Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As far as Ryusui is concerned, it’s a perfect day. 

The afternoon sun hangs high above the meridian, heating the coastline with a gentle warmth that’s hot enough to make him sweat but not hot enough to burn his skin. The water sparkles like diamond powder scattered atop the gentle waves. Cumulonimbus clouds exhale a salty sea breeze from due east, rustling through the folds of Ryusui’s collar and nipping playfully at his skin. He draws in a deep breath and lets the crisp wind fill his lungs, oxygenating his blood with the air of the ocean. 

A cacophony of busy chatter echoes from overlapping voices below his perch on the helm of the Perseus. Senku is determined for them to ship out to America within the next two days, despite their harrowing journey to Treasure Island only just barely coming to a close. Ryusui tried to argue with him that the crew deserved a much-needed break; yeah, that was a battle he fought and promptly lost. And if Ryusui had been planning to use that as an excuse to kick back for a few days too, that’s neither here nor there.

But right now there’s something special happening down below -- not that Ryusui is a part of it. As curious as he is about Shishio Tsukasa, he’s not so unchivalrous as to barge in on the emotional revival of their former enemy turned close ally. For how significant a figure he seems to be in almost every person in Ryusui’s life, it does strike him as odd that Ryusui can count the number of stories he’s been told about Tsukasa on one hand; one finger, even. Senku’s cursory explanation left a lot to be desired. 

Then again, when don’t they.

Well, he’s sure he’ll meet Tsukasa soon! Ryusui’s never been a patient person, but his sailor’s intuition is telling him with certainty that Tsukasa is someone more than worth waiting for.

And it sure is something, watching Tsukasa from afar a couple hours later as he tells the waiting crowd that villains won’t be allowed to ruin their ambitious plans to establish cities, and he’s able to quell any and all worries with three commanding words followed by uproarious applause. Even from a distance, Ryusui can bask in the energy that radiates off him: the strength, the charisma.

He’s got the aura of a leader, and a great one, at that. It’s the kind of fierce loyalty that can only stem from raw power and a righteous heart.

And Ryusui had really been looking forward to speaking to him one-on-one, but Tsukasa’s strong initial reaction to Ryusui’s declaration of a prize for the first person to spot land is cut abruptly short when Minami drags him away. When she and Gen try to tell him that he’s the type of person Tsukasa hates most, he responds that others’ negative feelings towards him won’t affect his love or desire for them. Minami doesn’t seem convinced. 

It’s not until late that evening that Ryusui is finally able to catch Tsukasa alone.

The daytime zephyrs have died down to a still twilight. Tsukasa is standing on the shore gazing up at the moon, and Ryusui honestly believes that every person is beautiful but Tsukasa stands in a category of his own. 

Pale blue light bathes his warm skin in a brilliant glow, rays of starlight catching in a flowing mane of hair the color of rich coffee or a redwood forest just before dawn. Impossibly long lashes cast indigo shadows over his high cheekbones, in perfect parallel to a jawline so sharp it could cut steel. The soft expression slipped over his features somehow isn’t incongruent with the way the rest of him carries an air of brutal elegance, majestic like a commander returning home from a victorious war.

His mother once told him this kind of flawless beauty is only awarded to those with equally beautiful souls. Ryusui never really knew what she meant by that, but now he finally gets it.

“Oi, Tsukasa!” Ryusui calls, and Tsukasa’s swift turn to face the sound of Ryusui’s approach rustles his cloak long enough for him to catch a glimpse of those muscles, and holy shit, Ryusui didn’t know there were that many in the human body until this moment. He makes the Greek gods Ryusui owned paintings of in his youth look like string beans dried out in the sun.

He reaches Tsukasa’s position after a short jog, and Tsukasa doesn’t stand above him so much as loom over him, and Ryusui’s always been a tall guy but he’s still not used to having to look so far up in order to meet someone’s eyes. There can’t be more than ten centimeters separating their heights, but Tsukasa’s imposing presence makes that short length stretch to the distance between Earth and the Moon.

“I’ve been dyin’ to meet ya!” Ryusui greets with a snap. “That was quite the speech you gave earlier.”

“I would hardly call it a speech,” Tsukasa replies with a gentle grin, and the way moonlight reflects off the pools of molten amber in his eyes is just unfair.

“Yeah, that’s the point!” Ryusui thrusts his hands to his hips. “Sometimes the real power in words lies with what’s left un said. Am I wrong?”

“Hm. Perhaps,” he agrees. Or--disagrees? He’s hard to read. He eyes Ryusui’s captain hat with curiosity. “I assume you’re looking forward to our voyage tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Ryusui groans with an animated gesture. “Is that when Senku said we’re leavin’? As captain, I’d say it’s more up to me than him, but...” He allows his sigh to taper off into a breathless laugh. “Well, you know how he gets.”

“I do indeed,” Tsukasa chuckles. “I didn’t think he was capable of still surprising me, but...the moon?” Tsukasa shakes his head as he turns his attention towards the distant celestial body. “I wonder if it’s equally crazy of me to have complete faith that he can do it.”

“Well then you’d have to call me crazy too, because so do I!” Ryusui declares with another snap. Not that anyone’s ever called him sane to begin with. “What’s that he always says? Science is all about carving a path to the future, one painstaking step at a time!”

“Something like that,” Tsukasa says. “It seems I’ve missed a lot during the time I was...”

“Dead?” Ryusui finishes with a snicker. Tsukasa’s smile is sheepish in response. “Hey, no use wallowing over lost opportunities. If your gaze is too locked on what you’ve missed in the past, you’ll only miss out on what lies in your future!”

“I suppose,” Tsukasa says, and damn if the fondness in his voice doesn’t make butterflies swarm in Ryusui’s chest. He might be the tiniest bit totally screwed. “But--before our discussion continues. I apologize for not mentioning this sooner, but I must admit...I don’t know your name.”

“Ah! How very rude of me not to introduce myself!” Ryusui exclaims, and absently wonders why Senku would leave that out. Their leader may be many things, but forgetful has never been one of them. He swipes his hat from his head and holds it to his chest with a bow. “Nanami Ryusui, at your service.”

Tsukasa’s eyes widen, and Ryusui swears he can see all of the warmth leave them in an instant. “Nanami...Ryusui?”

“Yessir!” Ryusui confirms as he returns his hat to its rightful place atop his messy hair. “Seems you’ve heard of me from before the petrification.”

“I have,” he says, voice as cold and intangible as dry ice.

Welp, that can’t be good. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but I can tell ya this much. You won’t meet anyone who can stand against my passion! I’ve never given up on anything I desire. I’m the greediest man in the world!”

“The greediest man in the world,” Tsukasa repeats, and he’s looking at Ryusui like he’s gonna be sick. 

“That’s right!” Ryusui replies. “So maybe we can get to know each oth--”

“It’s late,” Tsukasa interrupts. “I should be getting to sleep. I want to spend time with my sister before I have to leave her again.” His expression falters at the mention of his sister, and Ryusui can’t help the feeling that he’s missing something, something big.

“O-Okay!” Ryusui stutters, and it sure is tough to stuff his usual enthusiasm into his voice when Tsukasa is already walking away from him. “Goodnight, Tsukasa! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Tsukasa doesn’t reply.

Ryusui stands there in dumbstruck silence for a stupidly long time. He may be an optimist, but he’s not clueless; he knows what the rumors have said about him, but he doesn’t think he’s ever had a conversation take a nosedive so fast. 

Maybe this is what Minami meant when she said he’d hate me, he thinks with a frown. She’d said their ideologies made them like cats and dogs, and Gen’s offhand comment about his privilege in the old world means it isn’t hard to put two and two together.

Well, that’s okay! Ryusui meant it when he’d told Minami that he desires everyone regardless of their opinion of him, including Tsukasa. He can’t quite explain why this stings way more than it should -- and if his sailor’s intuition could please shut the fuck up, that’d be just great. Ryusui trudges back to his tent feeling like a million yen, which is admittedly a downgrade from his usual billion.

It’s only when he’s almost back to the camp that he hears hushed voices arguing somewhere nearby. He’s just about ready to give whoever it is some space when he notices one of them is Tsukasa, then he ducks behind the closest tree and peeks out to observe the scene unfold.

Yeah, he’s aware eavesdropping is rather vulgar. But he’s the greediest man in the world, and he has to hear what Tsukasa is saying to-- Senku, it looks like. Even in the low light, that ridiculous hair is a dead giveaway.

“--but you really had to revive the one man who would reintroduce capitalism to the stone world?”

“You’ve got him all wrong, Tsukasa,” Senku replies, in a tone both exasperated and placating. “Jeez, that guy has a real knack for getting people to misunderstand him. It’s not like he wants to hoard all that wealth for himself. His true desire is to spread it to everyone around him.”

“It is already spread around, without being owned by anyone.”

Senku huffs. “You really don’t see the merits of a currency system as a motivational tool for the human work ethic?”

“He was the one who established that?” Tsukasa balks, ignoring the rest of the question, and Ryusui kind of wishes Senku would stop making it worse. “There is no such thing as righteous avarice. Blind pursuit of greed only leads to exploitation of the innocent.”

“Just--just listen to me--”

“Senku.” Tsukasa cuts him off. “You know I trust you with my life. And I know you would never willingly bring harm to me. But to awaken and discover that the epitome of everything I once fought against has become one of the Kingdom of Science’s leaders is--”

Just pick an adjective, Ryusui says to himself, about thirty seconds after Tsukasa fails to finish his sentence. Anything’s better than trying to fill in that blank myself.

“Oil and water are one thing,” Tsukasa finally concludes. “Matchsticks and gasoline are another.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’d make an explosive combination--”

“Senku.”

“Fine, fine.” Senku scratches the back of his neck. “All I’m saying is that you two are more similar than you might think.”

“That is insulting,” Tsukasa growls. “The Nanami Conglomerate caused millions to suffer.”

The scientist folds his arms. “So does that mean everything they did is his fault?”

“It’s the sin of passivity,” Tsukasa insists. “Watching evil take place and allowing it to happen is nearly as bad as committing evil in the first place. Ryusui and the Nanami Conglomerate are no different.”

“Alright,” Senku begins, and he doesn’t sound convinced at all, which is honestly a welcome contrast to the fact that Ryusui is feeling seasick for the first time since he was four years old, and he’s still on dry land. “Then answer me something. Are your former subordinates equally responsible for your destruction of the statues?”

Tsukasa’s response is instant. “What? Of course not. They did not have the power to go against me, there is nothing they could have done to--” His voice snags against his throat. “Okay. I see your point. But regardless, Ryusui has carried those ideologies into this world untainted by monetary greed and capitalism, thereby reinstating the cycle that led to the exploitation of countless generations. Given the choice to leave it all behind and start anew or attain his former position of power, he selfishly chose the latter. Our worldviews are fundamentally incompatible, therefore so are he and I as people.”

“One impression, and you’ve already decided that?” Senku chuckles. “Tsukasa, I don't think there’s anyone with a bigger heart than that guy.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa shakes his head. “I will respect both his skill and authority as captain. And of course I understand that he is a precious friend to everyone I care about. But we do not need to get along in order to work efficiently together.”

Senku heaves a deep sigh. ”I dunno, man. If you actually give him a chance, I’m ten billion percent sure you two would really be somethin’ special.”

A few tense seconds of silence, but despite previous lulls in their argument it’s clear now that the conversation is over. Tsukasa spins on his heels in a swift motion, his lion hide cape billowing like a mainsail behind him. “I doubt it.”

