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. 

Chapter Text

* * * {T-19} * * *

Nanami Ryusui officially has it bad for Shishio Tsukasa.

And he’s processing it about as well as you’d expect. It’s nothing short of a cosmic miracle that he’s done any processing at all, really, because Tsukasa somehow fell asleep with his hand still tangled in Ryusui’s hair, and Ryusui’s single remaining brain cell had to make a hasty retreat before ending up dead in the water. 

Lose the battle, win the war. It’s not exactly a strong start to the morning.

Nor does it get any better after their shift manning the sails together begins. The sky is stippled with plush, cotton-candy clouds, dyed with sugary sweet pastel colors washed over the horizon in a reverse gradient. The waters are calm this morning, surface smooth as sea glass polished by the gentle waves; so there’s nothing to keep his attention from wandering towards the opposite sail, where the northbound winds are whipping Tsukasa’s wild mane across his chiseled features and broad shoulders. 

Ryusui is well aware that he’s being uncharacteristically quiet, especially for him. He’s been entirely non-verbal all morning, tongue tied in knots from the weight of words left unsaid, confessions he doesn’t know how to spin into letters. He can’t put a name to it yet, just a feeling. It sits in his chest the way lava builds in a volcano about to erupt, or a swell of water surges before it becomes a tsunami.

He can’t decide if it’s wonderful or terrifying, and kind of doesn’t want to figure it out.

Tsukasa’s too sharp not to notice. Concern stitches his brows together in the glances he keeps casting in Ryusui’s direction. He doesn’t speak; the only sounds that can be heard are the soft billowing of the sails above them, water sloshing against the sides of the ship. 

It’s not an awkward silence, but it’s not comfortable, either. Tsukasa is a man of few words, but now it feels like he’s holding something back.

He crosses the ship to approach Ryusui’s place beside the front sail, and Ryusui’s stomach does a backflip. 

“Ryusui,” he begins, and Ryusui really should’ve expected this. There’s no way a leader like Tsukasa would allow one of his comrades to suffer alone. Maybe Prince Charming was a better name for Tsukasa than it is for him. “I want to apologize again for yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” Ryusui repeats, voice scratchy from disuse. “What about yesterday?”

“I should have asked about reviving Hyoga,” he explains. “I circumvented your authority. It won’t happen again.”

It’s hard not to melt a little when his tone is so sincere and earnest. “I-It’s fine!” Ryusui stutters through a forced grin. “I trust your judgment. I’ve got my sailor’s intuition, and you’ve got your fighter’s instinct! Am I wrong?”

Ah, how foolish of him, trying to put up a front. Tsukasa is thoroughly unconvinced. Something about lions having the most perceptive senses among the big cats.

Tsukasa takes a step towards him, and there’s that feeling of him looming over Ryusui again; yet this time, it’s less imposing, and more protective. Guarding. “I won’t allow the ship to be endangered. No harm will come to any member of the crew.” He offers a solemn nod. “I swear it.”

A physical ache pangs in Ryusui’s chest. “Y’know, that’s real noble, and all,” he begins, boldly closing the distance between them until the fur of Tsukasa’s cape tickles the base of his neck, “but you do realize that no harm coming to any member of the crew includes you, right?”

Tsukasa tenses, but doesn’t step away. “But I--”

“I’m the captain,” Ryusui interrupts, jabbing a resolute thumb towards himself. “It’s my job to ensure the safety of the crew, just as much as it is yours.” 

“Hm.” The corner of Tsukasa’s lip lifts. “I suppose we’ll have to work together, then.”

It’s just unfair that such a simple statement has so much power over him. Ryusui’s face heats up like a tea kettle over a hydrothermal vent. “Ahaha! Right you are!” he declares with a snap, and he stumbles back, despite himself. Great, his sea legs chose now to fail him. “You’ve finally discovered the great treasure trove of wisdom in agreeing with me!”

Ryusui expects a witty retort back, but instead the look that washes over Tsukasa’s face is one of worry. He inspects all the warning alarms blaring on Ryusui’s expression with a calculating scan. “Are you alright?” 

“Never been better!” Ryusui deflects. “I’m sharp as a tack! Fit as a fiddle, and whatnot! Take your pick.” He flicks back his hat for emphasis. “I’m well-rested. Managed to fall back asleep last night, thanks to you.”

Tsukasa nods. “I know.”

“Yeah, exactly! So no need to worry about--” He pauses. “Wait, you do?”

“Of course,” Tsukasa confirms with a quizzical tilt of his head, like he’s surprised Ryusui would even have to ask that. “You were crying. How could I fall back asleep without the knowledge that you had peacefully returned to rest?”

Oh, what in the fucking hell. Ryusui deserves an Olympic medal in ‘Restraint’ for not kissing him right then and there. “Tsukasa, has anyone ever told ya that you’re really somethin’ else?”

Tsukasa snorts. “How specific.”

“You want me to pick an adjective?” Ryusui teases. “Very well! How about...majestic? Honorable? Righteous? Considerate? Selfless? Delicious--”

“I-I get it,” Tsukasa interrupts, spinning on his heels just a moment too late to shroud his flustered reaction. Ryusui gives his inner demons a high-five. “There’s no need to flatter me over basic courtesy.”

“It’s really not basic courtesy, though,” Ryusui argues. If that level of compassion were normal, Ryusui’s pretty sure world peace would be a thing. “Why don’t you give yourself more credit?”

It might be a good thing Tsukasa’s back is turned. Ryusui’s sailor’s intuition is giving him a bad feeling about what face he’s probably making right now. “I’ll give myself more credit when I’ve earned it.”

He really wishes Tsukasa being this open and honest didn’t feel like a spear through the chest. You already have, he says to himself, but actions speak louder than words, and Ryusui’s words are already the loudest on the ship. Taiju doesn’t count. Comparing himself to a megaphone would be a pointless endeavor. How can I prove it to him? 

He’s not above a little trickery. Gen would be proud. 

“Oh, shit,” Ryusui falters with an exaggerated teeter of his feet. “Actually, I think I am feeling kinda woozy. I’m just gonna sit down before I most definitely fall over.”

Instantly, Tsukasa spins on his heels, darting over to him like a speeding jet to catch Ryusui in his arms. He props his back in the crook of an elbow and steadies Ryusui against his chest. “As if I’d allow that to happen,” he insists, as he checks Ryusui’s temperature with the back of his hand. “Over-exerting yourself would be foolish. I’ll carry you back to the dormitor--”

“Hey, Lion King,” Ryusui hums, mouth quirked into a devious smirk. Gen would really be proud now. He’ll be sure to give Senku the memo. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that’s basic courtesy.”

Tsukasa’s concern morphs into a frown. “Hm.”

How eloquent. Truly a compelling argument.

Ryusui is suddenly acutely aware that Tsukasa has yet to let go of him. His breath is hot against Ryusui’s skin.

Maybe he is feeling faint after all. 

Ryusui wriggles comfortably in his grasp. “Hey, if you wanna carry me to bed, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Tsukasa immediately releases him. That composed mask of his cracks like a glow stick. “We--we have a job to do.”

Ryusui chuckles. “But of course.”

They each return to their respective sails, basking in the warmth of the breaking dawn.

* * * {T-17} * * * 

“--sui. Earth to Ryusui! The sky fallin’ or what?”

Ryusui is jolted out of his daytime reverie when Senku flicks the wrist holding his sunstone to shine both beams straight into Ryusui’s eyes.

“Ack!” Ryusui makes a rather undignified sound of surprise. It was enough misfortune to awaken to a dull, overcast sky, blocking out the sun like a faded blanked or a stuffy ceiling. Thanks to Chrome’s recent calcite discovery, navigation on days like these is no longer left to his sailor’s intuition -- not that it’s anything he couldn’t have handled. Equipped with the newfound tool and meteorology knowledge that surpasses even Senku’s, Ryusui’s throne is secured as the best navigator on the ship. 

Now if Senku could so kindly stop trying to knock off his crown, that’d be just great.

Which leads them to where they are now: perched atop the searchlight, the highest point on the ship. A better vantage never hurt anyone! Except those with a fear of heights, Ryusui supposes. Or those with enough misfortune to frequently find themselves tumbling from high places.

Why is Senku here again?

“I’m paying attention!” Ryusui insists, even though that’s mostly a lie; and it’s entirely lost on Senku, who wastes no time on giving him a glare so flat it compresses his face into two dimensions. 

“Oh, you definitely are,” Senku snorts, “but you do realize the sky is up, right? Not a person on the deck of the ship.”

“I’m not staring at Tsukasa!” Ryusui squeaks.

Senku smirks. “I never said it was Tsukasa.”

Gen is truly a terrible influence. Ryusui doesn’t care if it’s unscientific; those two are a force of nature as partners in crime. Not that their resident policeman would be any use at catching them in the act.

Ryusui smacks his forehead with his palm. “Figured me out, didja?” he says through his fingers. There’s no point in bothering with a defense.

“Even Suika could’ve figured you out, Captain Obvious,” Senku states matter-of-factly. “Could you be any less subtle? It’s like you go through all five stages of grief just looking at his chest.”

“Excuse me, I’m looking at his beautiful heart! It’s not my fault his juicy pecs are right in front of it!”

Senku heaves a sigh so deep Ryusui is almost impressed he doesn’t deflate and have his empty husk blown away by a gentle breeze. He lifts his finger to his forehead in a pensive stance, pupils narrowing in contemplation.

“What’s that look for?” Ryusui inquires.

“Shh, be quiet. I’m calculating how much it’d hurt if I jumped.”

“Senku!” Ryusui clasps a dramatic hand to his chest. “How are you not moved by my wistful sighs?!” 

“Oh, I’m moved, alright. Moved to go to another part of the ship.”

Come on. “Great Professor Senku, how could you abandon me in my hour of need?” Ryusui whines. “I’ve been nothing but a loyal student. I don’t deserve de tention, I deserve a ttention! Surely you can spare my woes a minute of your precious time.”

Senku pulls a face. “What do you expect me to do?”

“I desire your assistance!” Ryusui declares with a snap. “I’m seeking your wisdom. What should I do about my current dilemma?”

Senku tugs on the roots of his frazzled hair. “I don’t care!”

“Right.” Ryusui taps his finger to his chin. “But let’s say, hypothetically, that you did care.”

It’s a long shot, but he’s lucky Senku’s dedication to being a good friend outweighs his utter disinterest in love lives other than his own. “So you’re asking me how to hit on him, right?”

“More or less,” Ryusui replies, and Senku quirks an inquisitive brow in his direction. Fair enough; Ryusui’s impressive past romantic prowess proves his expertise. Leave it to Shishio Tsukasa to defy everything he’s ever known about flirting. “But you must know something about stone world romance. How else could you land a smooth guy like Gen?”

Senku crosses his arms over his chest. “Bold of you to assume I did even one millimeter of the flirting.”

“Oh?” Ryusui tilts his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

Senku points to some distant point in the oceanic abyss. “Let’s put it this way. He built me an observatory for my birthday, and I thought he was just being nice.”

Ryusui whistles through his teeth. “That’s impressive.”

“Heh, I wouldn’t go that far. Even a mentalist like him can manage--”

“No, it’s impressive that you could be that dense. Guess you and Tsukasa really are two sides of the same coin, huh? Am I wrong?”

“Yeah, and you guys are two halves of a whole idiot.”

Ryusui pouts like a toddler. “Hey, no fair! You already have your idiot!”

“Hoh?” Senku’s mouth splits into a devious grin, and Ryusui feels like a deer caught in the headlights of an eighteen-wheeler with a sleeping driver. “What’s this? You actually want him to be your idiot? Exclusively?” he taunts. “What happened to desiring everyone?”

“I-I do desire everyone!” Ryusui forces out, then appends, “but, perhaps--not in the way I desire Tsukasa.”

“That so?” Senku replies. “And in what way exactly do you desire him?”

“All of them.”

“Pfft.” Senku’s expression is delightfully fond. “I dunno, man. You could try being more direct with him about your...desire.”

