Chapter Text
“Sniper spotted! Everyone get down!” Ryusui’s warning rang out so suddenly, half the people on the deck just stared uncomprehendingly for a moment, before scrambling frantically for cover.
Senku doubted their ship’s railing would save him from long-range rifle rounds, but he ducked behind it anyway, crouching next to Taiju as he scanned their surroundings for a sign of the enemy. Kohaku might have been able to spot the sniper directly in their hiding spot; Senku’s eyes found Luna instead, following her gaze out into the trees before he could think better of it.
He could almost feel the sniper’s optic locking in on him.
Idiot, he thought as he scrambled to his feet and dashed across the ship, calculating the best position based on the gun’s presumed location. Behind him, Ryusui shouted his name, but there was no time for hesitation. He could only hope Ryusui wouldn’t do the stupid thing and follow him—his own life was enough for Senku to worry about. At least Tsukasa was safely elsewhere.
Please, don’t let him follow me.
The thought repeated over and over in the back of his head as he improvised a flimsy hope for protection from a bag of starch and liquid, hugged it close and braced for—
The impact hit before the sound of the gunshot even reached his ears, flinging him backwards like he was one of Yuzuriha’s dolls. Pain tore through him, and some part of his brain registered that something had literally torn through his body to cause that.
Just his, though. Just his.
Even as pain mounted to agony, the worst of his fear eased amid a wave of relief. When the world darkened around him, for once, he didn’t feel the need to resist it.
No, no, no— Ryusui struggled against Nikki’s iron grip, desperate to get to Senku, to protect him somehow.
A gunshot fell. Everything went still.
No.
He tore himself free. It was too late, bullets moved faster than sound, but he ran anyway. Where—
“Senku!” His heart seized with panic at the sight of Senku on the ground, blood oozing into a puddle underneath him. In a heartbeat, he was on his knees at Senku’s side, frantically pressing two fingers to the side of his neck to feel for a pulse.
Overwhelming relief crashed over him, and he let out a wild laugh in spite of himself. He’s alive. He’salivehe’salivehe’salive! For a moment, Ryusui just sat there, bowed protectively over Senku’s too-still form, his fingers still on Senku’s pulse.
“Senku!” Taiju skidded to his knees beside Ryusui, startling him into sitting upright. “Is he—”
“He’s alive,” Ryusui said, as much for himself as for Taiju. He tried to fight the dread that was setting in again, but it was quickly becoming a losing battle. His knees were growing damp with warm blood. Senku’s blood, staining Ryusui’s hands, dripping down his arms as he carefully lifted Senku into them. “But he needs medical care, and quickly. Help me get him up.”
Taiju didn’t question him. Without hesitation, he jumped up to help Ryusui to his feet, steadying him when he swayed a little before finding his balance with Senku cradled close to his chest. Despite the obvious worry written across his face, he didn’t hover. Instead, he dashed off, yelling, “I’ll get Francois!”
Ryusui followed much more slowly, each step careful to avoid jostling Senku as he made his way towards the command deck. Yes, Francois. They would be able to help. They had to be, they were always able to help! Nevertheless, as capable as they were in a myriad of areas, Francois was still a butler, not a doctor.
He wished, irrationally, that Tsukasa were here. Irrationally, because Tsukasa would be just as powerless to save Senku as Ryusui himself; a warrior and a sailor—both the best of their kind, both useless when it mattered most.
Why didn’t we ever revive a doctor? he thought angrily. Desperately. He should’ve thought of it, should’ve insisted; a few more days wouldn’t have made a difference, not one worth dying f—
Senku stirred in his arms, causing Ryusui to reflexively tighten his grip. “Senku? Hey, can you hear me?”
Crimson eyes fluttered open, drifting unfocused across Ryusui’s face for a moment, before regaining a semblance of their usual sharpness. The sight alone made Ryusui want to cry. There wasn’t any time for that though—and the one person among them who came closest to a doctor was Senku himself.
He blinked the tears away and forced himself to ask: “How bad is it?”
Senku coughed weakly. “Hurts. Damage could be worse though.”
“We’ll get you patched up in no time,” Ryusui promised, as if they both didn’t know it was empty words.
“I’ve no doubt,” Senku replied, “but in the—” He was cut off by another, more violent cough, spattering fresh blood across both their chests.
With a spike of panic, Ryusui stopped in his tracks, squeezing Senku close. “Easy, easy. Don’t push yourself, I’ve got you.”
“You always do,” Senku rasped, his voice coming out uncomfortably wet, “but—”
“Stop talking.”
Senku raised a brow, looking far too commanding for a man on death’s door.
Ryusui held his gaze stubbornly. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is, probably something along the lines of ‘focus on the plan’; I don’t want to hear it. You just got shot, Senku! I’ll focus on you until you’re better.”
“They need a leader.”
“You’re our leader!”