Ryusui waits until both of them are gone before emerging from his hiding place. After the queasiness subsides, he finds that it’s rapidly being replaced by something almost like... excitement. His skin feels tingly all over, the same kind of itchy anticipation right before embarking a long voyage or a gunshot firing at the start of a race. He’s well aware that he should probably be dejected. The logical thing would just be to cut his losses and throw in the towel.

But since when has Ryusui ever done the logical thing? 

He thinks with his heart and acts with his sailor’s intuition. Ryusui has always loved a challenge, and this might be his biggest one yet. 

He’s never once given up on himself or anyone else. That sure as hell isn’t going to start with Tsukasa.

* * * {T-40} * * *

It’s kind of fitting that the first thing they hit is a storm.

It was smooth sailing for a grand total of three hours after cast-off before lightning struck the open ocean with an angry crack, shattering the pristine surface like a dropped mirror. The waters thrash the ship in a roller coaster of waves, tossing them skyward before plummeting them in stomach-lurching drops. Ryusui can’t tell what might drown him first: the violent sea, or the sheer level of human misery aboard the Perseus.

At least the poker game is a roaring success. Ryusui’s never really seen Senku complain much, but overhearing the hilarious earful he gives Gen about his own boyfriend betraying him is more than enough to ease the sting of the loss. 

He’ll neither confirm nor deny that this is the outcome they’d been aiming for all along.

Even more shocking is that Tsukasa had actually come to watch the game as well. He didn’t partake in any of the betting -- not a big shock, considering what Ryusui’s learned so far -- but the smug look he’d worn upon Ryusui’s defeat made it obvious who he’d been rooting for. 

It’s a welcome surprise to see Tsukasa at the newly-opened Bar Francois with the rest of the main crew after the game. He watches their boisterous antics with a soft smile from afar, gently swirling his tonic as he reclines against a stool in solitude. He seems perfectly content being alone.

So naturally, Ryusui slides into the stool next to him.

“What a game, huh?” Ryusui says, leaning languidly against the bar. He slants Tsukasa his trademark lazy smirk. Even flicks back his hat for good measure, now that he’s back in his uniform. 

Tsukasa’s changed from his usual cloak to a white button-down, and Ryusui really thought he’d mind the lack of skin but the way those buttons struggle to contain his broad chest is very distracting.

“You lost,” Tsukasa says flatly, grin melting into a frown. He straightens his tie to punish Ryusui’s wandering eyes. 

“Yeah, but it was still fun!” Ryusui counters. “Not everything’s about winning or losing. What’s that phrase again? It’s about the journey, not the destination.”

“Hm.” He returns his gaze to his frolicking friends. “The easy way out is a poor thing to be fighting for to begin with.”

Ryusui chuckles awkwardly. “Ahaha, perhaps! But the crew seems much more willing to put in the extra work this way. Am I wrong?”

Tsukasa glances at him from the corner of his eye. “Was that your...” He shakes his head. “If you didn’t think they would be willing to do whatever it takes from the start, then perhaps you don’t know them as well as you think you do.”

“Heheh, you would know what they’re capable of too, wouldn’t ya? Considering you fought--” He cuts himself off with a gulp at Tsukasa’s guilty grimace. Wow, great job bringing that up, fuck this up a little more, won’t ya? “Uh--yeah, I know. But it’s a morale thing! Better to work hard happily than break your back with a frown, right?”

Tsukasa studies him with a scrutinizing look, and Ryusui knows Senku recreated a microscope a long time ago but he never thought he’d feel like he was under one. That lionlike glare is slicing him into claw-thin pieces. “As long as it isn’t too distracting.”

“You’re a really focused guy, aren’t ya?” Ryusui says, taking a long swig of his drink. “A man of few words.”

“Aren’t you the one who said that sometimes the real power in words lies with what’s left un said?”

A rush of heat rises to Ryusui’s cheeks, and briefly he wonders if Francois somehow did manage to sneak some alcohol into his drink. He punctuates his surprise with a snap. “You remembered!”

“It was yesterday.”

“Hey, lemme have this. I’ve gotta take at least one win tonight,” he hums. “That’s high praise, comin’ from you.”

Tsukasa’s lips downtown. “I don’t think my acknowledgment is anything worth celebrating.”

“Oi, don’t undersell yourself.” He leans closer into Tsukasa’s personal space. Tsukasa narrows his eyes, but doesn’t move away. “One thing you should know about me: I’m an optimist. What about you?”

“I’m a realist.” Tsukasa sets his drink back onto the bar. “One thing you should know about me: my circumstances before the petrification would not have allowed for anything else.” Then he walks away.

Ryusui exhales a long sigh as he deflates onto the bar. Ah, ditched again. But it’s strange; Tsukasa doesn’t seem like the type to offer anything about his past unprompted. So why would he say something like that to Ryusui?

“Perhaps it has something to do with the reason he dislikes you,” Francois offers, reading his mind like they always do. Ryusui is convinced they exchanged gender for psychic powers. “What will you do, Ryusui-sama? Are you simply going to allow him to walk away?”

Ryusui really is no match for that knowing glint in their eyes. “Of course not!” he says, surging to his feet. “I’ll be back! Or not, if I’m super, super lucky!”

Ryusui zips out of the casino, ignoring the wave of turning heads at his hasty exit. He clambers up the staircase then rushes down the hall to the dormitory. Tsukasa is the only one back at this hour -- he’s already shed his shirt and tosses his cape around his sculpted shoulders just as Ryusui enters the room.

“What do you want?” Tsukasa huffs, without turning around, because of course he knows who it is without needing to look.

Ryusui barely resists the urge to say ‘ you!’ and instead manages: “Just wanted to update you on crew assignments. You’ll be manning the sails with me, first thing tomorrow morning!”

Tsukasa glances over his shoulder. He hops up to the top bunk in a single leap. “Very well, then. If that is my duty.”

“It certainly is!” Ryusui confirms. “I’m lookin’ forward to it. Goodnight, Tsukasa!” He stands in the doorway and waits expectantly.

Tsukasa sighs, realizing Ryusui is not going to leave until he says it back. “Goodnight, Ryusui.”

Ryusui beams the whole way back to the casino.

* * *  {T-39} * * * 

Ryusui wakes before dawn is even a thought in the sky, just a hazy blue idea somewhere just below the edge of the horizon barely visible through the slats of the window. 

He chose the bunk right next to Tsukasa’s -- and yeah, he’s fully aware that Tsukasa most definitely was not asleep when that happened, judging by the way he tensed up and pulled his pillow over his head -- but Ryusui is nothing if not determined. He prods at Tsukasa’s shoulder, earning him a sharp eye peeking out from beneath the blanket. 

“Mornin’, big guy! You ready for our first shift together?”

“First?” Tsukasa repeats, because ‘first’ implies there will be many, many more. He pushes to a seated position without complaint; it seems like Ryusui’s sailor’s intuition about this guy not being the type to let personal feelings get in the way of his duty was right. What he was nowhere near prepared for is how stupidly pretty Tsukasa looks with sleep-rumpled hair and heavy-lidded eyes through that fan of dark lashes. 

Tsukasa slips off the edge of the railing and thuds silently to the ground, swinging his cape around his shoulders in the short fall. “Of course.”

“Great!” Ryusui chimes. He climbs a little less gracefully off the top bunk and hops to Tsukasa’s side. “Let’s relieve Ginro and Matsukaze from the night shift.”

Both flights of stairs are ascended posthaste. The sky is dappled with a mosaic of gray clouds, fighting amongst one another for a place in the heavens. Matsukaze is poised diligently at the base of the front sail with an unwavering hand on his spear and an equally resolved glint in his eyes; Ginro is asleep against the mast, because obviously. Ryusui waves at them as they emerge from below deck.

“Ryusui. Tsukasa. Good morning,” Matsukaze greets, ready to give his report. “An uneventful night. Brief rain approximately two hours ago, but nothing more than a light shower. Judging by the recent increase in clouds, it may happen again. But you would be a better judge of that than I.” He nudges Ginro on the elbow. “Please wake up, Ginro-dono. It is time for us to retreat.”

“Who’s asleep?!” Ginro says, rocketing to his feet and promptly tripping over them. Ryusui’s loud cackle drowns out Tsukasa’s sigh. “I-I wasn’t asleep! I was up all night fighting the storm!”

“Thanks for your service,” Ryusui chuckles, smacking a hand against Matsukaze’s back at the warrior’s embarrassed expression. “But Tsukasa and I have got it from here. Get a good long rest, ya scallywags!”

Matsukaze offers a respectful bow as Ginro scampers off. 

Ryusui cracks up as Tsukasa glares daggers into Ginro’s retreating back. “Lighten up, won’t ya? There’s nothing wrong with a little relaxation!”

“When the lives of the crew are at stake?” he says incredulously. “As captain, I would’ve thought you’d be the first to understand that.”

“There’s nothing more important than the safety of my crew. But I trust in Matsukaze.” Ryusui wanders over to the base of the sail. “You’re actually really protective, huh? And it’s not just from a sense of duty. Am I wrong?”

“I owe everyone here...a great deal,” Tsukasa replies, in a tone much softer than Ryusui was expecting. “They are all admirable both as scientists and as people. If there’s something I can do to repay the kindness and forgiveness they have extended to me, then I consider it an honor to have that opportunity.”

“Whoa. That’s--” Ryusui gulps and turns away to avoid looking starstruck. “That’s really cool of you. You’re a good guy, y’know?”

Yeah, that’s followed by a long silence. When Ryusui finally peeks over his shoulder, Tsukasa is gazing off into the ocean’s infinite expanse with a strangely empty expression on his face, far too close to guilt or disbelief for Ryusui’s comfort. Despite how true it may be, Ryusui gets the distinct feeling that he really shouldn’t have said that.

“A-Anyway!” he stammers with forced cheer. “Lemme show you how to work the sails! I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it pretty qui--”

“I saw you do it yesterday,” Tsukasa interrupts, then yanks down on the shroud and unfurls the entire trio of sails in a single perfectly-executed motion. The subsequent wind swell blows back his cloak to expose the rigid cords of his muscles just as dawn breaks over the ocean, and Ryusui attains enlightenment for a solid five seconds.

“Ahaha! That strongest primate strength!” Ryusui snaps in approval. “I desire it!”

“Desire,” Tsukasa scoffs under his breath. That disapproving visage resurfaces on his flawless features. “Is that all that matters to you?”

“I’m simply the greediest man in the world. Nothing more, nothing less!” he asserts. “There are many kinds of desire. I want to acquire it all!”

Tsukasa’s grip on the rope tightens, and Ryusui can tell he’s holding back--something. Ryusui doesn’t know what. He’s not sure that he wants to know whether that shadow on his face is one of anger or heartbreak. 

“How fortunate for you, then, that you were born into a life that gave you that opportunity.” 

“Huh?” Ryusui tilts his head. “What do you mean by that?”

What passes over Tsukasa’s face is now all sorrow. Like a dark cloud swallowing the sun, it is soon obscured, replaced with vague disinterest and unconvincing stoicism. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“I want the answers,” Ryusui returns, even though he knows he’s not going to get them. Not yet. “I want to know everything about you!”