“Ahaha! A fantastic idea,” Ryusui says with a snap of approval. “Thank you, love master!”

“If you ever call me that again, I really am gonna build a plank for you.”

Ryusui swings around the top mast. “Noted!” 

Once they’ve won their game of hide-and-seek with the sun and pinpointed their latitude and longitude coordinates through communication with Ruri, Ryusui takes advantage of his brief sliver of free time between captain’s duties to head over to the training deck.

And it’s like the clouds decide they’ve found a worthy reason to part in this moment, with the way a hole in the sky splits open and nascent rays of sunlight kiss Tsukasa’s exposed skin. It’s entirely unfair that he’s half-naked, cape discarded and draped over the exhaust pipe, flaunting the thin creeks of sweat glistening over his muscles. The ends of his hair are lightly damp, wild mane of locks tousled in gentle waves over his cheekbones.

Ryusui gulps. He doesn’t think he signed up for this.

Tsukasa catches him from the corner of his vision. “Good work,” he says to the group. “Let’s resume in five minutes.”

Exhausted sounds of approval resonate from the rest of the warriors. Tsukasa runs a hand through his hair to push it from his face and shakes it out as he approaches Ryusui, and Ryusui decides to invent a new religion.

“Can I assist you with something?” Tsukasa offers. 

“You sure can!” Ryusui declares. Being bold and forward is his first nature; he’s totally got this. “Tsukasa, I desire you!”

Tsukasa’s brows knit together as the muscles in his face tighten. “You.. .desire me?” he repeats slowly. At the very least, he doesn’t look disgusted. More... confused. “And what is the nature of this desire?”

Ryusui decides to answer a question with a question. “Are you busy tonight?”

Tsukasa ponders for a moment before responding. “I suppose not. My and Kohaku’s supplemental training will be done by then,” he replies. “Why?”

“Because I’ve got a great idea,” Ryusui begins with a confident snap. “Wanna bend me over the ship’s guardrail under the moonlight?”

Tsukasa’s pupils dilate in embarrassment as his entire face flushes a screaming shade of crimson. He wracks a cough into the back of his hand to cover up--something. Ryusui doesn’t know what. “Hm. Very funny,” he chokes. “Is there truly a need for payback over the pickup line I used in the roulette game? I believe we ended the night evenly matched.”

Wait, what? “I’m being serious!”

“Even I sold it better than you are right now.”

Now that really puts a dent in Ryusui’s flirtatious pride. But he can still recover from this. “Ah, I don’t really remember how you said it...” he muses, drifting closer to Tsukasa. Tsukasa tenses up. “Why don’t you try it again and remind me?”

Tsukasa takes a step back. “If you want a rematch, there are better ways to ask,” he stutters. His eyes are looking anywhere but Ryusui’s. “Perhaps another time. I need to return to training.”

Ryusui reaches out towards him. “Wait, Tsukasa--”

But Tsukasa spins on his toes and whirls around, then returns to the group of warriors awaiting his return.

Ryusui stands there in dumbstruck silence for an embarrassingly long time. What the hell just happened? he thinks as he drags his feet to the engine room, only to find Senku tinkering with the dizzying array of buttons and knobs on the metalforge exterior. He peers over his shoulder with an expression tightroping the border between neutral and listless. 

“Oi, what happened? You look like a kicked puppy.” He pushes to his feet. “I take it your experiment didn’t go too well.”

“The measuring glass has shattered along with my heart!” Ryusui clasps his chest as if lanced by an arrow. “My words of profound desire were entirely lost on him.”

“Hoh?” Senku leans against the wall. “So it wasn’t a rejection?”

“He thought I was messing with him!” Ryusui explains. “He didn’t even believe me to begin with!”

“Well, what aspect of your desire were you direct with him about?”

“I asked him to do unspeakable things to me beneath the night sky.”

Senku groans in exasperation. “Maybe your body’s less than seventy percent water. At least that would explain why you’re so dense.” He scrubs his temples with his fingers. “Listen, I’m really not the right guy for this. Isn’t there someone better you can ask?”

Inspiration strikes Ryusui like a snapped power line. “Ahaha! You’ve given me a brilliant idea!” he exclaims. “I’ll see you later, Professor Senku!”

“Hey, see me later for what?”

Ryusui elects not to answer him, instead offering a smile that flashes his gums and a rousing salute just before he exits the engine room.

When the shadowy chill of evening descends over the Perseus, Ryusui takes cover in the warmth of the bar, reclining in a wooden chair seated at a round table. The casino is only sparsely populated now, with much of the crew on roster for nighttime duties, thanks to Ryusui’s clever last-minute reassignments. 

They’ll need as many hands on deck as they can get to cover for the group Ryusui has assembled for the night.

The Five Generals of the Kingdom of Science file into the casino out of time with one another, Chrome skipping in behind Ukyo, followed by Senku and Gen, with Senku’s arm wrapped around Gen’s thin waist. Ryusui completes the group: he springs to his feet and beckons them over with a sweeping gesture.

“Ahoy, ya scallywags!” he booms in greeting. “I’ve an urgent matter to discuss with you today.”

Senku and Gen exchange a knowing look, while Ukyo and Chrome trade a worried one. “Urgent matter?” Ukyo repeats. “Is the ship in danger?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Senku deadpans. “Why am I here?”

“Because you have a vested interest in my love life,” Ryusui reminds him as the group joins him at the table.

“That isn’t even one millimeter true.”

“Wait, ‘love life’ ?” Chrome says as he sits down. “What are you talking about?”

Senku rolls his eyes. “He’s trying to get in Tsukasa's pants.”

“What crude language!” Ryusui gasps, clasping a hand to his chest in utmost offense. “However, you are entirely correct. But I’m also trying to get into his heart-pants.”

Senku pulls a face. “What the hell is a heart-pants?” He holds up a hand when Ryusui opens his mouth to respond. “Y'know what? Don’t answer that.”

Ukyo twitches. “So you called a meeting of the Five Generals because you’re trying to...”

“Woo our fiercest warrior,” Gen finishes. “Sweep him off his feet, if you will.”

“I’m flattered you think I could lift him up!” Ryusui replies. “So you see my dilemma, my fellow wise commanders. I’m humbly requesting your assistance.”

“Humble,” Senku snorts. “Surprised you know the meaning of the word.”

“Of course I know the definition of ‘humble ,’” Ryusui says. “People always used that word to describe me with ‘not’ in front of it!”

“Well, I’m happy to try to help,” Ukyo starts uneasily, “but I’m pretty sure you’ve dated more people than I’ve met. What exactly do you need us for?”

“Each of you is uniquely acquainted with Tsukasa,” Ryusui explains, “and you’ve all known him far longer than I. Surely you possess many insights! Tell me I’m right.”

“Mm, perhaps...” Gen muses. “I suppose a good place to begin is that I have never seen Tsukasa-chan show romantic interest towards anyone.”

“Really?” Ryusui says, certainly surprised and weirdly relieved. “He was the leader of an empire. He could’ve taken any lovers he pleased.”

“There was certainly...interest,” Ukyo continues from where Gen left off. “Not all of which was subtle. He was always very polite in turning down advances, though.”

“Plus, Minami has it bad for him!” Chrome adds. “He seems to respect her, but I think the crush is one-way.”

Ryusui chews on his lip. “Is he even attracted to women?”

Gen slips his hands into the sleeves of his kimono. “Who can say?”

Senku elbows his boyfriend. “You can, mentalist.”

“I’m seriously flattered by your faith, Senku-chan,” Gen giggles, and Ryusui has to beat down the urge to swat at their flirting. He’s suffering here! “Very well. During his reign as leader of the Kingdom of Might, he never expressed any preference for appearance or gender in choosing who to revive. No matter how impartial one claims to be, even the purest of hearts are sure to exhibit some preference, even if subconsciously.” He shrugs. “Unless, of course, there’s no preference to begin with. Whether this implies pansexuality, asexuality, or demisexuality, is more difficult to discern.” 

Ryusui nods in acknowledgment. “Hmm...I see.”

“However,” Gen continues, holding up a finger. “Setting romantic interests aside, if we’re talking about what type of person he likes the best -- that I can conclusively answer.” He readjusts his sleeves. “He was always the most fond of those who had passionate, righteous hearts, and a strong sense of duty. If there’s someone for which Tsukasa has feelings, it would have to be someone like that. ”

“Hey, that kinda fits you!” Chrome encourages with a clap to Ryusui’s back. Ryusui frowns. Only ‘kinda’? “This calls for an experiment. Nothing can’t be figured out if you diligently apply the scientific method!”

“And you’re qualified to conduct that?” Senku cuts in. “No offense, Chrome, but you have the romantic game of a barbeque corn chip.”

“Why is that so weirdly specific?” Ukyo asks, at the same time Chrome says, “What’s a barbecue corn chip?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Senku,” Ryusui says. “He well exceeds the expertise necessary. Chrome here captured the heart of the beautiful priestess Ruri through his boyish charms!”

“W-Well, I don’t know about that...” Chrome stammers, poking his fingers together with a sheepish grin. “But I’ve got a damn good idea. If we combine our talents, we can pool information and piece together the puzzle. Let’s observe how Tsukasa acts around Ryusui!”

“Ah, I see where you’re going with this, Chrome-chan,” Gen says as he taps his temple. “I can read his reactions and body language.”

“I’ll calculate how much it deviates from his standard behavior around other members of the crew,” Senku offers.

“I can monitor his heart rate from afar,” Ukyo concludes, and all heads collectively turn to cast bewildered looks in his direction.

“You can hear heartbeats?” Chrome says incredulously. “From a distance?!”

Ukyo shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Yes?”

“Ahaha!” Ryusui surges to his feet with a snap. “A foolproof plan. Let us commence right away!”

“It’s already nighttime,” Senku reminds him. “We’ll start tomorrow. It’s not like you’re gonna see Tsukasa before--” His stare widens. “Hey, speak of the devil.”

“There’s that dreadful luck of yours, Senku,” Ryusui laughs, and then--”Wait, what?!”

He whirls around, only to see Tsukasa drifting through the entrance of the casino, cape fluttering regally behind him.

“T-Tsukasa!” Ryusui greets, and kicks himself for the way his voice cracks like a kid going through puberty. “What a welcome surprise to see you here.”

“Hm. I was looking for you,” Tsukasa replies, and all of Ryusui’s insides turn to mush. Tsukasa surveys the group of people crowded around the table. “Is something the matter?”

“Nope!” Ryusui insists. Now they can carry out their experiment immediately. “Hey, now that you’re here, why don’t ya stay a while? Have a drink, play a game. Unwind a little.” He scans Tsukasa up and down. “You’ve had a tiring day.”

“Seeking a rematch, aren’t you? I wouldn’t have assumed you’d be so eager to lose again,” Tsukasa teases. Ryusui’s brain becomes completely smooth. “But you are correct that it’s been a tiring day, so perhaps another night. I have a question to ask you.”

Yeah, Ryusui’s not registering anything he’s saying right now. “What, afraid you’ll end up naked with me again?” Ryusui purrs. “You said you had fun, right? I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

Senku coughs behind him. Ryusui thinks he hears someone face-palm, and decides not to turn around and check who. 

Tsukasa reddens, then he presses his fingers to his forehead in a feeble attempt to compose himself. “Admittedly, your ridiculous outfit looked much better in a crumpled heap on the floor,” he replies. Ryusui’s jaw drops as he lights up like a Christmas tree. “There. I win. You’ll never be victorious in a pickup line competition against me. My fans were very bold.” He clears his throat and dusts off his cape. “I’ll...ask you my question later. See you tomorrow.” Then he exits the casino before Ryusui can respond.

Once he’s gone, Ryusui spins around and slams his hands on the table. “What was that!” he squeaks.

“A failed experiment, that’s what,” Senku deadpans. “How are we supposed to gauge his base level reactions when you threw him off like that?”

“It’s true,” Gen tsks. “To have Ryusui-chan speak to them like that would fluster anyone.”