“And we both know you’re better at it. This is our chance, I know you’ve realised that already.” Senku paused and drew in a long, rattling breath, like those few words had already been too much for him. He looked exhausted; it made Ryusui want to bundle him up in a blanket and hide him from the world—he resisted the urge valiantly, if you asked him.
Senku met his eyes again, then, and added, “There’s no time. They’ll fall apart without you.”
Ryusui scowled. Sometimes he hated when Senku was right.
A moment ticked by with only panicked shouting from the main deck to fill the silence between them, then Ryusui blew out a frustrated breath. “I’ll do it, but I have a condition. Non-negotiable.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“You won’t be a horrible patient. You’ll actually listen to Francois, take care of yourself and focus on getting better. If you want me not to focus on your well-being, I want your word that you’ll focus on it.”
Senku made a noise that was probably supposed to be outraged, but came out closer to pathetic. “That’s—”
“Senku! Ryusui!” Taiju was sprinting towards them with Francois on his heels.
“That’s my condition. Do we have a deal?”
A ghost of a smile played on Senku’s lips as he closed his eyes again. “Deal.”
Another surge of fear went through Ryusui when Senku went limp in his arms, but he forced it down. He just needed rest, it was fine. It had to be fine.
Francois couldn’t actually do much out here, so Ryusui continued his path to the command deck with Taiju walking in front of him to shoo panicked people out of the way. Senku had been right; they were already falling apart.
After carefully laying Senku on an improvised cot in the comms room, Ryusui forced himself to let Francois do their thing and focus on the promise he had made Senku; he did his best to get them back on track. He projected confidence, proclaiming that this was their chance to strike with every last bit of temerity he could muster—he buried his own unrelenting worry underneath a broad grin, forced out a bold laugh when Ginro assumed Senku was actually dead.
It worked almost too well. He wasn’t sure if he should be proud of himself, or angry at everyone else for letting him gloss over Senku’s near-fatal condition so blithely.
At least one person, though, wouldn’t be so easily mollified. While Ryusui hadn’t been around during the infamous Stone Wars, let alone before, he had learnt enough of the history between the two to know about Tsukasa’s broken and renewed promise to Senku. Tsukasa would consider Senku’s injury his own personal failure, his word broken yet again.
Which was nonsense, of course; it wasn’t like he could’ve done anything against a damned sniper. But Tsukasa was…well, Tsukasa. Although he seemed perpetually unfazed, Ryusui knew firsthand that Tsukasa wasn’t always as rational as he liked to pretend, especially where Senku was concerned. Now the chips were down, and it was anyone’s guess how he would react when he heard what happened.
Ryusui wasn’t exactly looking forward to him finding out. If Tsukasa flew off the handle and did something reckless…he didn’t think he could handle both of them in peril at the same time.
By the time Luna finished administering her frustratingly inexpert care, Senku was out cold again. The comms room was shrouded in eerie silence as Taiju and Francois packed away the remaining medical supplies; they had stayed back to assist Luna, while everyone else left to get started on operation aircraft carrier. Finally, Francois looked to Ryusui with an affirmative nod, before skilfully ushering Taiju and Luna out the door and closing it behind themselves.
He approached the makeshift sickbed slowly, as though one wrong move might tip the delicate balance Senku’s life hung in. Fear wrapped like chains around his lungs as he took Senku in.
He was even paler than usual, his face slack with exhaustion rather than the softness of sleep, his breathing laboured. But he was alive. That alone felt like a minor miracle, and if Ryusui knew any gods, he actually might’ve thanked them.
Despite there being myriad things to do, Ryusui settled on the edge of the table-turned-medical bed, taking one of Senku’s too-cold hands in his own, and simply let himself watch the steady rise and fall of Senku’s chest. Just a minute. He just needed a minute.
Time became a blur.
Before he knew it, the sky outside bled violet and rust—and Senku stirred awake.
Ryusui’s mind snapped back into razor-sharp focus, his attention zeroing in on Senku like a spot light. A slight scrunch of his nose, a twitch of his brows, then—finally—a flash of crimson as Senku blinked open his eyes, locking them on Ryusui’s with singular accuracy. A faint curl at the corner of his mouth, more fond than anything.
“Thought we had a deal.”
“I did my part, they can do the grunt work just fine on their own,” Ryusui told him. “How are you feeling?”
“Undecided if dying would’ve been nicer,” Senku replied, trying for a smirk.
Ryusui glared. “Don’t even joke about that.”
To his surprise, Senku didn’t double down. “Sorry. How is the attack team faring?”
Even through the casual tone, Ryusui heard the question he was really asking; How did Tsukasa take it?
“I haven’t had the chance to contact them.”
“What?” Senku arched a brow at him. “I must’ve slept at least a few hours.”
Ryusui didn’t squirm. Much. “You did.”
“Then how—” Senku paused, eyes narrowing. “Ryusui.”
“Senku.”
“They need to know.”
“Do they?!” Ryusui exclaimed. “Do they really? Think about it; it’ll only make them worry, and worrying will distract them, so, logically—”
“That’s ten billion percent bullshit, and you know it.”
