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The moon hung low over the Ishigami Village docks, casting long, skeletal shadows across the Perseus.
Gen found Ukyo sitting on a pile of lumber, his head tilted slightly to the side. In the silence of the night, Ukyo could probably hear the heartbeat of every person in the village. He certainly heard Gen’s breathing long before the mentalist reached him.
"He's asleep, if you're wondering," Ukyo said softly, not turning around. "Tsukasa. His heart rate is slow, steady. Like a man with a completely clear conscience."
Gen let out a sharp, dry laugh and plopped down on the wood beside him. "Must be nice. I’ve forgotten what a clear conscience feels like. I think mine got buried somewhere under the first dozen lies I told to keep his empire from collapsing into a bloodbath."
Ukyo finally looked at him. The moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw. "He told you he regretted reviving you. I heard."
Gen winced, his theatrical persona slipping for a brief second. "Ah, the ears of the Kingdom of Science. Nothing is sacred. Yes, well, Tsukasa-chan has a very... direct way of saying 'I hate that I need you.' It’s the ultimate insult for him, isn't it? To realize that his perfect world of pure-hearted youths required a dirty magician like me to keep the peace."
"It’s not just you, Gen," Ukyo said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "He looks at me and sees a tool that refused to break. He looks at Yuzuriha and sees the evidence of his own cruelty. All those statues she had to put back together. We’re the living reminders of everything he wants to forget he did."
Gen pulled his knees to his chest, looking smaller than he ever allowed himself to appear in front of Senku. "The villagers... they're happy. They see a powerhouse. They see the power of combined science and might. But I spent a year looking into the eyes of the men Tsukasa gathered. I saw the ones who liked the smashing. I spent a year being the traitor so Senku wouldn't have to."
"And now the man who branded us that is our great warrior,'" Ukyo added. He gripped his bow tightly. "I still hear it, Gen. Every time it's quiet. The sound of the statues. It’s like a frequency I can’t tune out. Senku forgives because he looks at the math. Tsukasa is an asset. But you and I... we aren't looking at equations. We're looking at scars."
Gen turned to Ukyo, his expression uncharacteristically somber. "Ukyo-chan, do you think we're actually part of the Kingdom of Science? Or are we just the ones who stayed in the gray area so everyone else could stay in the light?"
Ukyo looked at the ship, then back at the village where Senku was undoubtedly still awake, tinkering with some new invention. "We’re the ones who know the cost," Ukyo said firmly. "And if Tsukasa ever decides his regret is worth acting on... we’re the ones who will hear him coming."
Gen reached into the folds of his overcoat and pulled out a small, slightly wilted flower. He twirled it between his fingers before letting it drop into the dark water below. "To being the best traitors in the stone world," Gen joked, though his eyes didn't crinkle at the corners like they usually did. "To being the only ones who remember," Ukyo replied.
They sat in silence for a while after that; two men who had betrayed a tyrant to save a scientist.
The silence between Gen and Ukyo was eventually interrupted not by a sound, but by a presence. A soft, rhythmic dragging of fabric against the wooden planks.
"You shouldn't stay out in the sea air too long," a gentle voice drifted over them. "It makes the thread brittle, and it's not much better for people, either." Yuzuriha stood a few paces away, clutching a heavy roll of canvas to her chest like a shield. Her eyes were tired, underlined by shadows that no amount of miracle water could wash away. She didn't wait for an invitation; she sat down on a crate across from them, the bulk of the cloth forming a physical barrier between her and the direction of the huts.
"You heard him too, didn't you?" Gen asked, his voice losing its playful lilt. Yuzuriha didn't look up. She began to pick at a loose thread on her sleeve. "I don't have Ukyo-kun’s ears. But I have eyes. I saw the way he looked at the village today. He looks at it like a garden that grew the wrong weeds."
"He told Gen he regretted reviving him," Ukyo said, his tone flat. Yuzuriha’s hands stilled. A small, sharp intake of breath escaped her. "He said that? After everything Gen-kun did to keep his people from starving or revolting while he was... away?"
"Apparently, efficiency isn't as pure as he likes," Gen sighed, leaning back on his elbows. "I’m a dirty reminder of the compromise he had to make. And you, Yuzuriha-chan... you're the one who spent months cleaning up his mess, piece by piece."
Yuzuriha looked down at her hands. They were calloused and stained with the resins and glues of a hundred different statues. "Every time I see him," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough to make Ukyo flinch, "I hear the stone breaking. I see the faces of the people I couldn't save in time. Taiju-kun... he’s so happy. He wants to believe that because Senku-kun said truce, the world is fixed. But I spent a year living in fear that Tsukasa would find the hidden shards. I lived every day wondering if today was the day he’d realize I was lying and... and do to us what he did to Senku."
She looked at Gen, her brown eyes shiny with unshed tears. "He thinks he’s the victim of his own ideals," she said with a sudden, rare spark of bitterness. "But we’re the ones who had to live in the world he broke."
"He thinks he can just step back into a position of power because Senku needs his muscles," Ukyo said, his hand straying toward the knife at his belt. "But the power dynamic has changed. He isn't the judge anymore."
"He’s a passenger," Gen added, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the ship. "A very dangerous, very strong passenger. But he's on our boat now." Yuzuriha stood up, smoothing out her skirt. She looked stronger than she had a moment ago, the shared admission of their trauma acting like a stitch holding a wound together.
"If he tries to purify anything else," she said softly, "he’ll find out that things put back together are often tougher than they were before they broke. We aren't the same people he woke up." Gen smiled then; a real one, sharp and a little bit dangerous. "No, we certainly aren't. We're the traitors. And we're very good at what we do."