Tsukasa readjusts his cape on his shoulders. “That makes one of us,” he replies, and Ryusui can’t tell if he means that he doesn’t want to know everything about Ryusui or he doesn’t want Ryusui to know everything about him. Both, probably, but that doesn’t really explain the shame etched into his hard expression. “I...apologize. I don’t mean to antagonize you.” He heaves a long sigh. “But unless one of us changes who we are on a fundamental level, I don’t think we’ll be able to get along.”

“You’re wrong about me, Tsukasa,” Ryusui says with a weak smile it takes all his remaining energy to dig up. 

Tsukasa scans his face, searching for something Ryusui’s not sure that he has. He pivots swiftly on his toes and returns his hands to the rope, giving it a final tug to secure its position.

“Prove it.”

He says it like a dare. 

This is only the first step, right? Ryusui’s a total stranger to wallowing in self-pity, and there’s no need to get acquainted now. What’s that saying -- Rome wasn’t built in a day -- and neither was the Perseus, at that. If there is one thing that he’s learned from Senku, it’s that anything can be achieved as long as it’s pursued one painstaking step at a time.

He’ll win Tsukasa over, he’s sure of it. There’s nothing that can stand against his desire. 

* * * {T-36} * * * 

...except, maybe, the fact that Tsukasa seems fairly intent on having nothing to do with him.

After that first rocky day manning the sails together, then the next, then the next, interactions between them reduce to awkward silence during their morning duties followed by Tsukasa immediately excusing himself to train once his shift as watchman is over. Any and all attempts to strike conversation go over like a lead balloon -- and Ryusui knows what that’s like, courtesy of one harrowing ride in which Chrome tried to smuggle too many minerals into their makeshift aircraft. It reaches the point where getting a one-word answer out of Tsukasa feels like a feat deserving of a medal.

Ryusui hates to admit it, but he’s--a little stumped. But science is not something that must be pursued in a vacuum, and fortunately for Ryusui, the insight of the smartest man in the world is right at his fingertips.

Once Ukyo takes over the wheel at the end of Ryusui’s shift, he hurries straight to the lab. There’s no light peeking out from beneath the crack in the door; but his sailor’s intuition still tells him there’s someone inside. He shoves open the door with gusto, and the freshly-oiled hinges swing it hard enough to make a resounding crack as it collides with the interior wall.

“Senku!” Ryusui booms with a snap. “Ahaha, I knew you’d be here! I’ve come seeking your--”

“Shh!” Senku hisses, his focused gaze still glued to a beaker of some nebulous neon substance on the table before him. It’s probably poisonous. Ryusui’s found that a frightening number of chemicals Senku synthesizes are. “I’m trying to concentrate. Try to keep it under ten billion decibels, will ya?”

“Ah! My apologies.” He closes the door with a soft click behind him, until the only light remaining is the faint glow of an electric lamp beside Senku’s elbow. “Impressive chemistry as ever, oh wise science man.”

“Hmm...any man who praises another man to his face is either gay or full of ulterior motives.” He rests his syringe on the polished surface beside him, then meets Ryusui’s eyes with a listless expression. “I already know you’re pretty much the first thing. What else do you want?”

Ryusui’s face splits into a devious grin. “Figured me out, didja?” He plops down in a chair at the opposite end of the table. “I’ve come seeking your sagely advice.”

Senku leans back, resigning to his fate of being so rudely interrupted. “It’s about Tsukasa, isn’t it.”

It’s barely even phrased as a question. He says it like it’s an answer to one Ryusui hasn’t even asked yet. “You seem quite certain of that.”

“Yeah, because I’m right.” It’s just like him to never doubt himself. “I knew this would happen. It was less a hypothesis and more of a theory.”

“There’s a difference?”

Senku scoffs. “Of course there’s a difference, Captain Obvious. A hypothesis is a prediction made before any research is conducted, but a theory is supported by rigorous evidence and--”

“Senku.”

“Right, right.” He folds his arms across his chest. “So you’re wondering how to get him to stop pretending you don’t exist.”

“I don’t know how to approach him,” Ryusui admits. “He’s kind of closed off.”

Senku scratches his ear in boredom. “I mean, duh. The crushing psychological weight of killing dozens of innocent people then getting betrayed and murdered will do that to a person.”

Ryusui gulps. “...right.”

Senku leans forwards. “Have you heard the saying that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference?”

Ryusui hums in contemplation. “I have. Is that what’s happening?”

“No, that saying is stupidly wrong. He’s ignoring you because he totally hates your guts.” 

Ryusui can’t fight his scowl. Senku really never waters anything down. “Why?”

Senku waves him off. “Relax, it isn’t personal,” he begins. “I’m sure you’ve already noticed that he’s a good person. Even back when we were enemies, I never had any doubts about that. He’s come a long way with regards to the way he approaches his philosophy, but I don’t think he’s ready to accept someone so antithetical to his ideals quite yet.” 

“That’s why I’m going to be the first!” Ryusui declares.

The corner of Senku’s lip lifts into a smirk. “You must’ve had people hate you before. You’re so irritating,” he says, but the fondness in his voice belies the bite of his words. “Why does it matter if he does too?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Ryusui snaps for emphasis. “Because I desire him!”

Senku chuckles in response. “You’re just so dense, you don’t know when to give up even when there isn’t one millimeter of hope. You have the self-preservation instincts of unidentified roadkill.”

“Thank you!” 

“How could you possibly take that as a compliment?” 

“Because there’s nothing that can stand against my desire!” Ryusui replies. “If he hates all people like me, I’ll make it so he hates all people like me except me!”

“Heh. If you say so.” Senku offers him an amused grin. “In any case, do I really seem like the right guy to help with your romantic woes? Tell me the reasons you thought I’d be good at this so I can eliminate them.”

“They’re not romantic woes!” Ryusui denies, and it comes out much more flustered than he’d been expecting. Senku’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Besides, whatever do you mean? You’re the only person on the crew in a relationship.”

“Well, that’s not true. Gen is also in a relationship.”

“With you!”

“I don’t see your point.” Senku huffs. “But you... desire Tsukasa, right?”

“I desire everyone!” Well, Tsukasa is much larger than the average person, so of course it’s only natural that there would be a little more desire directed towards him! “But I want to understand him first. And for him to understand me.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell not going to make any progress trying to change his philosophy right off the bat,” Senku states matter-of-factly. “Do you think I built a cell phone by starting off connecting wire to a battery? No way, I worked my ass off doing the un-exhilarating task of collecting tiny metal flecks from the river. I think I permanently fucked up my back.” He gives Ryusui a withering look when Ryusui opens his mouth to speak. “If you crack a joke about wanting Tsukasa to permanently fuck up your back, I’m gonna make you walk the plank.”

“We don’t even have a plank!”

“I’ll build one.” Senku shoos him away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish mixing this poison for Gen.”

“Wait, to give him or to--” Ryusui cuts himself off. “Y’know what? I don’t wanna know!”

He exits the lab immediately, closing the door quietly behind him.

When he resurfaces, he discovers Tsukasa still where he’d been since their shift ended, only now his training is accompanied by Kohaku. She flips nimbly over his head and plants her feet on the rear exhaust pipe, twisting between his shoulders with calculated grace. Another swing of his weapon has her using his own power against him as she latches onto Tsukasa’s bicep and pivots herself up and around it, releasing his arm at the peak of her rotation to aim a clever kick at the exposed part of his neck. 

But Tsukasa is ready for her. A clocklike revolution of his spear has her foot colliding with the center pole, and only a flick of his wrist rockets her skyward. Tsukasa wraps a hand around Kohaku’s nearest ankle, capsizing her position, and when he releases her she falls back towards the floor and rebounds with a powerful handspring frighteningly similar to that of an Olympic gymnast.

Ryusui can just barely make out what they’re saying. “Good work,” Tsukasa commends. “Your evasive maneuvers are becoming more like hers. With diligent practice, you’ll exceed her gymnastics skills in due time.”

‘Her?’ Ryusui repeats internally, and vaguely recalls Senku speaking offhand about a gymnast who had aligned herself with the man who betrayed Tsukasa. Ryusui barely suppresses a frown.

“Hah! As if it’ll take me any time at all,” she replies confidently. “No need to go easy on me.”

“I’m not. You’ve become a formidable opponent,” Tsukasa replies with a warm grin, and ah, it’s so honest and caring and dignified, and Ryusui doesn’t know what he wouldn’t give to have it directed towards him. Tsukasa seems to catch movement from the corner of his eye. “I believe Chrome is calling for you. We can resume our training later.”

“Of course!” She swipes her weapon from beneath her feet with a determined expression. “And I won’t go easy on you either.” Then she springs off.

Ryusui is quick to take her place. 

He whistles through his front teeth. “That was quite the performance!”

Tsukasa props his massive spear over his shoulder. “It was not a performance.” He readjusts his cape. “Training is something to be taken seriously. We don’t know what dangers we’ll face when we reach the United States. She has to be ready.”

“I-I was just teasing!” Ryusui stutters. Fantastic, he’s messed up already. “What I mean to say is--it was impressive. You two are both crazy strong. It’s fun to watch!”

“Hm. Fun.” He appears a little less annoyed; rather, he seems to be smiling to himself about some unspoken memory. “Yes, I suppose some fights are fun.”

Oh, that’s unexpected from him. Ryusui wonders what fight he could be talking about. “That’s great! See, you get it. A dispassionate leader can’t get anyone to follow them. The best kind of leader is one who enjoys themself and inspires their people with enthusiasm! Am I wrong?”

Tsukasa shifts his gaze beyond the edge of the ship. “Perhaps.”

Ah, that ambiguous answer again. Ryusui scratches the back of his neck in contemplation, then recalls Senku’s expert advice. 

Start off with the little things, right? Ryusui’s always been a ‘go big or go home’ kind of guy, but he’s pretty sure any grand gestures would lead him to going home empty-handed.

“H-Hey, uh--” he begins, and Tsukasa’s attention returns to him. “That move you did with Kohaku where you launched her off with your weapon. Do you think you could teach me?” At Tsukasa’s hesitant expression, he continues, “It just seems like a helpful maneuver to be able to throw off a fast attacker like that! Y’know, since we don’t know what we’ll be facing in America, there’s a chance I’d have to--”

“I understand.” He rests his spear against the exhaust pipe. “I can teach you how to do it. But you should know that I wouldn’t allow harm to reach you in the first place.”

“You--” It takes Ryusui a second to remember how to speak. “Huh?”

Tsukasa’s eyebrows knit with concern. “Did you think my personal feelings meant I would not protect you?” He takes a step closer. “I would risk my life for any member of this crew. That includes you.”

Ryusui swallows hard. “Hey, don’t hate me more than you already do for saying this--” he starts with an awkward laugh, “--but you really are an amazing person.”

“It’s not that I hate you for saying it,” Tsukasa sighs, and Ryusui waits expectantly for him to continue, but then he drops it. “I was beginning to think those swords on your waist were just for show.” There’s something Ryusui chooses to interpret as a smile on his face.

“Ahaha! Not quite!” Ryusui says with a snap. “I dabbled in fencing when I was younger. Not that I was ever any good at it.”

Tsukasa gives him a curious look. “You’re willing to admit you’re not good at something?”

“Huh? What are you saying?” Ryusui says earnestly. “Of course I’m willing to admit it. I’m not good at lots of stuff! I can’t sing. I’m totally tone-deaf. I’ve fallen for every single trick Gen has ever played on me. I can’t fry an egg, or sew on a button, or hold a conversation about philosophy without getting a headache.” He pauses to give Tsukasa a wide grin. “And I suck at fencing.”