Ryusui deflated. “He’ll do something reckless.”
“Tsukasa knows better than to jeopardise the mission,” Senku reasoned, but the confidence in his words rang hollow. He was clearly no less worried than Ryusui. Which, unfortunately, only hammered home how little choice there was. After a few seconds of stubborn silence, Senku resignedly spelled out why: “Chrome needs to know. They can’t waste time waiting on a road map from me.”
Damn Senku for being right all the time. Allowing himself a final dissatisfied huff, Ryusui yielded to the inevitable and rose to fetch the reference sheet for the Uesugi cipher. While Senku had the cipher memorised perfectly in his superhuman brain, Ryusui wasn’t about to let him waste energy on devising a message when he was just barely conscious.
“Alright,” Ryusui said when he returned with the cipher sheet, forcing optimism he didn’t feel into his voice, “let’s do this.”
A slight frown creased Senku’s brow, crimson eyes heavy with regret as he scanned Ryusui’s face, before opening his mouth to speak—
Ryusui cut him off with a kiss before he could even make a sound. There was something desperate about it, about the way Ryusui gripped Senku’s face to keep him from pulling away too soon—the way Senku didn’t try to pull away at all, pressing closer instead.
They both knew they harboured the same fears, hearing it confirmed wouldn’t make it any better. There was no way around it.
All they could do was forge ahead and hope that Tsukasa wouldn’t lose his cool.
Tsukasa saw red.
He generally considered himself a level-headed guy. He didn’t fly off the handle easily, didn’t lose all common sense in high stress situations, didn’t act rashly or without considering the consequences of his actions.
None of that held up.
When Ukyo shouted the words, “Senku’s been shot by a sniper!” the meaning didn’t register immediately in Tsukasa’s brain. What did register was the world tilting off its axis, coming apart at the seams; his world, crumbling into rubble, fragmenting like glass.
“Wait!” Ukyo’s voice sounded far away, like he was under water. “It’s okay…he’s alive!”
Breath streamed back into Tsukasa’s lungs, and a tempest of emotions ignited inside him like fire fuelled by oxygen. They assaulted him all at once, crashing over him like a tidal wave, pulling him into the maelstrom.
Senku had been hurt. Senku had been shot! Senku was hurt and Tsukasa wasn’t there—hadn’t been there.
Terror. Rage. Desperation. Guilt.
A singular thought pierced through the onslaught: Someone had done this. Someone had to pay.
He didn’t even realise he was moving until his path was blocked by Hyoga. An actual growl of anger escaped him. “Move.”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do…whatever it is you’re wanting to do,” Hyoga replied, infuriatingly calm.
“Get out of my way,” Tsukasa demanded.
“And then what?” Hyoga challenged. “You’ll storm the enemy’s fortress all on your own?”
Tsukasa didn’t dignify that with an answer, tightening his grip on his weapon. His body was brimming with tension, a tightly coiled spring waiting to be released. He was going to tear them all to pieces.
“Tsukasa, stop.” That was Kohaku. She didn’t approach, hovering a few steps away to the side, but it was obvious from her stance that she was ready to react to the slightest movement. “There’s no way you’d make it. You said it yourself; it’s too exposed.”
“We have a plan,” Ukyo reminded him.
“That will take weeks,” he hissed. Weeks in which Senku remained vulnerable with neither leverage nor Tsukasa for protection.
“Rushing in will only make things worse,” Ukyo insisted. “You’ll get yourself captured or, even worse, killed. How’s that gonna help Senku?”
Tsukasa ground his teeth together. He hated that they were right. “I’m going back to the Perseus then.”
“To do what, exactly? Act as a human shield?” asked Kohaku.
“He’s hurt,” Tsukasa snapped.
She took a step towards him, her expression softening a bit. “Being there to watch him suffer won’t make it any better. You’ll just feel worse that there’s nothing you can actually do.” She lightly laid a hand his arm. “We need you here; you can do something, here. That’s why Senku sent you.”
For a long moment, Tsukasa just stared at her. The tempest still raged inside him—urging him to do something, anything at all!—but he couldn’t deny her reasoning. Simple logic wielded like a whetted blade; the realisation that she was right cut deep.
He forced himself to take several deep breaths, struggling to put a lid on his emotions. Finally, with some effort, he said: “Fine. Let’s get moving then.”
Everyone visibly relaxed. Tsukasa wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or offended.
“Um, about the plan…” Chrome began hesitantly.
“There was another message,” Ukyo said. “47. 12. 42. Ku-Ro-Mu. Chrome; you’re our scientist now.”
Chrome blanched, then determination settled on his face. He looked to Tsukasa. “We’ll get into that fortress, I promise. And once we’re in…” He trailed off, but Tsukasa heard what he wasn’t saying.
Once they were in, Dr. Xeno would be at Tsukasa’s mercy the same way Senku had been at that sniper’s mercy.
Once we’re in, they’ll regret they ever got out of the stone.