all their skills. But it was his brain that knew triage. His curious, stubborn brain, memorizing anatomy and physiology. It couldn’t shut down now.
Gentle hands eased him onto something soft. Stiff muscles relaxed into the mattress. The med bay buzzed around him like a medical battlefield. He drew a ragged, stuttering breath. A firm grip squeezed his shoulder. Chrome and Ryusui leaned over him, eyes determined, shadowed by fear.
“Stay strong,” the captain said. Confidence threading his voice. “Your crew’s got you.”
“Breathe as best you can,” Chrome muttered, replacing the sodden cloth. “We’re not gonna let you die. Promise.”
Through pain, through fear, through the blur of calculation and panic, Senku believed them.