“Well. It’s a soft martial art.” Tsukasa bends his knees at the ready, but he seems distracted. Contemplative? Maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “This is a technique best demonstrated rather than explained. Come at me as quickly as you can.”

Ryusui clamps down on his tongue hard enough to make it bleed in order to avoid going straight to innuendo. “You got it, big guy.”

Alright, this is his chance to impress Tsukasa. He flicks off his hat and shakes out his hair, digging his toes into the ground through his boots as he prepares to surge forwards. A rapid contraction of his muscles has him speeding towards Tsukasa like an arrow shot by a master marksman -- then a lightning-strike draw of his weapons redirects his momentum towards the nearby mast. Ryusui hooks both sheathed swords around the structure, rotating around its circumference to gather enough speed to fly above Tsukasa.

Oh man, the surprise on Tsukasa’s face as Ryusui soars over his head is priceless, and that’s saying a lot for a man who has the power to buy anything. But the shock doesn’t last, and in an instant Tsukasa’s spear is in his hands again, spinning like a full moon beneath Ryusui’s feet. He connects the base of Ryusui’s heel with the flat side of the blade and throws him skyward.

Whoops. Didn’t plan this far ahead, Ryusui thinks as he plummets back towards the deck like a rock dropped to the bottom of a lake. He doesn’t have the kind of flexibility that Kohaku used when she rebounded backwards with her hands, or the reflexes for landing properly to recover from a hard fall, and ah, shit, he really hopes Tsukasa at least laughs when he totally eats it--

--but then a pair of strong and sturdy arms are underneath him, one around his back and the other beneath his knees. 

“Hm,” Tsukasa muses as he gazes down at Ryusui from where he’s pressed against his chest, and oh my fucking god, he’s holding me in a bridal carry like I weigh less than a feather is the last coherent thought Ryusui has before his brain short-circuits, good fuckin’ riddance. And Ryusui might be kind of delusional right now, but for a brief moment there doesn’t seem to be anything negative in Tsukasa’s eyes, just -- neutrality. A blank slate. “Not as bad as I was expecting.”

Ryusui manages a high-pitched laugh. “Hey, do you think you could bench press me?”

Tsukasa’s brows pinch. “I fail to see what you would get out of that.”

“Oh, I’d get somethin’ out of it.”

Tsukasa sets him back down onto the deck. Ryusui has to lock his knees to prevent his legs from turning into jelly. 

Ryusui tries to listen to Tsukasa’s following analysis of his movements, he really does. But it’s hard to focus when his heart is beating like a marching band drumline at triple speed. Maybe he wasn’t imagining it. Or maybe he was. But-- a blank slate . Even if there are still smudges and stains smeared over the surface, maybe now something new can be written on it. It’s something. It’s progress. Probably.

Ryusui smiles to himself, and decides that it is. He’s always been an optimist.

* * * {T-33} * * * 

It happens after a particularly wild night at the casino.

Which--okay, is most nights. Who can blame him? He likes to party! The lack of alcohol hasn’t slowed him down; it’ll be ready in a few days, and he’s of firm belief that it isn’t necessary for having fun to begin with. But Nikki had challenged him to a game of roulette that spiraled into a dance-off between them and Taiju, and then that somehow became an arm-wrestling contest with Magma he utterly lost, only to spin into a rap battle between Yuzuriha and Chrome that left Chrome in tears. The night concluded with a game of blindfolded darts that left about eight accidentally-on-purpose new holes in Yo’s body.

So yeah, he’s a little wiped. He finally trudges back to the ship’s dormitory somewhere around 4AM despite needing to be up by 5. Tsukasa had been sound asleep when Ryusui crawled into their adjacent bunks. Ryusui has yet to convince him to revisit the casino, but he has faith he’ll manage it soon. 

Exhausted or not, Ryusui would never dream of shirking his duties. He knew he’d be able to drag himself out of bed within a reasonable range of when he should be up and about.

What he was not expecting was the awakening he received.

“Ryusui,” a voice says from nearby. It’s calm and gentle, smooth and fluid like autumn rain on maple leaves. “Ryusui, please wake up.”

Ryusui hugs his pillow. “I’m awake,” he grumbles into it. “Five more minutes.”

“No more minutes.” A hand cards through his hair. “It was unwise to stay up so late when you knew you had to wake up early.”

“I know,” Ryusui groans, “but I couldn’t resist the opportunity to use Yo as target practice.” 

“Hm.” A soft chuckle. “An understandable temptation.”

“See? You get it.” God, he’s still so out of it. “Just-- just- -two more minutes.”

“Not unless you feel like being hauled out of bed.” Sheets rustle from across from him, and the hand rakes through his hair again. “I don’t know how to steer the ship.” 

“Being hauled out of bed sounds great, actually,” Ryusui says with a breathless laugh.

A defeated sigh. “I’m not doing that unless absolutely necessary.”

“Ahaha, then what motivation do I have to move if you’ll inevitably move me?”

“Ryusui.” His pillow is lifted off his face. “Please wake up.”

Ryusui opens his eyes to find Tsukasa leaning over him, his long, wild hair tumbling over his shoulders, vintage copper eyes gazing straight through Ryusui’s soul, and he’s very, very much shirtless. 

“Tsukasa?” he squeaks.

“Who else would it be?” Tsukasa replies with a confused frown. 

“No one!” Ryusui shoots to an upright position. “Shit, sorry. You should’ve just shaken me or something.”

“The human body isn’t meant to be woken abruptly. Had I done so, it would have thrown off your whole day.” He folds his arms across his chest. Ryusui is equally torn between begging him to please put on a shirt for his own sanity, or praying that he never, ever does. “You’re our captain. I’m not so inconsiderate as to actively impair your cognitive state.”

“R-Right. Uh, thanks. By the way, what was--” He tugs on the ends of his messy locks. “--that about?”

“Ah.” Tsukasa scratches the back of his neck. “That was how I used to wake my little sister for school. I apologize if I overstepped any boundaries.”

“No!” Ryusui replies, far, far too quickly. “I mean, no. You didn’t. It was fine. It was--nice.” Maybe a little too nice. It’d be dangerous to let himself get used to that. Ryusui clears his throat. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Ryusui’s still struggling with the buttons on his coat by the time Tsukasa is poised in the doorway waiting for him. The air is brisk this morning, only a few degrees above freezing and dry as a sand dune despite being surrounded by an oasis of water, like nature is giving him a slap on the wrist for allowing himself to be woken up so warmly.

Ginro wails in relief as the two of them approach him and Matsukaze. “We’re saved from being frozen alive!” he exclaims, then quickly backtracks. “Not that my valiant bodyguard and I need saving. We’re just at a normal level of absolutely miserable!”

“I see.” Tsukasa readjusts his cloak. “Sorry for our tardiness.”

“It is no trouble,” Matsukaze responds. There’s a wisp of a grin in the same crescent shape as his petrification scar. “It seems we both have blonde handfuls to look after.”

Tsukasa blinks at him; tilts his head ever so slightly in consideration. It takes a few moments for the statement to sink in, but when it does, Tsukasa starts to laugh.

And it’s entirely too gentle for someone almost two meters tall and built like a bank vault. It’s the kind of laugh that stems not from his lungs but from the center of his chest, branching throughout the nexus of his limbs until his whole body is laughing. There’s an innocent quality to it, almost childlike, as if it’s something he’s been missing out on and feels the need to catch up. It rings like silver bells or the nostalgia of wind chimes from a childhood home, and even though it’s a joke at his expense Ryusui still thinks:

Oh, he sighs internally. He has such a pretty laugh.

He desires to hear it again and again.

Ryusui declares it his mission for the day to make Tsukasa laugh like that again before sunset.

But beyond that, he has zero knowledge of Tsukasa’s sense of humor. He’s not going to make the mistake of turning to Senku for assistance again. No, there’s someone else whose speciality is in matters of the mind like this. 

He can never decide which of them is the worse half.

After his shift is over, he finds Gen perched atop the corner of the greenhouse, soaking up the midmorning warmth like a pampered housecat. The nippy breeze rustles through his two-toned hair, shock-pink coattails fluttering in tandem. 

He glimpses at Ryusui through half-lidded eyes. “Greetings, Ryusui-chan!” he beams with that signature false grin. “You look troubled.”

Ryusui exhales a long breath. “It’s that obvious?”

Gen taps his temple. “Perhaps not to everyone. But painfully so to me.” He slips his hands into the sleeves of his kimono. “Would you like me to list your tells?”

Oh god, no. “Do as you please. I’ve got nothing to hide!” he bellows instead.

Gen levels him a knowing stare. “In all one of your brain cells?”

“Ahaha! Who needs brain cells when I’ve got my sailor’s intuition. Am I wrong?”

“Are you?” Gen says with a casual shrug. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Talking with Gen is either a sprint or a marathon, with no in-between. Both are equally exhausting. Better cut to the chase. “Can you tell me what you know about Tsukasa’s psyche?”

“Oh, dear,” Gen tsks. “Which trauma should I start with.”

Ryusui frowns. “How many are there?”

Gen gives him a look that makes Ryusui kind of not want to know the answer. “Is there something specific you’re seeking?”

Just his approval. And friendship. And affection. Squeezing his chest would also be a really great bonus. “I’m trying to make him laugh.”

“Hmm.” Gen taps his fingers to his chin in mock contemplation. “Have you considered diving face-first into a pile of barrels? That might do it.”

“Oi, don’t mess with me! I’m asking an earnest question here.”

“Seriously?” Gen drawls. “Well, if you’re intent on trying a different approach, I’ve got many tricks up my sleeves.” He tosses a handful of flower petals for good measure. “Why don’t you begin with a nice joke?”

“A joke?” Ryusui repeats. “What kind of joke?”

“One other than your every action!” Gen suggests. Ryusui officially decides Senku is the better half. “Here, come closer. I’ll give you my best arsenal, all for free, from the kindness of my heart.”

Gen whispers an array of various jokes to him, appealing to a wide range of humor. They’re all...kind of corny, and he can’t help the feeling that Gen is most definitely messing with him, but damn if he isn’t going to give it his best shot.

He pads over to where Tsukasa and Kohaku are training. They’re chatting amongst themselves, a relaxed expression slipped over Tsukasa’s features. It tenses almost imperceptibly as Ryusui approaches, and he tries (tries, tries) to keep the disappointment out of his expression.

“Hey, Tsukasa!” he calls, hopping up the staircase with cheer that overcompensates for it. “I have something to ask you.”

Instantly, Kohaku perks up. She nudges Tsukasa with a devious grin and is promptly swatted away. She and Ryusui exchange a single glance and she offers a discreet thumbs up -- oh my god, I have a wingman. He’s immediately reminded of the Spice Girls song about seeking approval from the best friend.

“What is it?” Tsukasa asks, setting his weapon on the mast beside him. Kohaku springs up to crouch on the exhaust pipe. 

“What did the ocean say to the sand?” Ryusui prompts.

Tsukasa pinches his brows. “What an odd question. Did you hit your head this morning?”

Kohaku bursts into laughter. He takes back the wingman thing. “No, it--it’s a joke!”

“Hm.” Tsukasa seems puzzled. “Where was the punchline?”

“I haven’t even said it yet!”

Tsukasa gestures for him to continue. Ah, at least he’s humoring me. Even if Ryusui isn’t humoring him.  

“Nothing,” Ryusui finishes. “It just waved.”