Ukyo’s expression is pensive. “But, even before that, he...” His voice trails off as he shakes head. “Gen’s right. You messed it up. It’s hard to tell if his response was genuine or to get back at you.”

“Probably the latter,” Chrome appends. “He wouldn't back down from a challenge or let you have the last word.” He shakes his head. “We didn’t even find out what question he was going to ask you. It could’ve been something crazy interesting!”

Ryusui slumps over the table. “Damnit.”

“Damnit is right,” Senku reprimands, but there’s something almost comforting in his voice. “Why’d you hit on him if you desire him in a way beyond just physical?”

“It usually works!” Ryusui says. “Besides, whatever do you mean? Physicality is a beautiful way to express closeness and romantic desire for someone.”

“Sure, but it might take a romantic connection first before he feels a physical one,” Senku responds. “That’s how I am, after all.”

Ryusui sighs. “If I made a romantic move, what’s the percent chance he’d say yes?”

“Well, that’s just a stupid question. Frequentist probability doesn’t exist for single-occurance events.” Senku strikes his trademark calculating pose. “Within the subjective interpretation of probability, though, specifically Bayesianism, following the aforementioned theorem, an agent’s initial probability assignment is a personal degree of belief that can be updated with the acquisition of new information with which to improve their estimate--”

“Senku.”

“Fine, fine.” He returns his hand to the table. “Personally? I don’t know if he’s there yet. Here’s what you need to do. Spend some quality alone time with him: no pickup lines. Just be yourself.” He offers half a grin. “If you manage to do that, there’s a ten billion percent increased chance of success.”

Ryusui springs back up. “No moping!” he says, more to himself than anyone else. “Thank you all for your valuable assistance. I’ll take your advice posthaste!”

The group disbands after a game of blackjack Ryusui staggeringly loses. He can’t help it; he has other things on his mind.

* * * {T-13} * * * 

Ryusui’s beginning to wonder if Senku’s bad luck is contagious, because neither he nor Tsukasa have even a speck of spare time for a solid four days.

The ocean is volatile and capricious, gliding the ship across waters calm as infinity’s expanse one moment only to punish the ship with waves like a bucking horse in the next. The sky is churning and dark, and Ryusui spends half his time clutching the searchlight mast for dear life with his eyes through the sunstone and the other half fighting with the wheel on the helm of the ship.

As for Tsukasa, Kirisame and Kinro join his training group, consuming his days with assessing their abilities, scrutinizing their techniques, and devising intricate plans to catch them up with the other fighters. Tsukasa’s cool composure never collapses, but even from a distance Ryusui can see it crack a little more with each of Mozu’s constant disrespects towards the female warriors. It gets so bad that even Hyoga almost skewers him through the hand when it creeps towards Kohaku. It’s protective in a way that seems strangely familiar.

So they’re both kind of swamped. Manning the sails together in the morning is too busy to count as the quality alone time Senku suggested. Ryusui is not a patient man, and the sheer level of desire he feels every time he so much as thinks about Tsukasa is almost suffocating.

Then, on the fourth day, they’re both soaked to the bone by a particularly vengeful wave just as their shift is ending. 

“Pfft, you two look like cats dropped into a bathtub,” Senku says as he and Gen arrive to take over their duties. “Go inside and dry off. Don’t make me do the un-exhilarating task of babysitting you if you catch a cold.” He shoos them away. “There should be some spare towels in the communications room.”

“The communications room?” Ryusui repeats. It’s not exactly a spacious area, and there won’t be anyone else nearby. “Aren’t there more towels in the dormitor--” 

Senku cuts him off with a cunning grin. Oh. Oh. So that’s what he’s doing.

Beaming, Ryusui swivels towards Tsukasa. “Looks like we’d better take Dr. Senku’s orders!”

Tsukasa inspects his damp cloak. “Hm. Understood.”

Ryusui marches off to the communications room with Tsukasa in tow. The two of them descend the steep staircase to the safety of the lower deck, sheltered from the light mist spraying the hull of the Perseus. Behind him, Tsukasa sheds his cloak and wrings it out, draping it over the dashboard to dry in the scant sunlight filtering in through the sprawling window. Ryusui casts off the spaulders trapping water on his shoulders and hooks his wet hat on the upper rung of the small wheel at the head of the room.

“Here they are,” Tsukasa announces as he finds a stack of plush wool towels stacked in the corner. He selects two from the stack and tosses one to Ryusui before unfolding his own. “Senku is right. Now would be an inconvenient time to fall ill.”

“Ahaha, would it be though?” Ryusui muses, pointedly ignoring the way Tsukasa’s arms cross over his now-bare chest. “Perhaps then we might be able to catch a break. I think we’ve both been fraying at the edges over the last few days.”

Tsukasa chuckles. “I doubt being bedridden with a runny nose would be terribly relaxing.”

“Hm...you may have a point.” Ryusui readjusts his damp cape as he kicks up against the wall. He fights back a shiver; no way in hell is he letting a chill interrupt their first truly alone time together. “Hey, answer me somethin’. What’d you used to do to relax?” he asks. “Back before the first petrification?”

“I didn’t relax very often,” Tsukasa begins. “Keeping in shape between matches occupied most of my waking hours before and after classes. Much of my rare free time was spent visiting my sister.” He allows his gaze to wander beyond the window. “But I enjoyed reading, and listening to music.” He laughs to himself. “And occasionally staying up all night playing Mario Kart by myself. It was a rare indulgence.”

An indulgence? Tsukasa? Ryusui’s jaw drops. “You played video games?!”

Tsukasa gives him a gentle grin. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Honestly? It kind of is. “Nah, but it’s a nice surprise to know you unwound like that every once in a while.” Ryusui rakes a hand through his dripping hair. “But why’d you do it alone? A game like that is much more fun with friends! Am I wrong?”

Tsukasa’s smile turns sheepish. “I didn’t have any friends.”

Ryusui’s face falls. “Why not?”

“Fame is surprisingly alienating,” Tsukasa replies with a shrug. “And I didn’t have the time to establish any lasting relationships. I didn’t meet anyone I thought I could connect with until after the petrification.” He drops his stare to the damp wooden floor. “Though I only told him he may have been my first friend right before I killed him.”

Shit, Ryusui needs to fix this before he shame-spirals. “W-Well you and Senku are friends now!” Ryusui reminds him. “And you’ve got lots of other friends, too! Like Taiju and Yuzuriha, and Kohaku and Chrome! Kinro and Ginro, and Nikki, Ukyo, and Magma, too!” He adds an energetic snap. “Gen will talk you in circles before he’ll ever admit it, but sometimes he ain’t as slick as he thinks he is.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa’s smile is back, but there’s something off about it. “I believe you’re forgetting someone important.”

“Am I?” Ryusui angles his head and tries to wrack his cluttered brain. “Who?”

Tsukasa exhales a fond sigh. “You.”

Ryusui points at himself. “Me?” 

“Of course you,” Tsukasa chuckles, then leans forward a bit. “Am I wrong?”

Ryusui has literally been proposed to before, and it didn’t have anything close to the effect on his heart as hearing his own signature phrase tossed back at him so affectionately like that. “Not in the slightest!” Ryusui beams. “But I’m thrilled I’ve acquired your friendship, as the greediest man in the world!”

“The greediest man in the world,” Tsukasa repeats, just like when they’d first met, but this time the roll of his eyes is amused. 

“That’s right,” Ryusui confirms. He wipes a droplet of water from the tip of his nose. “I told you there were many types of desire, did I not?”

“You did.” Tsukasa dries the back of his neck with his towel. “Not that I’m familiar with most of them.”

Ryusui bites his tongue. No pickup lines. “Tell me one of the desires you have right now.”

“Right now?” Tsukasa echoes. “As in this moment?”

Ryusui snaps in confirmation. “This moment!”

Tsukasa’s attention wanders around the room, then pauses when it locks onto the wheel beside Ryusui. “I wish I knew how to steer the ship.”

If there were ever such a thing as a perfect answer to a question, it’s that. “You--you want to learn more about the ship?” 

A gentle nod. “I do.”

Ryusui has to squeeze his palms to contain his excitement. He’s only half-successful. “Then get over here and I’ll show ya!” he says as he springs off the wall.

Tsukasa joins him shortly after, drifting to his side as he inspects the intricately-carved wheel with a thoughtful expression. “I have never driven before,” he admits.

“It’s not so bad!” Ryusui exclaims. “Out here in the water, you don’t have to worry about swerving to avoid hittin’ stuff like you would on a road. No traffic cones or pot holes here. Or small children chasing after a soccer ball!”

“That last one is specific...” Tsukasa says, “but no matter. How do I begin?”

“Before you put your hands on the wheel, you first gotta determine the direction of the wind,” Ryusui says, peering out through the window. “See how the waves have a roughly uniform slope to them? One radian opposite that motion is its origin.”

Tsukasa leans onto the dashboard to observe the waves. “Yes, I can see that now.”

“Great!” Ryusui replies. “Once you know where the wind will take you if left to the boat’s inertia, you can calculate the angle at which you need to steer the rudder.” He taps on the edge of the wheel. “Nothing a little high-school geometry can’t handle.”

Not that Tsukasa struggles with that remotely. Even Senku has commended his frightening degree of intelligence. “The direction of the wind just changed,” Tsukasa notices. “Turn the wheel one-quarter radian to the left to stay the current course.”

“You catch on quick!” Ryusui chirps. Really quick. What the hell? No wonder he gave the Kingdom of Science so much trouble back when...well. “But why don’t you turn it?”

Tsukasa gulps. “Right.” 

He places his hands gingerly on the wheel, staring at the soft scratches on the wooden apparatus as if it’s a chessboard. A hesitant spin of the spokes follows, then Tsukasa’s expression pinches. “Nothing is happening.”

“Just give it time,” Ryusui says. “It’s a big ship -- it’ll take a few moments for the motion to kick in. Think of it as a fulcrum: the rudder’s in the back, so up at the bow where we are will be the last to feel a turn.” 

“That makes sense,” Tsukasa agrees. “So the timing is intricate, then.”

“Sure is,” Ryusui responds. “Push and pull, lead and follow. It’s like a slow dance.”

Tsukasa laughs, right then. “You say that as if it’s something I can relate to.”

Ryusui gapes at him. “Surely you’ve danced before!”

Tsukasa shakes his head. “When would I have danced?”

It’s not a surprising answer, but it’s still a little heartbreaking. Ryusui takes a bold step closer, scrounging up courage he hadn’t realized that he lacked. “Would you like me to teach you?” he whispers.

Tsukasa stares at him for a moment, then shrugs his mostly-dry cloak back over his shoulders. “Alright.”

Oh. He wasn’t expecting that. He hides the momentary shock under a confident smirk. “I’m honored to be your first,” Ryusui hums, and the tips of Tsukasa’s ears color a beautiful shade of vermillion. Ryusui flicks his wet cape behind him, sweeping into a bow. “Now, then. May I have this dance, Lion King?”

The distance between them is closed in a single stride. “Do you want me to call you Prince Charming?” Tsukasa asks with a playful grin.

There’s nothing Ryusui desires more in the entire world. “Let me earn it.”

“Hm.” A mysterious glint flickers in and out of existence in Tsukasa’s eyes. “Very well.”

Ryusui slips a hand into one of Tsukasa’s and guides his other to the front of his shoulder, before circling his own remaining hand behind Tsukasa’s back. The plume of fur on Tsukasa’s cape where it presses into Ryusui’s collar is still slightly wet. “Let’s begin with a classic: the three-quarter waltz.”

Despite its modesty, it’s still Ryusui’s favorite. Sometimes the most lavish forms of extravagance lie in simplicity. 

“How is it performed?” Tsukasa says.

“It’s better demonstrated than explained,” Ryusui responds. “I’ll lead, so don’t be nervous. Dancing can’t be too different from kicking someone’s ass.”

Tsukasa chuckles at that. “I’m not nervous.” Ah. Maybe Ryusui is projecting. “I’ll try not to step on your toes. That might break them.”

“Eh. It’s okay if you do.” Ryusui shrugs, casually as he can. “It’d be worth it.”