Ishigami Village must not have had dad jokes in the Hundred Tales, because Kohaku laughs so hard she busts a blood vessel. 

Tsukasa offers him a consoling look. “Clever.”

Ryusui huffs. Okay, take two. “Hang on, I’ve got another.” He clears his throat. “There are three types of people in the world: those who can count, and those who can’t.”

Tsukasa stares at him blankly. “Are you forgetting a third thing?”

It’d be funny that Tsukasa doesn’t get conventional humor, if there weren’t something strangely sad about him not understanding schoolyard jokes. “That’s the punchline!”

“Oh.” He can barely be heard over Kohaku’s riotous laughter. He’s smiling, but it’s a little...embarrassed. “Ah, I get it. That’s clever, too.”

Not enough to make him laugh, it seems. But it’ll take a lot more than this to deter him! Ryusui flicks back his hat with a snap. “Well! Do resume your training!”

Kohaku waves in between trying to catch her breath. Tsukasa offers a curt nod before retrieving his weapon.

Ryusui scampers off. He returns to the front deck of the ship, where Gen is draped languidly over the rail of the ship, an unbothered mask on his face.

“Oi, mentalist! You knew that wouldn’t work!”

“Mm...I did.” He drums his manicured fingernails against the damp wood. “But believe me, it was really amusing to watch you.”

“Ahaha! I’m pleased I could make at least one person laugh!” he declares with a snap. “But I’m still intent on Tsukasa. Do you have any more ideas?”

“I seriously think you should reconsider my first suggestion,” Gen sighs. “But if you’re insistent on another approach, how about a practical joke?”

“I love practical jokes!” Ryusui starts, and then, “but I’m wary of irking him in any way. I’m trying to get him to like me!”

“Like you?” Gen hums, a shrewd grin on his face. “In what way?”

“A-Any way!” Ryusui stutters. “I desire him!”

Gen’s smile widens without getting any closer to his eyes. “I see.”

Ryusui gulps, then deeply regrets asking Gen for help with this. 

His luck either soars or plummets at the arrival of their science captain to the helm of the ship.

“Senku-chan!” Gen sings as he skips over to his boyfriend. “Our brave captain here is trying to make Tsukasa-chan laugh, with little success as of yet. It’s tragic.” He clasps a dramatic, insincere hand to his chest. “The poor boy is so hopeless.”

“Pfft.” Senku smirks when Gen latches onto his side like a koala. “That’s what I said.” 

Ryusui frowns. “Huh? When did you say that?”

“Oh, I said it to Gen earlier. You weren’t there.”

Ryusui smacks his forehead with his palm. Fuck, he hates couples. “You guys both suck!”

“Thank you!” Gen chimes. “We try.”

Yeah, it works. Ryusui is about to return to work when Senku holds his fingers to his forehead in his signature pensive pose.

“Hang on.” Senku beckons the two of them closer. “I have a brilliant idea.”

Gen sighs. “My dear, I’m not helping you set anything on fire again.”

“Again?!” Ryusui repeats.

“Don’t ask.” Gen fiddles with his kimono sleeves. “Alright. Which formation this time?”

“Formation B!” Senku declares.

Ryusui darts his eyes between them. “Wait, what’s Formation--”

Then the two of them plant a firm hand into either one of his shoulders, shoving him backwards across the ship, careening him straight into a carefully-stacked tower of barrels full of freshly-harvested harvested wheat.

Dammit, this was his plan all along! It was his first suggestion, and why was it Senku’s brilliant idea as well? What’s with their gay telepathy?! Ryusui really stood no chance. “Ow, Gen! What the hell was that fo--”

But behind him, Tsukasa bursts into loud and open laughter, much more sudden and honest than even his first time this morning.

Ryusui thinks he sees a new color.

* * * {T-29} * * * 

“Ryusui-chan! Tsukasa-chan!” Gen’s voice calls, once high noon tolls like a clock tower in the cloudless cerulean sky. “I’ve a message for the two of you!”

Ryusui and Tsukasa exchange a curious glance. Another beat, and they swiftly cross the length of the Perseus to meet him. 

“What can we do for ya?” Ryusui chirps with a cheerful gesture, and tries to ignore the way using ‘we’ makes his stomach do a backflip. 

“I have a special task for you straight from Senku-chan,” Gen hums. “He wants you to go to the lab and develop the recent film from Minami’s camera.”

“He wants... us to do that?” Tsukasa wonders aloud. “You’re certain of this? I’ve only seen the process performed once.” He glances at Ryusui. “Have you any more knowledge of it?”

“Not a bit!” Ryusui says with a snap. “But it can’t be too hard, right?”

“That’s correct!” Gen confirms. “The developer fluid is already prepared. Simply load the film onto the reel and agitate it once the fluid is at the right temperature, douse it in a stop bath, then rinse!” His lips quirk into a sly grin. “But of course, the room must be very dark for the process, so as not to spoil the pictures.”

Oh. So that’s what’s happening. Ryusui suppresses a smirk so hard his cheeks hurt.

“I suppose we can manage that,” Tsukasa says, still mulling over the task. Ryusui bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

“We better get going, right?” Ryusui urges. “Everyone’s lookin’ forward to those new pictures!”

“Indeed! You seriously need to hurry!” Gen sings. “Ah...you’ll be confined in a dark room all alone together...whatever shall happen...?”

Ryusui is definitely not imagining the faint red tint on the tips of Tsukasa’s ears. “If you insist.”

“I insist, I insist!” Gen says. “Now shoo!” 

Gen drifts away, leaving Ryusui and Tsukasa by themselves with their new mission.

Ryusui strides eagerly towards the entrance to the lab. “Ahaha! We must begin posthaste!” 

Tsukasa shakes off his hesitation and returns to Ryusui’s side, the two of them walking in unison towards the deck entrance to the lab. “What I do not understand is why Senku would ask us to do this,” he says. “Would Chrome or Ukyo not be much more suited for this type of task?”

“Who knows?” Ryusui replies with a shrug, and hopes his feigned cluelessness sounds convincing. It’s challenging to hide anything from Tsukasa’s perceptive senses. “Perhaps he wants us to gain more valuable scientific experiences. You never know when knowledge like this might come in handy! Am I wrong?”

“Hm.” Tsukasa swings open the door hatch and readies himself to climb down the ladder. “I suppose not.”

Ryusui’s mouth splits into a wide smile. “Hey, you actually agreed with me!”

Tsukasa offers him the ghost of a grin. “Is that so surprising?”

“I mean,” Ryusui begins, and doesn’t bother finishing his sentence.

Tsukasa is silent until they’re both inside the lab, then swings the hatch shut to close the gap in the ceiling. “It would be foolish to claim you’re wrong about everything.”

“Just most things, right?” Ryusui chuckles. “Ahaha! You got me there. I excel at being wrong. I embrace it!”

“Let me quote something for you.” Tsukasa clears his throat. “‘The cleverest of all, in my opinion, is the man who calls himself a fool at least once a month.’” He lifts the film left for them on the table. “Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote that.”

“Who?” Ryusui repeats, then-- “Wait, are you saying I’m clever?!”

“Those jokes weren’t half bad.”

“I--” Ryusui gulps. “I, uh, I didn’t come up with them.”

Tsukasa is silent for a moment. “Why would you admit that?”

Yeah, it’s a shame he had to admit that. It’d be nice to have Tsukasa’s praise, but... “Because honesty is important!” he declares. 

Tsukasa’s pupils dilate. “You...” He strolls over to the lightswitch. “I see.”

An ironic thing to say right before he flicks off the light.

It takes a few seconds for Ryusui’s eyes to adjust to the near-darkness. The lab materializes into existence in dull, hazy outlines, shadows of equipment overlapping dim refractions through chemicals like a drawing that hasn’t been shaded right. Tsukasa’s chiseled figure fades to a silhouette, undulating softly, the plush fur of his cloak blurring into his untamed mane of dark chocolate hair.

It’s almost totally quiet in the lab; the only sounds remaining are the faint clicks of Tsukasa unrolling the film reel and the heavy thudding of Ryusui’s heart. Emboldened by the darkness, and the convenience that Tsukasa can’t see the nervousness painted in watercolor across his face, Ryusui inches closer, until their elbows are almost touching. He can feel the heat radiating from Tsukasa’s body. It’s too much.

“Hey, Lion King,” Ryusui purrs, trying to keep his voice steady through the all-consuming desire, “you ever heard the saying, ‘eat the rich’?”

Tsukasa doesn’t reply for about thirty seconds, but it feels like thirty-seven hundred years. “‘Lion King’?” he echoes.

“Y-Yeah,” Ryusui stutters. “Y’know, like the Disney movie. You’ve heard of it, right?”

“I have,” Tsukasa answers. “I watched all the classic Disney movies with my sister before she--” he cuts himself off. “It was my personal favorite.”

“Mine too,” Ryusui decides, at that moment. He nudges Tsukasa with his elbow. “Reminds me of you.”

“Hm.” More silence. “Captain Hook from Peter Pan reminds me of you.”

“Oi! Captain Hook?!” Ryusui repeats. “I’m not evil!”

“Debatable.” Ryusui can hear the smile in his voice. “Well, that’s the only pirate I know.”

“C’mon, there are way better ones,” Ryusui whines. “How about Jack Sparrow from Pirates of the Caribbean? Cunning, charismatic, and adventurous! An irreverent trickster. The man desired by the whole world!”

“The whole world?” Tsukasa repeats. His hair rustles against his cloak as he shakes his head. “Very well, then. Let me know if I have to find you a parrot.”

Ryusui beams so brightly he thinks it might spoil the film. “You do have a sense of humor!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ryusui can’t fight back a giggle. “Oh, actually, I take it back. I’m totally Prince Charming.”

Tsukasa snorts. “Prince Charming.”

“Absolutely!” Ryusui declares. “A handsome lord who rules the kingdom through love.”

“Rules through love?” Tsukasa doubts. “I’m fairly sure that’s not how that works.”

“Sure it is!” Ryusui replies. “Hey, now I get to quote something for you. Some old guy named Machiavelli wrote it in a book about how to be a prince.” Ryusui patches together his best impression of a stately Renaissance man. “It is better to be feared than to be loved.’” He stirs the bottle of developer fluid. “Personally, I think that guy had it backwards! It’s way better to be loved than feared. I love everyone, and I want them all to love me!”

Tsukasa slowly unrolls the film. “You love everyone?”  

Ryusui nods. “Everyone!”

“Even me?” Tsukasa says sarcastically.

“Of course I love you!” Ryusui says, genuinely. 

Tsukasa chokes on--air, or something. “What.”

“I love you!” Ryusui says again, for good measure.

He’s said it a million times. He’s said it to his family, to his friends, to his lovers, hell, to random strangers who pass him by on the street. But the way Tsukasa’s breath hitches as soon as the statement leaves his tongue and hangs in the air between them -- it feels so personal, less like a declaration and more like a confession, like something that should be whispered between the sheets or scrawled onto a handwritten letter accompanying a bouquet of roses.

“I...apologize,” Tsukasa eventually manages, and Ryusui doesn’t even know what the hell he thinks he’s apologizing for. “It’s just been a long time since anyone has said that to me.”

“Seriously?” Ryusui folds his arms. “I’ll say it every day if you want me to!”

“That--” Tsukasa grinds his teeth. “That isn’t necessary.”

“O-Okay.” Ryusui tries to shake off whatever weird tension settles in the room. “Anyways, I think being a prince would be fun.” He prods Tsukasa on the shoulder. “I’d be great at valiantly rescuing damsels in distress. Am I wrong?”

“Surely you’re not implying I’m a damsel in distress.”

“Nah,” Ryusui says, though he files the mental image of kissing Tsukasa at the stroke of midnight into his frighteningly long list of Tsukasa-related fantasies. “Y’know, back when I was younger, I used to read tons of fairy tales about royal kingdoms. Naturally, I always pictured myself as the prince.” Honestly? He still does. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret. I always thought the knights were the ones that were really special.”

Tsukasa slips the cap on the roll of film. “How so?”

“Well, first off, it’s not a position you’re just born into,” Ryusui starts. “It’s a choice. A noble declaration of loyalty to accept the role of a dignified warrior until the end of your life. It’s the strength of both body and spirit to bravely charge headfirst into battle no matter what the enemy, be it a sorcerer, or an army, or a fire-breathing dragon. It’s an undying pledge to protect something you love more than yourself.” He accepts the roll of film when Tsukasa hands it to him. “That’s you.”

Tsukasa audibly gulps. “That’s your opinion of me?”

Ryusui can only sigh in response. “Tsukasa, that’s everyone’s opinion of you.”

A disbelieving chuckle. “Hm. I’m not so sure about that.”

You know, Ryusui says to himself, I’m beginning to wonder if the only person who doesn’t think that about you is you.

“Ah, but isn’t it a romantic notion?” Ryusui muses, in lieu of saying his true thoughts. “A knight willing to lay down their life for the prince.”

“Well,” Tsukasa begins, crumbling the castle walls in the most tender siege of any legend ever written, “I’ve already told you I’d do that.”

Ryusui utterly freezes. He has to wiggle his fingers to confirm he hasn’t been turned into stone. “Right,” he croaks, and shuts off his brain to stop the wishful thinking that would only hurt him in the end. “I guess you did.”

They continue working in silence after that. Once the procedure is complete and the film receives its final rinse, Ryusui stumbles his way back to the lightswitch.

“Any guesses for what the pictures are of?” he asks.

“Perhaps...Senku working in his laboratory?” Tsukasa responds. “Or Ukyo atop the searchlight?”

Or just tons and tons of you, Ryusui thinks. For such a sharp man, it’s kind of funny that he doesn’t seem to notice just how hard Minami is pining.

“Well, let’s find out!” Ryusui snaps, flicking on the light, then his heartbeat grinds to a halt the moment his eyes land on the first picture. 

“Is that--” he chokes, “--us?”

It can’t be from more than a few minutes past dawn. Rays of newborn sunlight scatter the black-and-white clouds into abstract prisms, peeking out between the gaps of a retreating storm like a trident. Ryusui and Tsukasa are poised beside each other at the helm of the ship, their backs to the camera, glowing around the edges as if lit from within. Ryusui’s cape and Tsukasa’s cloak overlap one another, the tips of the fabric tangled together. 

“Ah.” Tsukasa’s voice is a little hoarse. “This is a nice picture.”

Ryusui perks up. “...you think so?”

He lifts it up so Ryusui can get a closer examination. “Good photographic composition, don’t you think?”

Ryusui lets out a breathless laugh. What can he even say? “Yeah, I guess.”

Tsukasa flips to the next image. “It seems there are two.”

“Oh, maybe that was an accident.” Ryusui takes one of them and fishes it into his pocket. “W-Well, I’ll keep one! And if you just want to toss the other, I won’t be insult--”

He interrupts himself when Tsukasa places the other into the small pocket beside his belt. “That would be a waste.”

“Ahaha, I suppose. You hate that stuff, right?”

“Wastefulness? Yes.” He flips his cape over his shoulder as he prepares to climb the ladder. “I’ll inform Senku we’ve finished his task.”

“Great,” Ryusui exhales. “Uh, see you later.”

“I’ll see you later.” Then he ascends back to the upper deck.

Ryusui flops onto the lab table, emotionally drained.

When evening falls, Ryusui finds himself with another mission.

Just a quick one. Ukyo had asked him the quick favor of visiting the weapons room to retrieve more arrows for his quiver: Yo swiping his bow and attempting target practice with passing seagulls lost more than a few to the open ocean. Especially given that he didn’t manage to hit even a single one of them.

So before dinner, Ryusui pads down to the armory and heaves open the heavy wooden door. The air smells of rope and weathered metal, dust motes winking in and out of existence as the metal glints the scant light that finds its way into the room back and forth.

Tsukasa’s massive dual-ended spear is hard to miss. Just for the hell of it, Ryusui tries to pick it up -- holy shit, this thing weighs almost as much as I do. Yeah, no success there. But before he puts it back, something catches his eye.

It’s a small collage of pictures. Most of the Kingdom of Science’s main crew is present: Senku cackling while holding some vial of viscous liquid, Gen tugging on his coat to prevent him from pouring it onto Taiju’s head. Yuzuriha is waving at the camera in between sewing a tear in Chrome’s coat; Chrome is sitting beside her looking charred from some botched experiment. Ukyo and Suika are pictured having a picnic atop the searchlight tower. Nikki, Magma, and Kohaku are excitedly clashing blades. Even Ginro, Kinro, and Matsukaze occupy a corner.

But none of that is what makes Ryusui’s breath snag in his throat.

He falls asleep that night so happy it sits in his heart like pain.

* * *  {T-22} * * * 

It takes Ryusui a whole week to finally convince Tsukasa to go to the casino with him.

And he practically has to drag him there. But Tsukasa lets himself be dragged, and that’s so much a victory in itself that Ryusui genuinely doesn’t think he’ll care if he loses every other game tonight. 

The alcohol finally finished fermenting the day before, so the casino is packed tonight as well. Half the crew turn out to be lightweights. The other half end up in contests for who can hold their alcohol the strongest. Ryusui is fairly sure Yo has been plastered for 24 hours straight. The air reeks of beer and gunsmoke.

“Francois, surely we’re almost out by now?” Ryusui says upon entering.

“Not even slightly, Ryusui-sama. I prepared for this situation,” they reply, and Ryusui grins proudly, because of course they did. “In fact, I’ve concocted a variety of flavored beers I am planning to serve the crew tonight. Is there a specific type you and Tsukasa-sama would like me to reserve?”

Ryusui glances over his shoulder expectantly to see Tsukasa politely shaking his head. “Thank you for the offer, Francois, but I don’t drink.”

“Well I certainly do!” Ryusui says to his butler enthusiastically. Francois rolls their eyes with a fond smile. “What’s on the menu?”

They place a filled glass on the bar wordlessly. Ryusui swipes it from the countertop and takes a long swig. “Ah! It’s strong!” he declares. “What is this flavor? I desire it!”

“It’s my own personal blend.” Francois swirls the liquid around in the mug, inspecting it with an expertly-scrutinizing glare. “It still requires fine-tuning.”

“Tastes perfect to me!” Ryusui adds a snap to punctuate his words. 

Francois passes him the mug. “Then perhaps you should enjoy it this evening. Slowly, I recommend. You are very right that it’s...strong.” Then they spin back around to attend to the rest of the guests’ drinks. 

Ryusui swipes the mug from the counter and swivels to face Tsukasa. “So,” he begins, “where to first?”

Tsukasa wraps his arms across his chest beneath his cloak. “I’m open to recommendations.”

Ryusui wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Ooh, that’s dangerous.” He tries to prevent his mind from wandering and isn’t particularly successful. “Can I interest you in a game of poker?”

“Hm.” Not a particularly eager response. “Maybe another time.”

“You’re already planning our next trip to the casino?” Ryusui teases, and Tsukasa turns up his nose. “How about Baccarat?”

“I haven’t heard of that one.”

And it’s tough to learn. Ryusui taps his fingers against his mug. “Ah! How about roulette?”

“Roulette,” Tsukasa repeats pensively. “Well, alright.”

“Ahaha!” Ryusui claps in approval. “Then let’s play. It’ll be fun, I promise! Francois, prepare the table.”

“Already on it.” They march to the table with a sense of purpose then signal the two of them to begin the game. “Are you familiar with the rules?” they ask Tsukasa.

“I am.” He assumes a confident stance. “But I have one condition. I don't want to play for money.”

“Okay, I can accept that.” Ryusui drums his fingers against the table in contemplation. “But we need stakes, or it isn’t thrilling! How about strip roulette?”

Tsukasa gives him a flat glare. “I wear three articles of clothing.”

Ryusui’s face slips into a provocative grin. “Believe me, I’m well aware of it.”

Tsukasa clears his throat; brings his hand to his face to hide the flush that blooms like roses in spring on his cheeks. “We’re not doing that.”

Bummer. Ryusui briefly wonders if playing footsie with your opponent under the table is against the rules.

“I have a brilliant idea!” he exclaims. “How about truth or dare roulette? Loser of each round is subjected to the whims of the victor. We’ll use chips to determine the magnitude of the bets. How about it?”

Tsukasa quirks a brow. “You should know that I have no intention of losing.” A casual toss of his cape over his shoulder reveals a slice of tan skin. Ryusui can’t help but stare. “I accept your challenge.”

“Great!” He makes a sweeping gesture to the occupants of the casino, which comprises almost the entirety of the main crew. “Gather around, ya scallywags! Get ready for the show of a lifetime!”

The first to the sidelines are Gen and Senku. Their grins can only be described as shit-eating. “Senku-chan,” Gen crows. “Your preliminary analysis, if you please?”

Senku leans against the edge of the table. “This is ten billion percent going to be a disaster.”

“A trainwreck you can’t look away from,” Nikki agrees. 

“How about Russian Roulette?” Yo slurs. Someone needs to take away his gun.

Kohaku plucks it out of his grasp. Thank fuck. “Hah! My bets are on Tsukasa. None can predict movements like him!”

“Kohaku-chan, I do loathe to point out--” Gen begins. Do you? “--but blindly placing faith in your closest friend is seriously not the ideal way to measure gambling odds.”

Kohaku smacks him upside the head. Yeah, he was kind of asking for that.

“My bets are on Tsuka-san too!” Minami giggles, surprising no one. 

“Whoa, what’s this?!” Chrome adds. Kinro, Ginro, and Magma are wearing similar expressions of intrigue. “This seems like a damn awesome game!”

“I don’t understand it in the slightest!” Taiju bellows. Ukyo cleans out his ear to recover from the rapid increase in volume. Yuzuriha chuckles beside them. “But Ryusui is a master of the casino! He won’t be defeated at a time like this!”

“Enough chatter,” Francois orders. “Place your bets for round one.”

Fifty chips are stacked in front of each of them. Ryusui drags his fingers across the carved wooden surface; turns them over in his hands, feels his sailor’s intuition whisper to the goddess of luck. He shoves ten chips to the edge of the board. He’ll start broad. “Always bet on black.”

“Is that so?” Tsukasa ponders. He observes his chips with an indecipherable expression, then eventually pushes an equal number to the opposite side. “Then I will go with red.”

Ryusui snaps in command. “Spin it, Francois!”

“As you wish, Ryusui-sama.” 

The wheel spins like a ballerina. At the pirouette’s finale, Francois dips into a bow to read the number. “28 Red.”

Ryusui curses. Off to a real strong start.

But Tsukasa’s wearing a victorious smirk, and instantly Ryusui doesn’t give a shit about losing this round. “It seems I’ve won.” He hauls the chips to his horde. “Red bet. Double chips. And of course--” He meets Ryusui’s eyes with a mysterious glint in his own. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Ryusui slants a smile that flashes the white of his teeth.