No response. Tsukasa’s grip on his shoulder tightens.

The shy sun peeks out from behind the clouds as Ryusui takes the first step. There is no music; only the dull thrum of his racing thoughts harmonizing with the soft brushing of their feet against the wood. A tread with his right, Tsukasa follows left. Ryusui leads him in slow, leisurely circles around the room, swaying in time with the crashing of waves. Light mist blurs the world beyond the window into a haze, crystalline pale cerulean, the wind whispering an ancient language of words he wishes he knew how to say.

A loud creak when Tsukasa steps on a particularly weathered floorboard. “I suppose this isn’t exactly the dancing venue you’re accustomed to,” Tsukasa quips. “Perhaps it makes you miss your old ballrooms from before the petrification.”

“Nah,” Ryusui says. “If anything, I guess I sorta miss the old record player I used to keep in my hallway.” A gentle redirect leads them away from the rickety beam of wood. “But when it comes to dancing, the only thing that ever really matters is the company.”

Tsukasa hums, and Ryusui can feel it reverberate through his fingertips from where they’re pressed against Tsukasa’s back. “I know exactly what you mean.”

For once, Ryusui doesn’t think his wishful thinking is wrong about the implications of that.

In lieu of a reply, Ryusui continues to steer them back and forth, steady in the three-count box step he learned when his age was still in the single digits. He’d complained about it, back then, though it wasn’t long before he began to enjoy it. Ryusui is convinced dancing is something humans were made for. There’s no other way to explain why it feels like an instinct.

After another few minutes of peaceful silence, Ryusui loosens his grip. “Do you trust me, Tsukasa?” he says mischievously.

Tsukasa pauses, but doesn’t move away. Instead, he meets Ryusui’s gaze with his own, heavy-lidded with something Ryusui can’t quite put a name to. “I do.”

Ryusui slices him a grin. “Good.”

He raises their linked hands high above his head then spins Tsukasa into a twirl, his cape fluttering behind him in a waterfall of suede. When he pulls the warrior back and drags Tsukasa’s hand to his chest, Tsukasa’s pupils are blown wide.

“Are you dizzy?” Ryusui teases, and expects no response or possibly a denial but instead he gets:

“Are you?”

Yes, Ryusui thinks immediately, as he resumes their dance and they fall back into a comfortable rhythm. Very, very much so. “Not a bit.”

“I see.” Tsukasa’s acknowledgment is a moment too late. “Then neither am I.”

The sea lurches the ship, and the only thing they have on which to brace themselves is each other. Ryusui transforms a stumble into a swing step and tops it off with a wink.

“Hey,” Ryusui begins, timing their tempo with the rocking of the ship, “what question were you going to ask me the other day?”

A shrug, too nonchalant to be truthful. “It wasn’t important.”

“Of course it’s important,” Ryusui insists, tugging them in a smooth diagonal across the room. “What was it?”

“It was already answered,” Tsukasa tries.

“Come on, you gotta tell me,” Ryusui pleads. A wandering hand threatens to twirl him again. “I’m too curious now.”

Tsukasa breaks eye contact. “I was going to ask for...this.”

Any witty remark Ryusui had been planning to make dissipates into thin air. “This?” he repeats.

“Yes, this. I wanted to spend time together outside of our duties.”

“Huh?” Ryusui breathes. “Why?”

Tsukasa smiles down at him, and it’s impossibly warm. “I thought it might be nice.”

“Nice,” Ryusui chokes. He doesn’t know how to process that at all.

Nor does Tsukasa give him the chance to figure it out. 

Tsukasa has switched their positions before Ryusui can even register it; his hand drifts from Ryusui’s bicep to the small of his back. Tsukasa rotates Ryusui’s shoulders and dips him gently, ruining him for anyone and anything else.

“I thought I was supposed to lead,” Ryusui falters.

“Hm.” Tsukasa pulls him closer. “I prefer being in charge.”

Ryusui takes it back. Now he’s ruined.

“By all means,” Ryusui manages through a winded laugh, “do whatever you want.”

Tsukasa takes over from there. Ryusui watches with hypnotic fascination as Tsukasa maps a path through the room without his eyes ever leaving Ryusui’s, as the damp fabric of their capes intermingles, rippling like the surface of the water outside. They dance to the tune of the ship’s creaking, to the barely-audible scuffles and footsteps of their friends up above. It’s perfect; almost too perfect. His old estate garden of a thousand roses is nothing compared to the smell of seawater in Tsukasa’s hair.

“Tsukasa,” Ryusui whispers, “can I admit something?”

It’s hard not to notice the way Tsukasa’s heartbeat quickens. “...I suppose.”

“That day on the beach wasn’t the first time I ever saw you,” Ryusui tells him. Though it was the first time he saw him up close. “Back before the petrification, I saw one of your fights on TV.”

Tsukasa lifts a brow. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” Ryusui confirms. He’d only caught the last few minutes of it. “You won.”

That earns him a smirk. “I did that a lot,” Tsukasa chuckles. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Ryusui gulps. “Who said I enjoyed it?”

The smile falls from Tsukasa’s expression. “What?”

“I mean, you were incredible,” Ryusui exhales, then he tries and fails to prevent his voice from breaking. “But--you looked kinda sad.”

Tsukasa’s lashes flutter shut. “Hm.”

“Were you?” Ryusui asks him.

A single nod. “I was.”

Ryusui squeezes Tsukasa’s hand tighter. “Are you still?”

Tsukasa shakes his head. “Not anymore.”

“Good.” Ryusui allows himself to slump against Tsukasa’s chest. “I’m glad.”

Fortunately, Tsukasa doesn’t let the motion throw them off. “As am I.” He readjusts his grip on Ryusui’s back. “Can I admit something, too?”

Ryusui can’t find it within himself to look up. “Sure,” he croaks.

Tsukasa leans down to whisper in his ear. “You already earned it, Prince Charming.”

All the riches of the Nanami Conglomerate at the height of its power couldn’t hope to scratch the pricelessness of that one sentence.

They’re still dancing, and it feels so right, and it’s really too much that not only is he holding Tsukasa but Tsukasa is holding him, cradling Ryusui like he’s something breakable, something precious. Mist falls like glitter in the air. The dust motes twinkle like fairies, sunlight shimmering magic through the smudges on the window. 

It’d be funny that the most romantic thing to ever happen in his life is happening on the musty lower deck of a primitive ship almost four thousand years after he was born while sopping wet, if he weren’t having a slight mental breakdown in the arms of the knight he’s always read about in storybooks, and he thinks, with a touch of hysteria, that if heaven’s really up there then it better be as good as this.

Ryusui’s not sure how much time passes, only that he’s finally dragged back down to Earth by the sound of approaching footsteps. It takes every last ounce of willpower to pull away from Tsukasa, and then a little more beyond that. 

“We should do this again sometime,” Ryusui suggests.

Tsukasa tilts his head. “Which part?”

“Any of it,” Ryusui responds. “All of it.”

Tsukasa smiles back at him. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah,” Ryusui says. He flicks his soggy hat back onto his head. “Me too.”

* * * {T-11 } * * * 

If Ryusui had it bad before, now he’s utterly hopeless.

It takes him an extra hour to fall asleep the next two nights, his mind taunting him with waking dreams of what it would be like to embrace Tsukasa again. It doesn’t help that he’s the first thing Ryusui sees when he wakes up in the morning, close enough to reach out but not close enough to touch; and he might be going a little bit crazy, but his avaricious heart is begging him to cling to Tsukasa the way dragons hoard gold.

For all his bold declarations of desire and raunchy flirting, he’s got a funny feeling that if Tsukasa were to actually kiss him, he’d probably fall apart. It’s every bit the newfound wonder of the first time he ever learned what a crush was, but with the power and strength to absolutely ruin him. Fifteen injured, three dead. Ryusui is all of them.

During their morning shift, Tsukasa seems to notice something’s off; but for better or for worse, he’s pretty much used to Ryusui acting weird around him. When they go their separate ways, Ryusui welcomes the opportunity to wallow a little in self-pity.

The heat sticks to his back like syrup, viscous as honey. The air is heavy with more water than it knows how to fit. A storm looms overhead, brewing in spirals of cumulonimbus clouds like an old witch’s cauldron the moment before it’s hot enough to boil children. Rain hangs overhead but refuses to fall.

Senku stands beside him at the helm of the ship as the two of them have a staring contest they’ll inevitably lose with the tempest. Ryusui heaves his sixteenth sigh in half as many minutes.

“That bad, huh?” Senku chuckles.

“It’s worse,” Ryusui groans. “I feel like I should stand on the deck and get rained on for a bit. Drown in the angst, set the mood, y’know? Just for the drama.”

“On top of your usual level of drama?” Senku says with a smirk. “I dunno, you might hurt yourself.”

“Don’t make light of my misery!” Ryusui whines. “Your beloved captain is yearning.”

“Can you please yearn elsewhere?” Senku says, but his exasperation is too mirthful at the edges to be genuine. “Your... ‘alone time’ with Tsukasa was successful, right?”

“Too successful,” Ryusui says, deflating onto the guardrail. “Senku, I want to kiss his nose and hold his hands.”

“Careful, now. There are children aboard. We wouldn’t want ‘em to hear that kind of dirty talk.”

It’s impossible to stay sulking through Senku’s wit. Ryusui laughs, despite himself. “But of course.” He shoves back to an upright position. “I’m going to the bar. I need shots. Or to be shot. I’ll decide when I get there.”

Senku’s petrification scars pinch in concern. “What’s the deciding factor?”

Ryusui pauses. “Where’s Yo?”

“He was supposed to have cleaning duty, so, probably asleep.” Senku leans against the railing. “But either you or your ghost should keep me updated with the outcome.”

“Certainly!” Ryusui says, with more energy than he possesses. He claps Senku on the shoulder before padding away.

He almost trips twice on the steep staircase down to the bar. His foot hits the floor with a final dull thud upon reaching the casino, then he uses the last of his strength to shove into his favorite stool at the counter.

“Francois!” Ryusui calls with a snap. “Two mugs of beer, if you will.”

Francois wipes down the dishware with a damp towel. “Are you expecting company, Ryusui-sama?”

“They’re both for me.”

The glasses are withdrawn from the cabinet and placed in front of him without further ado. Ryusui watches them pour the drink, mesmerized, as the tiny stream of bubbles explode like fireworks inside the cup. Francois pushes them forward.

“Did something happen with Tsukasa-sama?” they say, but it’s only phrased as a question out of politeness. Of course they already know without needing to ask.

“Ah, since our super dreamy and magical fairytale moment that completely redefined the meaning of perfection to me? I’m afraid not.” Ryusui takes a long, long swig of the first glass. “I desire him, Francois. I’m longing. Pining, if you will.”

“I see.” They dust off their already immaculate vest. “It is quite unlike you to be hesitant. Is there a reason you have not made your desires known to him?”

“I have!” Ryusui insists. Francois raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Fine, fine. It’s...different, with him. I’m not used to being nervous. It keeps activating my flight-or-flight instinct.”

“I believe it’s fight or flight, Ryusui-sama.”

“Why would I want to fight him?” Ryusui says incredulously. Francois sighs in response. “I don’t know, Francois. I can’t put it into words. You know what I mean, right?”

“I do.”

“I knew you would!” Ryusui declares with another snap. “Put it into words for me, Francois. I believe in you.”

Francois offers him a mirthful smile. “I do not mean to disobey orders, Ryusui-sama, but I believe this is one thing you will have to determine how to put into words yourself.”

Ryusui deflates onto the counter. They really never humor him. “Francois,” Ryusui groans, “I think I’m going crazy.”

Francois only laughs and shakes their head. “I believe that would require you to have been sane to begin with.” They helpfully push a mug closer. “Desire is justice. And ‘crazy’ is only a word used to describe those who make the impossible possible.”

Ryusui downs the rest of the first glass. “You’re so smart, Francois,” he drawls. He takes a deep gulp out of the second pitcher. “Who needs gender when you have wisdom. Am I wrong?”