Tsukasa points at the mug beside him. “Chug your entire glass of beer in a single gulp.”

“Ryusui-sama,” Francois warns, “that is unadvisable--”

“Noted!” Ryusui replies, then knocks the mug down his throat.

Oh my god, it burns. The rush of liquid sears through his windpipe and expands a firework of heat in his chest, spreading throughout the channels of his veins until it stings in his eyes and he loses feeling in his fingers. He can’t tell if his head is spinning or swimming -- only that his vision clouds with black spots and the world shifts on its opposite axis, throwing him into vertigo. Once the mug is empty, Ryusui slams it down onto the table and wipes a thin trail of saliva from the space between the glass and his lips.

“Refreshing!”

The spectators erupt into riotous cheer. Sure doesn’t help the pangs wracking his skull, but even though he lost the bet it feels like a triumph. Ryusui rubs his temples with a spirited laugh.

“I’m going to get you back for that!” he declares. Tsukasa’s looking like he just dismantled the government. 

“You can try,” Tsukasa hums. More squeals from the crowd nearby.

“Second round,” Francois cuts in. “Place your bets.”

Ryusui stares down the roulette wheel; it’s a little fuzzy in his vision, but he’s got a clearer sense this time. He drops twenty chips onto the second inner section of the board. “First dozen.”

Tsukasa taps his finger against his chin. “A bold choice, given your loss.” He slides his own chips onto the horizontal edge. “Second column.”

Francois spins the wheel. Ryusui’s eyes stay glued to its rapid rotation despite the nausea that surges in his stomach. 

The crowd watches with bated breath as the ball stops.

“10 Black.”

“Ahaha!” Ryusui cheers, and Tsukasa winces. “My win!” He flicks back his hat. “Truth or dare?”

Tsukasa contemplates for a moment before responding. “Truth.”

Whoops and hollers echo throughout the casino. The crew decides then that they want to participate.

“Ask him who he’d bitchslap on the Perseus!” Magma suggests.

“No! I don’t wanna get bitchslapped!” Ginro whines. Well, at least he’s self-aware.

“Find out his type of woman!” Minami begs.

“What’s his greatest regret?” offers Chrome, and Tsukasa visibly cringes. Yeah, I’m pretty sure we all know that one.

“When did he stop believing in Santa Claus?” Ukyo says.

“Santa Claus isn’t real?!” Taiju shouts.

Oh boy. “Thank you all for your wonderful suggestions!” Ryusui acknowledges with a snap. “I’ve been struck with inspiration. Listen closely.” Better start tame. He’ll make Tsukasa regret this later. “Tell me what you miss the most from before the petrification -- and nothing so boring such as cell phones or computers. I want to know something small that was nonetheless meaningful and important to you.”

Whispers amongst the crowd make crazy guesses for what Tsukasa’s answer will be. Ryusui holds up an authoritative hand to silence their speculation.

“Hm. The blue raspberry slurpee from 7-Eleven,” Tsukasa eventually responds.

Ryusui barks out a laugh. Whatever he was expecting, it sure as hell wasn’t that. “What?!” he blurts out. “Were you even allowed to have that as an MMA fighter?!”

“No,” Tsukasa says with a gentle smile. “It was a guilty pleasure.”

It’s just not fair to hear something like that from Tsukasa. Ryusui drags his tongue suggestively across his lips, the lingering taste of alcohol smearing over the plush sweep of his cupid’s bow. “You should never feel guilty about pleasure.”

Unexpectedly, Tsukasa’s face burns crimson. Ryusui can’t help but push harder, like pressing on a wooden bridge just to see if it’ll break. “Triple chips. Give it to me.”

Tsukasa squeezes his eyes shut and shoves his chips across the board. Ryusui cackles like a supervillain.

“Hush, Ryusui-sama,” Francois commands. Ryusui’s always found it funny when people are surprised they boss him around. “Place your bets for round three.”

Tsukasa scrutinizes the board with a calculating face as Ryusui drags his eyes aimlessly towards the ceiling. To hell with strategy. His true specialty has always been doing whatever the fuck he wants. “Street,” Ryusui announces. “19 through 21.”

More chatter amongst the crowd. It’s Tsukasa’s turn to silence them with a withering glare. “Corner,” he decides. “2-5-3-6.”

“Very well.” Francois spins the wheel.

Ryusui has really gotta stop watching it. He feels like he’s gonna pass out. He feels like he could stay awake forever. 

Francois peers at the board with a self-satisfied appearance that makes Ryusui wonder if they’re truly impartial in this. “20 Red.”

“Yes! Victorious again!” Ryusui thunders. His devious grin must be occupying half his face. “Truth or dare?”

Tsukasa grinds his teeth. “Dare.”

The Peanut Gallery can’t help but chime in.

“Do a pole dance around the mast!” Nikki shouts.

“Spank him!” Minami squeals.

“Mix two random chemicals from the lab and drink them!” Ginro says.

“Uh, yeah, there’s a ten billion percent chance he’d die from that,” Senku says in a bored tone. “But that’d be hilarious.”

“Senku,” Tsukasa says flatly, and doesn’t continue after that. The scientist erupts into laughter.

But Ryusui’s still riding the high from earlier. There’s no way he can resist making it worse. “Hit me with the worst pickup line you know,” he commands. “And you gotta really sell it.”

“Fuck.” Tsukasa looks like he’s gonna explode. “You do realize I had many... enthusiastic fans.”

“Exactly,” Ryusui replies. Maybe Captain Hook was the right nickname for him. This is so evil it’s delicious. “So you must’ve heard some real freaky ones.”

Tsukasa inhales a deep breath to compose himself. He drifts from his place opposite the table and approaches Ryusui until the two of them are almost pressed together; he hitches the tip of a finger beneath Ryusui’s chin and tilts it towards his own. He meets Ryusui’s eyes with a dark, sultry expression, heavy-lidded through his veil of gloss lashes, and instantly Ryusui knows he’s utterly fucked. 

“Hey, Prince Charming,” Tsukasa purrs, fluffing the plume of lion fur around his neck to expose the sharp dip of his collar, “there are 206 bones in your body. Why don’t I put in one more?”

Ryusui bangs his fist on the table. Oh god, this was a terrible idea. “Ahaha!” he squeaks, digging his nails into his palm so hard he draws blood. His organs feel like they’ve been liquefied. “Th-That’s a good one!”

The crew goes wild. Minami seems to genuinely faint. Chrome blushes so hard there might as well be steam coming out of his ears. 

Gen gasps in mock surprise. “Tsukasa-chan! How bold!”

“Was that supposed to be exhilarating?” Senku scrubs his temples. “Tsukasa, you bastard. I can never unhear that.”

“Why would you want to?” Ukyo snickers.

Ryusui can’t decide if he desires to unhear it for his own sanity or save it on a glass record to play on repeat for the rest of his life. 

“Moving on,” Tsukasa urges as he returns to his spot. Ryusui dies a little inside. “Francois. Please spin the wheel.”

“Tsukasa-sama, you haven’t placed your bet yet.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa clears his throat and answers so quickly it’s probably a thoughtless guess. “Doublestreet. 13 through 18.”

“Becoming more daring, aren’t we?” Ryusui teases. “Corner bet. 23-24-26-27.”

“Noted.” Francois resumes the game.

The crowd collectively holds their breath as the ball rolls to a halt. Ryusui doesn’t look until the uproarious applause starts.

“14 Red,” Francois reveals. “Your loss, Ryusui-sama.”

“Sixfold chips,” Tsukasa says, but the mischievous expression etched into his features makes it painfully clear that he doesn’t care about that at all. “Now, then. Truth or dare?”

Ryusui bites his lip. “You better take proper revenge, Lion King,” he challenges. “Dare.”

“Ask for his credit card number!” Yo demands.

“Idiot, that disintegrated centuries ago,” Senku reminds him.

“Make him let you be captain for a day!” Kohaku suggests.

“Have him tell his most embarrassing story!” Chrome says.

“No, that wouldn’t work.” Tsukasa’s smirk could rival the devil’s. “He has no shame.”

Even the stoic Kinro can’t help but holler at that one. It’s tough to deny it; not that Ryusui would try. He’d let Tsukasa do literally anything he wanted to him in front of everyone at the bar.

“Well?” Ryusui prompts. “What’ll it be? I promise I can take it.”

Senku face-palms. Gen hides a devious chuckle in his kimono sleeve.

“Awfully confident, are you?” Tsukasa provokes.

“Of course I’m confident!” Ryusui says. “What reason would I have not to be?”

Tsukasa pauses, examining Ryusui up and down with an unreadable expression. “Hm.”

Well. Great. Ryusui loses a year off his life. He nudges Gen with his elbow. “That was psychological warfare!” he hisses to the mentalist.

Gen gives him a catlike grin. “Ryusui-chan, I seriously wouldn’t know anything about that!”

“You’re fired!” Ryusui says pointlessly. He shifts his attention back to Tsukasa. “Decide already. I’m on the edge of my seat.”

Tsukasa flips his cape triumphantly. A hush falls over the room.

“I dare you to burn all of the cash in your pockets right now.”

Ryusui swears he can feel his jaw physically hit the ground.

“What?!” Yo shrieks. “Ryusui, you can’t!”

“Do it!” Yuzuriha encourages.

“Don’t even think about it!” Ginro wails.

Ryusui’s head falls back in laughter. “Ahaha! Someone grab me a match!”

Yo bursts into tears as Senku darts out of the casino and returns a few minutes later with a freshly-made set of matches. “Try not to kill anyone,” he instructs.

Ryusui empties his heavy pockets onto the nearest table. “Everyone make a wish!” he booms. He strikes the match, gives it one last fan to feed the flame, then drops it onto the stack of money.

And it immediately bursts into flames, igniting the most expensive funeral pyre of all time. The fire pops and crackles with wayward sparks, heat emanating from the burning cash as the thick scent of burning paper chokes the air. The casino is doused in amber light that extends the shadows of its occupants into long, intermingled blotches, seeping into the cracks between the walls and weathered floorboards until there is nothing left untouched by its illumination.

Ryusui swivels around with a proud, expectant look at his opponent. 

“Mm. Toasty,” Ryusui says.

“You’re not upset?” Tsukasa chuckles.

“How could I be upset?” Ryusui beams. “You should see the smile on your face right now. I’d pay anything for that.”

The warm glow of the fire melts beautifully into the vermillion dust scattered across Tsukasa’s cheekbones. “How foolish.”

“Aren’t you the one who quoted that a clever man calls himself a fool at least once a month?” Ryusui strolls back to the table. “I, Nanami Ryusui, am a complete and utter idiot.”

Tsukasa shoves the rest of his chips onto the furthest end of the table. “I know.”

“Betting it all on 0?” Francois says incredulously.

And how could Ryusui possibly not match that level of gutsiness? He shoves all his chips to the opposite end of the board. “Straight bet. 36.”

“You two idiots realize the chances of it landing on anything other than those two numbers is stupidly high, right?” Senku chuckles. 

Ryusui smirks so hard it exposes his gums. “Don’t underestimate Francois.”

“Wait,” Tsukasa says. “Why don’t we decide the penalty beforehand?”

“Took the words right outta my mouth.” Ryusui swipes his captain’s hat from his head, presses it to his chest, and slips his eyes shut. “Loser has to jump off the helm of the Perseus and go skinny-dipping in the ocean.”