“You never are,” they reply with a pleased expression. Ah, he takes it back. They do humor him.

Francois spins around to attend to the mountain of dishes, and Ryusui allows his eyes to wander around the bar. Its population is light again: Nikki and Magma are playing darts, while Homura and Minami chat in the corner. Ginro and Matsukaze occupy a table near the back.

Matsukaze is clearly plastered already, with only half his pitcher drained as he tells a story about his previous life with sweeping, animated gestures and a too-loud voice. And while Ginro’s alcohol tolerance also leaves something to be desired, there’s no way that flush on his face is due to the one or two sips that seem to be missing from his own.

Ryusui decides to tease him about it when Ginro arrives at the counter for a refill.

“Ginro, my good friend!” Ryusui half-slurs, now mostly through his second beer. “I did not know you liked men.”

Ginro’s face becomes a splotchy red mess. “Who likes what now?”

Ryusui taps his temple. “My sailor’s intuition is telling me you’ve got a little crush on our valiant samurai.”

Francois snorts behind him. Ryusui flaps a hand in their direction.

Ginro pokes his fingers together awkwardly. “M-Maybe...”

“Well, you already know he likes you,” Ryusui says. “In fact, everyone knows!”

Ginro drops his eyes to the floor. “Yeah, I know.”

“Why the long face? Your feelings are reciprocated!” Ryusui chirps. How nice that must be. “So what’s stopping you from making your desires a reality?”

“Well...” Ginro begins with a sheepish grin, cautiously accepting the glasses from Francois. “When someone looks up to you like that, it makes you kind of want to earn it.”

Ryusui blinks. The sentiment seems familiar in a way he can’t quite place. “Oi, why do you turn into a philosopher when you’re tipsy?”

“I-I’m not tipsy, Ryusui...I think that’s you.”

“Ahaha! Being tipsy is all in the head.” Ryusui downs the rest of the second pitcher then slams it back onto the counter. “Well, don’t waste time with me. Go forth! Be with your husband.”

“H-Husband?!”

Ryusui shoos him away. Ginro scampers off without defending himself. 

Ryusui’s just about to leave the bar when someone slides into the seat next to him, then his stomach drops through the bottom of his foot.

Francois seems equally surprised to see the occupant. They hide it far better than Ryusui, but he’s as good at reading them as they are at reading him. 

“Would you like something to drink, Hyoga-sama?” they say uneasily.

“No, thank you.” Hyoga rests his kudayari against the bar. “I’m here for the company.”

Ryusui’s throat goes totally dry. Francois tenses imperceptibly. “Very well, then. Do let me know if you change your mind.”

They spin back around, but Ryusui doesn’t miss how they angle a glass to observe Hyoga in its reflection. That’s my Francois.

Ryusui stares longingly at his empty mugs. He’s not drunk enough for this.

“You...don’t like me very much, do you?” Hyoga begins.

The ‘very much’ doesn’t feel necessary. “Nope.”

Hyoga crosses his legs. “You’re quite forward,” he replies. “It’s very proper.”

Is a ‘thank you’ appropriate here? Ryusui doesn’t really care. “Cool.”

A laugh. What part of that was funny? “I hold such things in very high regard,” Hyoga continues. “Your talent as captain, too, is laudable.”

It’s not physically possible for Ryusui to care less. “Everyone is talented in their own way.”

Hyoga tilts his head. “Does that not mean no one is special?”

“It does,” Ryusui says, “but that means anyone can be what they want to be. Am I--” He cuts himself off. “I’m right.”

A pause in the conversation stretches to a short silence. Hyoga folds his hands into his lap. “It seems Tsukasa-kun is warming up to you.”

Ryusui grinds his teeth. “What right do you have to talk about him.”

“Quite a bit, considering he is the reason I’m unpetrified,” Hyoga claims. “To seek the assistance of the man who tried to kill him...a bit foolish, don’t you think?”

“You’re saying he should regret reviving you? Y’know, I think we might actually have one thing we agree on.” Ryusui shoves into an upright position to meet Hyoga’s razor-like gaze. “But Tsukasa is kind. You forget that.”

“I would call him soft, actually.”

“I think you call many things the wrong name.”

This isn’t going how Hyoga intended it to, judging by the way he flinches at that. “I’ve no intention to become a threat to him, Ryusui-kun.”

“Hah! Sorry. Not believing you.”

Hyoga releases a slow exhale. “I’ve made my choice of alliance clear.”

“Alliance?” Ryusui scoffs. “‘Alliance’ is a term used when you’re not already a part of something.”

Hyoga’s face twitches. “It’s improper to split hairs over linguistics.”

“A bold statement, coming from someone who’s all talk.”

That might actually get to him, too. In what way, Ryusui can’t tell. “Does this level of hostility towards me have anything to do with your feelings for him?”

Ryusui swears he can feel his blood turn to ice. He wonders if there’s a point to denying it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Maybe he is drunk enough for this. He gives himself a mental slap in the face for using the oldest cliché in the book.

A short sigh. “I’m not planning to say anything to him about it.”

The sparks of contempt are doused with a spray of cool water. “Why?”

“I told you already, did I not? I’m part of the Kingdom of Science now. And I respect you.” Pinprick irises slice through Hyoga’s squint. “I’m not your enemy, Ryusui-kun.”

Ryusui finds himself echoing the words Tsukasa once said to him. “Prove it,” he says, and genuinely hopes someday Hyoga will.

Another moment of silence, then finally a resolute nod. Hyoga swipes his kudayari from the counter and spins on his toes, then slips out of the bar without another word.

He passes Tsukasa and Kohaku on his way out.

Ryusui patches together an ad-hoc composure. “If it isn’t our two strongest fighters!” he greets. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Kohaku thrusts her hands to her hips. “Hah! I’m here because Tsukasa--”

“--invited her to accompany me to decompress after a difficult day,” Tsukasa finishes, interrupting her with a nudge of his elbow. She only gives him a mischievous look in response.

Welp, Ryusui’s too drunk to try to decipher their non-verbal cues right now. Hell, he’s not even sure he’d be able to decipher any verbal ones. “Full disclosure, my friends. I’m a bit tipsy at the moment.”

“Oh?” Kohaku’s impish smirk widens. “What kind of drunk are you, Ryusui?”

“I’m loud!” Ryusui booms. Francois doesn’t bother stifling a laugh. “And god, I’m an oversharer. Did you know I once inhaled a bee on a dare when I was eight?”

Tsukasa frowns. “How could we possibly know that?”

“It was on my Wikipedia page,” Ryusui tells him.

Kohaku blinks cluelessly. “What’s a Wikipedia?” 

Ryusui clears his throat. “You see, Kohaku, when the internet and the dictionary love each other very much--”

“It was a nonprofit online encyclopedia,” Tsukasa cuts in, then realizes a second too late that she doesn’t know any of those concepts, either. “Senku, but inanimate.”

Hey, Ryusui has to give him credit. That’s a pretty solid way of describing it. “Did you have a Wikipedia, too, Tsukasa?” she asks.

“I did.” Tsukasa scowls. “Though I wasn’t the one who created it.”

Kohaku leans up against the bar. “Seems like you two have another thing in common.”

Tsukasa flushes at that. “It wasn’t exactly rare. Information about virtually anyone could be searched via Google.”

“What’s a Google?”

Ryusui decides to answer this one. “It’s what Yo does to himself when he thinks no one is looking.”

“Oh, ew.” Kohaku spins around to leave. “Well, you two have fun Googling each other.”

Tsukasa flinches, and if Ryusui didn’t know better he might almost think Tsukasa looked... nervous. “Kohaku. Get--get back here.”

“Ooh, would you look at the time!” Kohaku checks her empty wrist. “It’s practical jokes with Gen o’clock!”

Tsukasa levels her an unimpressed glare. “You learned what a wristwatch was yesterday.”

“Hah! As if that matters.” She’s got on a catlike grin. “Now if you’ll excuse me, we have to decide whether to switch out the salt with sugar or tea leaves with crushed beetles.”

“Do both!” Ryusui calls after her, and she gives him a thumbs up before disappearing up the stairs.

Tsukasa stares at the empty space where she’d been for a few moments before sighing in resignation, then hesitantly slips into the seat beside Ryusui.

“Welcome, Tsukasa-sama,” Francois greets. “Would you like something to drink? I’m happy to craft you something non-alcoholic.”

Tsukasa eyes Ryusui’s empty pitchers. “What was in those?”

“Two very large, very strong beers!” Ryusui responds. “Though if I’m recalling correctly from our riveting game of roulette, you’re not a fan.”

Tsukasa shrugs. “Well, I’ve never had alcohol before.”

“Never?”  

“I was only eighteen when I was petrified,” Tsukasa explains. “Though I’m of age now, I haven’t much had the desire or opportunity. But I’m not against it, I suppose.”

“Would you like to give it a try?” Francois offers. 

Tsukasa fluffs up the plume of fur around his neck. “Alright.”

“Ahaha, you’re in luck!” Ryusui declares with a snap. “Francois’ craft beers are the best of the best!”

“You flatter me, Ryusui-sama,” Francois says smoothly, filling a cup with molten gold and pushing it towards Tsukasa. “Do give me your honest feedback.”

Tentatively, Tsukasa lifts the mug; inspects it the way one would look at a slide under a microscope, as if he’s hoping to solve some fundamental puzzle of the universe in the stream of bubbles. A cautious sip, and his scrutinizing look deepens.

“Well?” Ryusui prompts. “Whaddya think?”

“Hm. I don’t like it,” Tsukasa says, then downs the rest of the pitcher in a single gulp.

Ryusui shakes his hands frantically. “Whoa, slow down there, Lion King!”

Tsukasa coughs once into his hand. “Don’t concern yourself. Given my size and metabolic rate, I would presume my alcohol tolerance is very high.”

“Yeah, but you’ve never had it before,” Ryusui tries. He signals his butler once more. “Hit me again, Francois.”

“Me too,” Tsukasa adds. Francois looks cautious but obliges their orders.

“Bottoms up!” Ryusui says, then manages to get half of the mug down before needing to come back up for air.

Though apparently he’s the only one who needs it. Tsukasa’s is empty again. 

“I thought you said you didn’t like it,” Ryusui says, jabbing a finger towards the vacant cup. 

Tsukasa clears his throat. “I changed my mind.”

“It’s been two minutes!”

“It was a very compelling two minutes.”

Fair enough. Ryusui takes another long sip. “Well, you know what they say about alcohol.”

“You may have to be a bit more specific,” Tsukasa snorts.

A clarion sound reverberates throughout the remainder of his drink when Ryusui flicks a nail against the glass. “Liquid courage.”

Tsukasa stares at Ryusui curiously, and damn, maybe if he were sober he’d be able to decipher that look in his eyes. Tsukasa inspects his empty mug again, then holds it out to Francois for a refill. “I don’t need any more courage.”

“Yeah,” Ryusui replies, downing the rest of his drink. “Neither do I.”

When Tsukasa’s about a third of the way through his third pitcher and Ryusui’s a quarter done with his fourth, Ryusui speaks again. “So you really had a tough day today?”

“In a way,” Tsukasa exhales, the sound echoing in his drink. “Some of the second-string fighters are not fans of my methods. Ginro insisted I was being too hard on them.”

“Oi, consider the source. Personally, I wouldn’t mind if you were hard on--” He takes a long gulp to cut himself off. “I’m sure they know deep down that you’re doin’ what’s best for ‘em. I mean, look at ya!” Ryusui gestures to the expanse of bare chest peeking through his cloak. “Those are, uh, pretty indisputable results.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa takes another pensive sip. “They...do know. Many of them fought against me in our final battle.”

How often does Tsukasa stress himself out over that? Ryusui doesn’t think he wants to know. “I’m sure they trust ya now, though!”

Tsukasa absently swirls his drink. “I’m sure they do,” he mumbles.

It’s not that he seems unconvinced of it. But there’s missing faith in something, and Ryusui has a bad feeling about what. “Tsukasa,” he begins, “do you trust yourself?”

“Would you?” Tsukasa snaps. “If the moment god turned his back on humanity and left his spot vacant, you decided to enact divine judgment upon humanity in his place, would you still be able to trust yourself? Would you?!”

Oh shit, is Tsukasa a depressed drunk? Not for the first time, Ryusui wonders why they hell they haven’t revived a therapist yet. 

Tsukasa looks so, so lost. Ryusui’s only caught glimpses of it before now. The weight dragging down his shoulders, the way he sometimes talks about himself less like a person and more like a ticking bomb. If Tsukasa is the defendant, then he’s also the judge who’s given a guilty verdict before the trial has even begun.

It’s a little heartbreaking. It’s also tragically unfair.

So Ryusui clears his throat, mustering the last of the eloquence he can dig up. “I would!”

Tsukasa makes a face like that hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. “Why?”

Ryusui takes both of Tsukasa’s hands in his own. Tsukasa startles, but doesn’t fight it. “Because you changed!”

Tsukasa blinks. “I...changed?”

“Course ya did,” Ryusui tells him. “You’ve pledged your life to protect everyone on my ship. And you’ve got so many friends around you who’ll support you in case you ever need help!” He leans in closer. “Besides, you even allowed a greedy guy like me into your life. If that doesn’t convince ya that you’ve changed, I don’t know what the hell would.”

Tsukasa’s expression is wistful, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to believe it. “Well, yes, but you’re...”

Ryusui swears he can feel his heart literally stop. “I’m what?”

“...special.”

Ryusui releases both of Tsukasa’s hands out of utter shock. “I’m special?” he repeats. “In what way?”

Tsukasa waves his arm in a stumbling gesture. “Many...many ways.”

“Can--can you tell me one? ”

Fuck, maybe Tsukasa isn’t a depressed drunk. His fingers find their way to Ryusui’s chin and he tilts it up gently to meet his eyes, the same way he’d done when Ryusui dared him to steal the heart he’d already given him. “You are a very, very good dancer.”

The ambient sounds of the bar can barely be heard over the thrum of blood in Ryusui’s ears. “Hey, Tsukasa,” he whispers, “wanna hear a fun fact?”

Tsukasa nods slowly.

“I’ve thought you were amazing since the moment I met you,” Ryusui confesses. “And every time I talk to you, my first impression becomes more right.”

“I thought you were not a good person when I met you,” Tsukasa responds. “And every time I talk to you, my first impression becomes more wrong.”

Even in his haze, it’s impossible not to notice that the bar has gone silent; but all Ryusui can do is wonder what it could cost him to press their lips together, because he’d pay anything.  

While Ryusui is still hesitating, Tsukasa pulls back. “I...I’m feeling a bit lightheaded,” he stutters. “Perhaps you were right. My alcohol tolerance needs work.” He pushes to his feet and isn’t particularly subtle about how hard he grips the counter so as not to sway. “I’m going to sleep it off. Goodnight, Ryusui. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See ya,” Ryusui says, and waits until he knows Tsukasa will be asleep before he finally goes back.

* * * {T-10} * * * 

When Ryusui awakens, there’s a blunt, crushing ache pulsing through his skull, along with an acrid tang that starts at the back of his tongue and churns its way down to his stomach. The thin strip of light peeking in through the dormitory window feels like a personal insult to his wellbeing. The soft snoring of his fellow crewmates sounds like a heavy-duty lawnmower. Getting up seems like it’ll be a Herculean feat. 

He glances to the bunk beside him to find Tsukasa already up, absently braiding a thin section of his long hair. He notices Ryusui’s eyes on him a few seconds later.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Tsukasa murmurs. “How are you feeling?”

He feels like he fought god and lost. “Totally freakin’ fantastic.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa looks amused. “Will you still be able to perform our morning duties?”

Ryusui nods. “Of course! I’ve done much more through much worse.” He pushes to a sitting position, ignoring the nausea that surges up his windpipe. “Ahaha, wanna carry me down though?”

Tsukasa snorts. “How about I push you? That might wake you up.”

“So cold!” Ryusui laughs and clasps his heart in mock offense. He tugs off his sleep shirt and throws on his usual coat, and is he imagining Tsukasa’s eyes lingering on him as he gets dressed? Probably. “And here I thought we bonded last night.”

Tsukasa drifts to his side once the two of them climb down. “Admittedly, I did enjoy it.”

“That so?” Ryusui chirps, and the warmth that spreads in his chest makes it a little easier to ignore the biting cold. “Hey, I’ve got a great idea. Why don’t ya tell me another way that I’m special?”

Okay, maybe he’s pushing his luck. Tsukasa reddens, and Ryusui stumbles. “You’re especially irritating,” Tsukasa chuckles, then he throws Ryusui over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Ack!” Ryusui kicks his feet. “Put me down!”

God, did he really just say that? This is the opposite of a problem. “And allow our graceful captain to fall flat on his ass?” Tsukasa returns, and Ryusui can hear the smile in his voice. “Not likely.”

Once they reach the main deck and Tsukasa sets him beside the sail, Ryusui can’t help but give him a suggestive grin. He’s determined to get the last word. “You sure you didn’t just wanna get your hands on me again?”

Tsukasa smirks. “Perhaps.”

For all his flirting, it’s kind of funny how poorly Ryusui handles it when Tsukasa actually flirts back. “What?”

The subject isn’t dwelled upon. Tsukasa points a finger towards Ginro and Matsukaze, who are cuddled under a blanket beside the opposite mast. “We should notify them of our arrival.”

Matsukaze hears their approaching footsteps and spins his head over his shoulder. “Ginro-sama,” he says. “Our shift is complete.”

“Finally!” Ginro heaves. His body wracks with a shiver. “Matsukaze, I’m too frozen to move. Please carry me.”

Matsukaze lifts him in a bridal carry without complaint. Ginro’s face heats up like a desert sunrise. “Of course. Let’s go inside.”

Ryusui never thought he’d see the day where he was jealous of Ginro. He can’t help but laugh at himself. 

“It’s not that cold,” Ryusui says after the two fighters disappear below deck. “Have I ever told ya the epic story of when I sailed through half-frozen waters in the middle of a snowstorm? It’s quite the heroic tale!”

“I don’t believe you have,” Tsukasa replies, unfurling the woven cloth to catch a swell of passing wind. He secures the rope to the mast, then turns to look at Ryusui expectantly. “Well?”

Ryusui tilts his head. “Well what?”

“Are you going to tell it?”

It takes a second for his words to sink in. “You want to hear my sailing story?”

“It’s something that matters to you, correct?” Tsukasa leans casually against the mast. “Then of course I want to hear it.”

How rude would it be to climb him like a pole right now? “So you... desire it?”

Tsukasa snorts. “Must I phrase it like that?”

“Of course!” Ryusui says with a snap. “Desire is justice! Am I wrong?”

“I think you are, actually.”

Ryusui shakes off the momentary shock with a hearty laugh. “Ahaha! Wouldn’t be the first time, won’t be the last!” He hops closer to Tsukasa but keeps enough distance between them to avoid inevitably smacking him in the face as he acts out the tale. “Alright, then let us begin the story. It was a cold, dark day in December, in fact, the coldest and darkest day yet...”

No sailing story is complete without a wealth of dramatic, exaggerated details, and gratuitous descriptions of every slight peril. But Tsukasa hangs on to his every word, listening intently, as if he truly believes each one of them is important. When he’s finished, Tsukasa offers him an amused smile.

“Very impressive,” he hums. “I’m relieved you circumnavigated the blizzard of sharks.”

“As am I!” Ryusui agrees. “My sailor’s intuition is never wrong.”

“Is that so?” Tsukasa replies. A chilly zephyr passes between them. “Then what is your sailor’s intuition telling you right now?”

Ryusui thrusts his hands to his hips excitedly. “About what?”

Only a gentle grin in response. “Nothing.” He points towards the horizon. “Ah, sunrise.”

They watch together in silence as the rays pierce the clouds, painting them translucent shades of gold and silver.

It’s pretty tough to get any work done after that. Thanks to the stubborn cold, it’s a sluggish day for the whole crew, as the ship trudges across the waters like a sloth through mud. Ryusui and Senku spend the better part of the midmorning holed up in the communications room trying and failing to connect with Ruri back in Japan. Ryusui’s forced to rely on his sailor’s intuition, and Tsukasa’s offhand comment about it this morning sure doesn’t help.

At least when they’re above deck he can watch Tsukasa and the other fighters as they’re hard at work. He can feel himself staring, and is helpless to do anything about it. It’s like his focus is superglued to Tsukasa’s abs.

A sharp jab in the ribs is what finally jolts him out of his daze. “Stop drooling all over the deck,” Senku reprimands.

Ryusui scrubs his face with his hands. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Oh god, I wanna lick his throat.”

That earns him a judgmental glare. “Please seek help.”

“From who?”

“Anyone but me!”

Ryusui’s impending response to that is cut off by Gen’s arrival. “Senku-chan, why don’t you talk about me like that?” he whines.

“Because I have a gag reflex,” Senku deadpans.

“I don’t!” Ryusui chimes in.

Senku’s disgusted expression worsens. Ryusui should probably feel more insulted than he does. “Oi, I didn’t need to know that. Gen, use your mentalist powers to erase that image from my mind.”

Gen unceremoniously showers Senku in flower petals. “Did it work, my beloved?”

“Beloved?” Senku sneers. He blows a flower petal from his hair. “What the hell? That’s so gay.”

Ryusui quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, Senku, you’re dating a man.”

“I don’t see your point.” Senku brushes them off his science dress with a scowl and turns his focus to his pouting boyfriend. “That didn’t do one millimeter of help, mentalist. Were you even trying?”

“Hmph!” Gen turns up his nose. “If Senku-chan thinks I’m so useless, then perhaps I’ll take my talents elsewhere!” Then he marches off.

Senku heaves a sigh. “So dramatic...” 

“Is our fearless leader the one who’s having romantic troubles now?” Ryusui gives a triumphant snap. “Oh, how the tables have tabled!”

“That wasn’t even sort of right.”

“Ahaha! Exactly my point.” 

“Was it though?” Senku folds his arms. “Gen and I are fine. He’s just been mopey because I’ve been so busy lately. He hasn’t been able to be as clingy as he normally is.”

Says the guy who drags him back to your side if you’re ever more than five meters from him, Ryusui responds internally. He can’t resist a little teasing. “Ah, how unfortunate it must be to not have a crew assignment with the man you desire...do tell me what that feels like.”

Okay, that was a terrible idea. Senku’s lips split into a Cheshire grin, and instantly Ryusui knows he’s made a huge mistake. “You really wanna do this with me?” he taunts. “Fine, then. This’ll be exhilarating.” He waves a hand towards the opposite deck. “Oi, Tsukasa, get your ass over here! Ryusui has something to tell you!”

“What?!” Ryusui hisses under his breath. “Senku, how could you do this to your favorite captain!”

“You’re our only captain,” Senku says with a smug look as Tsukasa hesitantly approaches. “Which means you’re also my least favorite.”

“Too cruel,” Ryusui groans, and wonders if he can make an excuse to bolt before Tsukasa arrives at their position, because he’s got nothing.

Tsukasa stops in front of them. “Is something wrong?” he asks. “What do you need to tell me?”

“N-Nothing!” Ryusui stutters. Nice, strong start. Tsukasa’s brows knit with concern. “I was just thinking...” Yeah, he’s fucked. Drawing a blank would imply there’s something he can even write with. “...that you need a hat!” He swipes his hat frantically off his head and drops it onto Tsukasa’s with a high-pitched laugh. “Perfect!”

Senku face-palms. That’s fine. Ryusui deserves it after that.

“Hm.” Tsukasa looks up, and Ryusui resigns himself to the notion that Tsukasa’s probably gonna chuck it off the side of the ship, but instead all he gives is a quiet snort. He slowly slips off his cape and drapes it around Ryusui’s shoulders, and when he fastens the clasp his fingers brush against the bare part of Ryusui’s chest. He examines his handiwork with a satisfied grin. “That’s a good look for you, Prince Charming.”