The cheer from the crowd is so deafening Ukyo has to cover his ears. 

“You’re on,” Tsukasa accepts. “Francois. The grand finale, please.”

Francois spins the wheel without another word.

God, Ryusui can’t even look. He transfixes his gaze on the dying flames, dark flecks of ash swirling like a dust devil from the last vestiges of the scorched fortune. The rickety turning of the roulette wheel slows and dips in octave, until a final reverberant clack seals his fate.

“Ryusui-sama,” Francois says evenly, and Ryusui doesn’t have to ask for the result. “My deepest apologies.”

“No need to apologize!” Ryusui declares with a snap, shredding off his cape and dropping his swords onto the floor of the casino. “I promised you lot the show of a lifetime!”

Chants of enthusiastic encouragement overlap from the crew. Ryusui marches towards the door, and his thoughts are swimming in the depths of the sea, drowning out his surroundings to a dull roar echoing like waves in his ears, sloshing against his brain and eroding the last of his inhibitions.

“Tsukasa,” he says, peering over his shoulder with an inviting smirk. “Come with me.”

Tsukasa pauses; widens his eyes near-imperceptibly. He stills, exhaling a short breath, and Ryusui’s just about to turn around and accept his destiny when Tsukasa grips a hand into the mane around his neck and tosses his lion-hide cape from his shoulders, casting it haphazardly onto the bar.

“Very well.”

Ryusui forgets how to speak.

How the two of them make it to the top deck without tripping as they shed their clothes along the way is a feat beyond scientific understanding. The crew follows closely behind, cheering and wolf-whistling as Ryusui laughs so hard his lungs ache. When they reach the edge of the ship, they each plant a determined foot on the upper railing, exchange a single unhinged Cheshire grin, then leap into the ocean.

The water is near zero degrees, but Ryusui might as well have jumped into an active volcano with the way his blood boils like molten lava the moment they plunge together into the sea. When they come up for that first gasp of air, cackling their hearts out, there might as well not be anything in the world other than this. Lightning could strike the open ocean and he wouldn’t even notice. 

“Tsukasa,” Ryusui says with a breathless laugh. “I promised you it’d be fun. Was I wrong?”

“Ryusui,” Tsukasa says fondly, and they’re so close that one more gentle wave would make them touch. “You were right.”

* * * {T-20} * * * 

Hyoga’s revival really throws him off.

Not that Ryusui had known him to begin with. They’ve had a grand total of two interactions: one, when the Perseus was first boarded on the voyage to Treasure Island, and Ryusui wanted to know who he was letting onto his ship; and two, during the final fight against Mozu when Senku declared the only way they could win would be to use their forbidden joker. Hyoga hadn’t even looked at Ryusui back then. He was re-petrified less than half an hour later.

All in all, Hyoga’s said maybe four words to him. Ryusui was perfectly fine with that.

To say that walking back on deck from his evening crew meeting only to see Hyoga sparring with Tsukasa is an unwelcome surprise would be the understatement of the millennium.

The real cherry on top is seeing Mozu beside him, crossing blades with Matsukaze as if nothing about this situation is weird at all. As if they weren’t all mortal enemies ten hours ago.

Senku is leaning languidly against the opposite mast, watching the four men train with vague disinterest. Ryusui marches right up to their science leader and jabs a finger towards the masked warrior.

“Senku, this man is giving me bad vibes.”

Senku waves him off. “Relax. He’s ten billion percent not going to try anything funny.”

“Why is he even unpetrified to begin with?!”

“Oi, it wasn’t my choice. Tsukasa asked for him.”

Ryusui staggers back. “Tsukasa-- what?” He casts another bewildered glance in their direction at a metallic clang that tolls like a church bell at a funeral. “But wasn’t he the one who--”

“Sure was,” Senku replies, in a tone that indicates he doesn’t care. Ryusui can’t tell if that’s genuine or not. “But Tsukasa requested him for weapons training.” He cleans the outer rim of his ear with his fingernail. “Besides, it’s not like there’s anything we can do about it.”

Ryusui pinches his brows. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Pfft. Have you seen him?” Senku gestures casually towards Hyoga’s twelve-pack. “All I’m saying is that if Tsukasa says he can keep that guy in check, then we’ll just have to trust him.”

Senku doesn’t mean anything ill by it, Ryusui knows. He’s direct with his words, but never hurtful. So it really isn’t Senku’s fault that all Ryusui hears is:

‘You have no way to protect Tsukasa from him.’

“Well, that’s not my wheelhouse,” Senku sighs, shoving off the mast. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get back to my moron.”

“Yeah, tell Gen I say hi, or something,” Ryusui muses, barely listening. Senku tosses him a lazy salute without turning back around.

Ryusui watches them train until the jewel-toned twilight fades to an oil-spill night. Pinpricks of stars puncture the velvety fabric of the night sky, bright beams of celestial light half-obscured by a thick blanket of clouds coagulating in the heavens. Only a sliver of the moon remains tonight, shrouding Tsukasa’s bare skin like an angel’s veil, intangible and correction-fluid white. 

Ryusui pulls him aside once the four fighters begin their descent into the dormitory.

Literally, he might add. He clasps a stalwart hand around Tsukasa’s wrist, and any other time it’d be hard to ignore the way his fingertips can’t even connect around its muscular width but right now he can’t look anywhere but Tsukasa’s face.

“Hey,” Ryusui falters, with so poor an imitation of calm that it has the opposite effect on Tsukasa, “what the actual fuck?”

Tsukasa stops in his tracks. “Excuse me?”

“Why’d you revive that guy?”

“Oh.” Tsukasa rests his spear on the railing beside them. “I apologize. It’s your ship. I should have consulted you first.”

When it’s clear that Tsukasa is done speaking, Ryusui squeezes his fists. “Not only are you completely right about that,” he grouses, “but you didn’t even answer my question.”

“You spoke with Senku, did you not? There’s nothing more to it,” Tsukasa explains. “If Matsukaze is to attain his full potential as a warrior, I need his assistance as a weapons instructor.”

Yeah fucking right. Ryusui eyes the massive dual-ended spear Tsukasa wields like an extension of his own body. “Okay, so that’s bullshit.” He folds his arms across his chest just to find something to do with his hands. “What’s the real reason?”

Tsukasa takes half a step back. “That... is the real reason.”

“No it’s not,” Ryusui declares, and it’s strange how sure of that he is. “Even if he’s marginally better at armed fighting than you, there’s no way the benefits outweigh the risks.”

“There isn’t much risk,” Tsukasa tries. “He’s the very best at what he does. It’s as simple as that.”

“Simple, my ass!” Ryusui repeats, and hadn’t even realized he was shouting until the echo off the metal exhaust pipe smacks him in the chest. “Tsukasa, he betrayed you!”

Tsukasa sets his jaw. “Yes, I remember that.”

“And that doesn’t bother you at all?!” Ryusui argues. 

Tsukasa says nothing. 

Oh, Ryusui thinks, because Tsukasa can’t even hold eye contact with him anymore, much less continue the conversation. So it does bother you. Then why would--

The realization hits Ryusui like an overturned truck.

“You feel like you can’t hold a grudge against him, because Senku doesn’t hold a grudge against you.”

It’s not a question.

“Hm.” Tsukasa manages a wistful grin. “You’re starting to understand me too well, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

It’s the highest compliment Tsukasa has ever given him, and it stings like a slap in the face. “Tsukasa, he really hurt you!”

“I really hurt Senku.”

“He tried to kill your sister!”

“I tried to kill Senku’s friends.”

Ryusui shoves his fingers beneath his hat to tug through the roots of his hair. “That-- that doesn’t make it okay!” he shouts. “You’re not Senku! Hyoga isn’t you! God, why do I even have to say this?!”

“Ryusui,” Tsukasa murmurs. When did the two of them get so close? “I appreciate your concern. But there is no world in which Hyoga would be able to land another hit like that ever again.”

Ryusui can only shake his head. “Listen. I know you miss your sister,” he sighs, “but until we know we can trust that guy, it’s probably for the best that you don’t have anyone else special you need to protect.”

Tsakasa is silent for a long while.

“...I suppose so.”

That night, Ryusui dreams of a lunar eclipse of negative space, of a thin circle of light glinting along its circumference from the gyrating tip of a blade. He dreams of the nauseating squelch of serrated metal through flesh, of grass drenched down to the roots in a pool of crimson, of the sanguine scent of iron and copper smeared over a riverbed. He dreams of a final stand, of sharp stabs of pain like solar flares, of cold, all-encompassing, icy and numb. And then--nothing.

“Ryusui.” A voice drags him out of his slumber. “Ryusui, wake up.”

Ryusui cracks his eyes open. “Tsukasa?” He can barely make out his face in the near-darkness. “It’s not time for our shift yet, is it?”

Sheets rustle as Tsukasa shakes his head. “No.” 

There’s no light for his eyes to even adjust to. Dawn is on the opposite end of the Earth right now. “Then why’d you wake me up?”

Tsukasa exhales a sigh. “You’re crying.”

“Huh? I’m not--” But he’s interrupted by a tender hand wiping his face, a thin film of moisture slipping between Ryusui’s cheek and Tsukasa’s fingertips. “Oh.” He attempts an embarrassed laugh. “I guess I am.”

Tsukasa’s hand finds its way to Ryusui’s hair. “Why are you crying?”

How can he even respond to that? “Uh--” His voice snags in his throat. “Bad dream.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa shifts closer, but there’s only so much proximity separate bunks will allow. “Do you think you will be able to fall back asleep?”

No way in hell. “Yeah.”

A few seconds of silence. “You’re lying.”

“Hah.” It’s the closest he can come to a chuckle. “And you think I’m the one who’s starting to understand you too well.”

Tsukasa’s fingers rake through Ryusui’s bangs. “I think we’re both probably fucked.”

Ryusui screws his eyes shut.

Ah, this is bad.

I like him.

I really, really like him.

Ryusui rarely cares what others think of him. He’s never once apologized for being himself. Just because Ryusui loves everyone does not mean he expects everyone to love him. He’s accepted it; embraced it, even. Sparing too much thought on any one person’s opinion would only lead to self-doubt.

But Tsukasa...

There is no other person like Tsukasa. Ryusui could spend a thousand lifetimes trying to scratch that flawless embodiment of dignity, grace, poise, and charisma, and he would never even come close. Sometimes, Ryusui thinks Tsukasa is larger than life, the summit of a mountain in human form. Ryusui might consider him unreachable if he didn’t climb down to hoist everyone in his life to stand beside him.

Tsukasa.

I think if you hated me,

it would kind of make me hate myself.

He’s so tired. He’s so tired, and everything hurts, and he’s definitely still crying. He should just try to go back to sleep. Bite his tongue. If he asks, and Tsukasa says yes, that’ll be it. He won’t know what to do with himself.

“Hey, Tsukasa,” he croaks, against his logic, his better judgment, and his sailor’s intuition. “Do you still hate me?”

Tsukasa is quiet for a long time.

“No,” he finally responds. His fingers comb idly through Ryusui’s hair. “I don’t think that I ever truly did.”

“I see.” Ryusui smiles as much as his body will allow him to. “That’s good.”

Ryusui relaxes; lets the tension leave his shoulders, allows the weight to slip from his chest, until the gentle staccato of Tsukasa’s heartbeat through his fingertips lulls him to a calm, dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.