He casually pivots back towards the training deck, leaving Ryusui in dumbstruck silence behind him.

“Damn,” Senku curses once they’re alone again. “That actually went well.”

“Senku,” Ryusui chokes, “is it scientifically possible for a human to spontaneously combust? Because I think there’s a very real chance it might actually happen.”

Senku strikes his contemplative pose. “Well, it’s never been recorded to have happened before, but making inferences solely based on past events is an abuse of the conditional law of probability. If, for example, there were infinitesimally small likelihood that all the atoms in your body could suddenly shift to a hyperactive state, the chances of spontaneously combusting are low but never zero...”

Ryusui tunes the rest of his explanation out. 

* * * {T-7} * * * 

“Hey, Ryusui,” Kohaku says, when Ryusui is on his way out of the engine room and passes her emerging from the weapons cache. “You like him, don’t you?”

Ryusui stops in his tracks. “Huh?”

“Tsukasa,” she adds, as if it were somehow unclear.

There has to be some way he can change the subject. “Um.”

“Hah! Thought so.” Kohaku matches his strides when he starts walking again. “What are you going to do about it?”

Continue to pine in agony from afar. “Not to worry. I have a brilliant plan!”

“Sure,” Kohaku snorts. “Now what are you really doing?”

Ah, those sharp eyes of hers will be the death of him. Ryusui can’t help but deflate a little. “I’m afraid I’m already doing it.”

“But you’re not doing anything,” she counters.

Ryusui snaps in confirmation. “That’s right! I’ll be sure to give you a prize of one million dragos for your correct answer.”

Kohaku looks like she couldn’t care less about the money. He’s never been able to get her on board with that. “Why?”

When they reach the first staircase, Ryusui scratches the back of his neck. “I have my reasons.”

“What are they?”

He really should’ve expected that. She’s always seen emotions as something she can take a blunt instrument to. “Do forgive me if I keep them to myself.”

“It’s not like you to be shy,” Kohaku points out. Yeah, it’s also not like him to fall head over heels for one specific person, but here he is. “Why won’t you give it a try?”

She really doesn’t get it? “Kohaku, he does not desire me in the way I desire him.”

“You sound awfully sure of that.”

Ryusui pauses. “Should I have a reason not to be?”

The look she gives him in response to that somehow gets him further from an answer.

“Well, anyways,” Kohaku says, readjusting the binding on the tip of her spear. “Why don’t you come fishing with us?” 

“Thank you for your gracious invitation, but I’ll have to decline,” Ryusui replies. “If I saw Tsukasa kill a shark with his bare hands, I think I’d moan a little.”

Kohaku pulls a face. “Please don’t Google yourself over it.” Ryusui did make up that euphemism, didn’t he? “He’s not even coming with us. It’s just gonna be me, Matsukaze, and Hyoga today.”

“Oh.” Well, Ryusui still isn’t terribly interested. “Then where is he?”

Kohaku shrugs. “I think I saw him in the greenhouse with Suika.” A feline smirk curls at her lips. “Maybe you should join them.”

“Maybe I will!” Ryusui replies. “You have my thanks, Kohaku. I hope many fish die at your hands today.”

Kohaku gives him a salute before dashing up the stairs ahead of him. Ryusui makes his way to the greenhouse under the kaleidoscope of daylight, reflecting off the transparent panels like stained glass. He slips through the door and clicks it shut behind him, then turns his attention towards the dense array of foliage, leaves and fruit mingling amongst one another as they reach for the sun. 

When he finally finds Tsukasa and Suika, the two of them are reclining atop a picnic blanket. There’s a basket of fresh fruit and bread laid out in front of them, along with a pitcher of orange juice so fresh-squeezed that Ryusui can still see the juicer beside Tsukasa and a sticky coating of nectar on his hands. He seems to be in the middle of telling Suika a story, and a necklace of seashells hangs from her collar. 

Ryusui fists a hand into his collar and clenches his chest. Oh god, that’s too fucking cute.

“Tsukasa! Suika!” he calls, padding over to them. “Can I crash your party?”

“Ryusui!” Suika greets. She scoots over on the blanket and taps the place beside her excitedly. “Suika would love for you to join!”

Tsukasa gives him a fond look that melts Ryusui’s insides into a puddle of goo. “Sure,” Tsukasa says. He passes Ryusui a slice of bread and a peach once he plops down on the blanket. “I was just telling Suika the story of The Little Mermaid.”

“I love that one!” Ryusui replies. “What part were you at?”

“Near the end,” Tsukasa says, and Ryusui nods for him to continue. Tsukasa clears his throat. “With Triton’s mystical trident in hand, Ursula stole its magic and grew to a monstrous size, growing larger, larger, until she loomed over Eric and Ariel like a giant. She used its power to command the ocean to her evil bidding, calling a violent maelstrom over the ocean and crashing her tentacles atop the terrified lovers. Ariel begged Eric to escape, but he refused to leave her behind.”

“Ursula used the trident to raise wrecked ships from the bottom of the sea, and unbeknownst to her, Eric grasped the helm of a wayward boat and dragged himself to the surface, commandeering the derelict vessel with his captain’s guile and sheer determination. Just as Ursula prepared to strike Ariel with a bolt of lightning, Eric steered the sharpest end of the ship and-- and--” 

Tsukasa flinches just as Ryusui manages to recall what happens next. “H-Hey, Tsukasa, you don’t have to tell this part--”

“--he steered the sharpest end of the ship to impale Ursula through the heart to protect someone he loved, and the evil Ursula shrank into the sea, never to be seen again. Eric and Ariel reunited, and, moved by their love for one another, Triton turned Ariel into a human so they could be together, and they all lived happily ever after.”

Ryusui and Suika clap excitedly, but it’s hard to enjoy Tsukasa’s surprisingly skillful storytelling when he still looks rattled like that. “Sorry,” Tsukasa says sheepishly. “I...may have blocked that part out.”

“Suika thinks it was still a great story!” Suika says in a bright tone. “But that is a bad memory Mirai-chan told me about...” She tightens her grip around the picnic blanket as she casts a glance towards Ryusui. “And to think something like that happened again, but with Ryusui saving me instead!”

Shock spills across Tsukasa’s features like a glass knocked off a high shelf. “...what?”

Ryusui laughs awkwardly. “Uh, Suika--”

“It’s true!” she interrupts. “When we were on Treasure Island and Kirisame came to attack the ship, we didn’t know what was about to happen and thought we were all going to die! But instead of trying to escape...Ryusui used his last moments to kick me away from the ship. Suika was so sad! Thankfully everything ended up being okay, and he was saved after the invaders crushed his body by being unpetrified. Just like you!”

Tsukasa looks like a gentle tap would shatter him into millions of tiny, unfixable pieces. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

Ryusui snaps cheerfully in a feeble attempt to ease some of the tension. “Ahaha! What’s a little brush or two with death. Am I wrong?”

Tsukasa opens his mouth to speak, but Suika does first. “Look!” she says, pointing up at the sky. For a child her age, she’s surprisingly good at deflecting. Ryusui makes a mental note to reward her with a hundred thousand dragos later. “That cloud looks like Chalk!”

Ryusui glances skyward. It does vaguely take the shape of a puppy, but it looks more like something you’d find on a Rorschach test. It looks like a blood splatter to Ryusui. Yeah, that can’t mean anything good about his mental health. “Whoa, you’re right. It totally does!”

“Hm,” Tsukasa hums, and his eyes still haven’t left Ryusui. When he catches Ryusui staring, he eventually looks up. “Oh, I see it as well.”

Emotionally exhausted, Ryusui flops onto his back to get a better view of the sky. “Hey, that one looks like a tree.”

“It’s just a blob,” Tsukasa says in an amused voice, leaning back onto the blanket as well. Suika tumbles down between them.

“No, Suika sees it too!” Suika says. Tsukasa chuckles.

“If you say so.” He gestures towards a streaky haze of cirrus clouds. “Don’t those look like tiger stripes?”

“Nah, they’re ramen noodles,” Ryusui insists.

“You’re just hungry,” Tsukasa says back.

“And you're both wrong! They’re maple leaves!” Suika argues.

The three of them cloud-watch for a while after that, spotting shapes in the shifting mists that smear across the heavens. Suika cuddles between them, and Ryusui lazily munches on the snacks in the basket, dripping peach juice all over his cheeks. After a while, Yuzuriha enters the greenhouse to pick food for dinner.

“This is so cute!” she says, hopping over to them. “Are you guys having a picnic with Suika?”

“Sure are!” Ryusui chirps, as Tsukasa gives a slow nod. Yuzuriha claps excitedly.

“Aw, it’s like you’re her parents!”

“Hm. I suppose,” Tsukasa says, at the same time Ryusui squeaks, “Parents?”

Ryusui casts a bewildered look at Tsukasa for his response. “You suppose what now?”

Tsukasa flushes and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean--I understand where she saw the imagery. It’s a typical familial activity. There’s nothing more to it than that.”

He can’t help shrinking a little. “R-Right.”

There’s a mischievous glint in Yuzuriha’s stare. “I see,” she giggles. “Well, I have lots of fruit to pick! And it looks like your basket is empty too. Suika, why don’t you come with me for a bit so you can pick more peaches for everyone? Although Ryusui and Tsukasa will be alone for a bit...”

“Sure!” Suika springs to her feet. “Great Detective Suika can be useful, too!” She gives them a thumbs up. “Suika will be back soon so you won’t be lonely!”

Suika and Yuzuriha rush off into the maze of trees. Ryusui and Tsukasa watch them disappear, then Ryusui swivels back around to face the warrior.

“Hey, you’re a great storyteller,” he says. “You’re really good with kids, huh?”

Tsukasa raises his shoulder in what passes for a shrug. “There were other children in the hospital sometimes when I would visit my sister. They would often listen when I read to her.” He cards a hand through his hair. “You seem to be good with them, too.”

“Of course!” Ryusui returns. “I love kids.”

“Ah, right.” Tsukasa readjusts his cloak. “You love everyone.”

Ryusui beams back at him. “Sure do!”

There’s a strangely wistful look in Tsukasa’s eyes. “Hm.” He shakes it off. “It’s nice to spend time with Suika, though. She’s a sweet girl.”

“And brave as hell, too,” Ryusui adds. “You really miss your sister, huh?”

“I do,” Tsukasa replies. “Very, very much.”

“Maybe you should talk with her on the phone next time Ruri calls,” Ryusui suggests. “You can come with me and Senku to the communications room. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled!”

“Really...?” Tsukasa says hopefully. “I would love that.”

“Consider it done!” Ryusui says with a snap. “Bet she’d love if you told her a story, too!”

“Perhaps a different one,” Tsukasa replies, embarrassed. “I had forgotten that final fight scene.”

“Right,” Ryusui mumbles, gesturing a circle around his chest. “Considering your whole skewered-through-the-heart thing.”

“It wasn’t through the heart,” Tsukasa says, and he’s got the audacity to sound offended, too, as if being pierced only through the lung instead somehow makes it any better. “And you’re one to talk. Why didn’t you ever say anything about what happened to you on the ship?”

“Well, it didn’t really come up,” Ryusui falters. “Besides, everyone got petrified, so what happened to me really wasn’t anything special.”

Tsukasa’s rueful frown deepens. “I wish I had been there.”

“Heheh, sure would’ve been helpful to have you on our team back then,” Ryusui agrees. “Mozu and Ibara wouldn’t have stood a chance against you.”

“Not just that,” Tsukasa exhales, then he meets Ryusui’s gaze with something indecipherable in his own. “I would have wanted to protect you.”

Whatever final reservations Ryusui had been still clinging to shatter like a dam, crashing forth a wave of emotion that latches onto his ankles and pulls him into the undertow. And the way Tsukasa is looking at him like he truly would’ve traded his life for Ryusui’s own, like he regrets dying for so long the first time because he missed out on doing it again--it’s too much. The pressure builds in his lungs until it’s so high it’s unbearable, suffocating him with the weight of his confession. The only way to relieve it is to spill out his heart.

“Hey, listen for a second. I need to tell you something important,” he begins, and damn, of course his voice has to sound like it’s been put through a paper shredder. He takes off his hat and rests it beside him, solemn, then he crawls forward until he’s kneeling right in front of Tsukasa, who’s gone perfectly still. “Tsukasa, I--”

“Great Detective Suika is back!” Suika announces from behind him. “With lots more peaches to continue our picnic!”

And just like that, the fragile moment snaps. Ryusui slumps his forehead onto Tsukasa’s shoulder and can’t help but let out a breathless laugh. “Ah, never mind.” 

Ryusui can feel Tsukasa sigh from where he’s leaning against him. “Later, perhaps?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Ryusui croaks, and wonders if he’ll find the strength to try it again. “Perhaps.”

* * * {T-5} * * * 

When it hits, it’s the worst storm Ryusui has ever faced.

Thunder tears the sky in two as if it were paper, electrocuting the waves with half a billion volts of raw power. Capillaries of lightning spatter the clouds like blood through gunsmoke, drenching the bleach-white sails of the Perseus in graveyard blue. Rain pours down in tragic sheets, already mourning the crew’s mass funeral. The ship is thrashed like a bird in a cage.

“All non-essential personnel below deck! Now!” Ryusui booms from his place at the helm, and even his loudspeaker voice can barely be heard over the violent waters crashing a tantrum against the ship. 

Another bolt barely misses the starboard deck, but the force of it striking the water shatters the ceiling of the greenhouse. The left bow sail tears and snaps off the rope, its limp wet mass plastering against the side of the ship like a smashed butterfly. Thunder wracks through the atmosphere again, tectonic and deafening. The air smells of scorched wood and burning salt.

Ryusui is drenched. He’s freezing. Senku and Chrome are somewhere behind him; not that he can see. Magma is beside the aft sail, gripping the line in manual adjustments like a human anchor. Everyone else is down below. Anything more than a skeleton crew would be too many lives at risk. And anyone still worried for his safety wouldn’t dare disobey.

Then from the corner of his eye, he catches motion -- only a blur of it, but it’s small, and vaguely in the shape of a person. It looks enough like Suika for him to abandon his post and chase after it. 

“Suika!” he calls over the pouring rain. “Get back--”

He arrives just in time to watch what he can now tell is an empty barrel falling into the ocean. The breath of relief is barely through him when a bolt of lightning strikes the deck, blinding his eyes with a flash of white light and shooting visceral tremors straight through his heart. 

The subsequent aftershock throws him overboard. He smacks back-first into the water, knocking whatever breath was left in his lungs into the sea. 

Ryusui has never once been afraid of the ocean. He finds adventure in its endless expanse, comfort in its aquamarine hues, solace in its sprays of seafoam. Even the storms are a welcome challenge to put his skills to the test, to go one-on-one in a duel against nature. He won every battle. He thought he always would.

Not this time.

Poseidon has him by the throat, a broken toy discarded by the hands of an unamused god. Every time he claws for the surface he’s stomped back underwater like an ant beneath a boot. A roar echoes from the depths, ravenous, lunging with bared teeth to swallow him whole. The bitter salty taste on his tongue is as much from seawater as it is his own blood.

Ahaha, am I about to die?

Well, everyone’s gotta die sometime. It’s a little earlier than he would’ve liked, but life sure was fun! It would’ve been nice to see Sai again, to build the rocket and claim ownership of the moon, but he supposes he’ll have to be satisfied with just this. He doesn’t even think anyone saw him go overboard. Out here, it’s just him and a watery tomb.

On one of his final voyages before the petrification, he almost lost his first mate to a storm about half as bad as this. When he’d asked her with bated breath what drowning felt like, all she could tell him was, ‘I don’t know, Nanami-san. Not everything feels like something else.’

Yeah, she was right. Even if he could think clearly right now, he wouldn’t be able to find the words. But it’s not so bad. It’s not so bad, his consciousness slipping away like he’s falling asleep. He might as well keep his eyes open, if he’s going to die the way that he lived. With bravery, and desire that will follow him into the great beyond.

You know what they say, he says to himself, as his lungs fill with ocean and everything blurs to hazy spots, we’re here for a good time, not a long--

Then something swims into his vision, dark and undulating. Ryusui’s last mildly delusional thought is that it kind of looks like a mermaid, and then he blacks out.

When Ryusui awakens, there’s something soft and grainy beneath his back. His eyes sting like they’re being pierced by thousands of tiny needles, and he squeezes them tighter, hoping to ease the pain before he tries to open them. Sensations return to his body one by one.

There’s no rocking beneath his feet, so he must not be on the ship. His bones ache through the marrow. He’s barefoot. There are hands in his hair. A finger ghosts over his lips.

Ryusui casts his eyes open, stinging be damned.

Tsukasa is leaning above him, chin dipped forward as he tilts Ryusui’s back. His plush lips part, he draws in a deep breath, and then--

--Ryusui’s windpipe chooses this moment to hack out his lungs.

“Oh,” Tsukasa says as he jerks back, his chiseled cheeks coated in a light dusting of rouge. “You're awake.”

“No!” Ryusui shoots to a sitting position. “Nonono, I’m not awake! Please continue with what you were about to do!”

Tsukasa presses his fingers to his temple. “I’m not going to give CPR to a conscious person,” he stutters. “It’s an unnecessary procedure for someone who does not need to be rescued.”

Who said he doesn’t still need to be rescued? “Perhaps you should try it anyway as a contingency measure.”

Only a flat look in response. Well, it was worth a shot. “My training did not cover that.”

“Cover what? Conscious CPR?” Ryusui snickers. “Yeah, guess MMA wouldn’t really teach ya how to kiss, would they? You must’ve gotten that experience elsewhere.”

Tsukasa flushes and looks away.

“Ahaha, could it be you’ve never kissed anyone before?” Ryusui chuckles, and at Tsukasa’s increasingly embarrassed expression, he concludes,  “Oh my god, you've never kissed anyone before.”

Tsukasa clenches his fists. “I never had the time.”

“It takes like, three seconds!”

“Hm. I suppose it does if you just kiss anyone,” Tsukasa counters. “But not if you kiss someone you truly want to kiss.”

Ryusui tilts his head. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Before the petrification,” Tsukasa explains, “there was never anyone I wanted to kiss.”

“Really?” Ryusui scoots closer again. “You never met anyone you wanted to kiss?”

“Not back then, no.”

“I see.” Ryusui taps his finger against his chin, and can’t help the feeling that he’s missing something, but he’ll cut himself some slack on account that he almost just violently drowned. He scans the area around them: a pristine, sandy coastline stretches as far as the eye can see, bookmarked by the cobalt blue ocean and a dense forest in the main part of what must be an island. “Where are we?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Tsukasa responds. “The storm carried us out pretty far.”

Ryusui scowls. “You weren’t even supposed to be above deck.” He folds his arms in indignation. “You disobeyed my orders!”

“Forgive me if I don’t feel terribly guilty about that.”

“Why did you even come back up?!”

A long pause. “I don’t know,” Tsukasa says, far, far too late, as if he’d been rehearsing an answer to this question and gave up at the last second. “I just...had a bad feeling.”

How is that somehow worse than Ryusui was expecting? “Tsukasa, you could’ve died!”

“You would’ve died.”

It’s hard to fight that, but Ryusui is a little hysterical right now. “Yeah, but I’m the captain! It’s my job to put myself at the most risk!” he tries. “I thought I was the one without any brain cells, and here you are just diving in after me without thinking, or even tying a rope around yourself first to keep from--”

But he cuts himself off, and before he even registers what he’s doing he throws his arms around Tsukasa. Ryusui buries his face in the dip of his collarbone.

“Don’t do that again,” he mumbles into the damp fur of Tsukasa’s cape. 

“Sorry,” Tsukasa chuckles, carding a hand through Ryusui’s hair. When he tucks a tendril behind Ryusui’s ear, Tsukasa meets his eyes. “But in my defense, I warned you many, many times that I would risk my life for you.”

All the energy that had been fueling him dissipates at once, and he sighs, defeated. “You--you did.” He grips the hand holding Tsukasa’s cloak tighter. “Thank you, Tsukasa. I am in your eternal debt.”

“I don’t want you in my eternal debt. And don’t thank me yet,” Tsukasa replies, but there’s a wisp of a grin across his lips as he says it. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re stranded on a deserted island.”

“Heh.” Ryusui returns to his own spot in the sand and crosses his legs. “I’ll admit, this is a first.”

“We could try to build a raft?”

“Nah,” Ryusui rejects. “Storm’s still in the air -- I can smell ‘er. We’re best off waiting for the Perseus to come looking for us here.” He leans back on his hands. “Well, you know Senku. He’s probably over there tellin’ the crew there’s a ten billion percent chance we’re still alive.”

“Hm. It’s likely.” Tsukasa wrings out his hair. “Given that he was monitoring the characteristics of the storm, I believe it’s incredibly probable he’ll be able to pinpoint our location in a timely manner.”

“I agree,” Ryusui says with a snap. “But in the meantime, we should explore! Look for supplies, and whatnot. Chart the territory!”

Tsukasa pushes to his feet. “I agree.” He extends a hand to help Ryusui up, and Ryusui takes it so fast it’s almost embarrassing. “Perhaps we can each take a different direction and meet back here in an hour to share our findings.”

Not exactly the plan Ryusui would’ve chosen, but oh well. “Yessir.” He flattens the fabric of his collar to lay flush against his chest. “I’ll see you soon. Happy adventuring!”

Tsukasa gives him an odd look for that, but it’s still mostly in the shape of a smile. Ryusui spins around in the sand, sun-heated and linen white, glittering with flecks of precious metals and pulverized seashells. It’s soft between his toes and becomes cooler when he pads off into the shade beneath a hanging thicket. Palm fronds crosshatch between one another in a makeshift canopy, the slats between the leaves cutting the sun into bright yellow stripes. 

He wishes he had a better idea of where they are. They’re not too far from America now, so it’s likely they’ve crash-landed somewhere off the coast of California. He’s never been here before, but he can tell by the flora and humidity. 

At least there appears to be food here. Bananas, even if they’re hilariously unripe, and catalina cherries. Concave fern leaves funnel in dew, which takes care of fresh water, though not nearly enough in quantity. But it’ll suffice until they’re found by Senku and the crew. 

Ryusui plucks a few cherries then spends a humiliatingly long time trying to climb the banana tree, before eventually chucking a stick at a bushel until it falls from the branches and smacks him in the face. Welp, it’s a good thing Tsukasa didn’t see that. He gathers his spoils and returns to their meeting spot.

Only to find Tsukasa missing. 

Panic arcs through his spine like a strike of lightning. The only reason Tsukasa wouldn’t be back in time is if something was wrong. Ryusui lingers for a moment longer before bolting in the direction Tsukasa started. 

The scenery is almost identical, and even though he’s equipped with his sailor’s intuition, Ryusui’s rattled and waterlogged brain is challenged at navigating the terrain. It takes around a quarter of an hour, but eventually he finds Tsukasa at the edges of a clearing, staring blankly at something up ahead. 

“Tsukasa!” Ryusui hollers, dropping his gatherings into the sand. Tsukasa startles. “Are you okay?”

“Did I miss our reunion point?” he asks. At Ryusui’s fervent nod, Tsukasa frowns. “Ah, I apologize. I must’ve lost track of time.”

Lost track of time? That’s so unlike him that any of Ryusui’s worries that had been quelled upon finding him return tenfold. “What’s wrong?”

Tsukasa gestures vaguely in an angled direction. Ryusui whirls around to face it.

Across from them is a small group of broken statues. Two children, mostly intact but with key parts of their faces weathered beyond repair, and what was presumably their mother and father, smashed to pieces beneath what was once a tree. It must’ve fallen long enough ago for ivy to crawl along the trunk and wrap around their shattered fragments, as if desperately but futilely trying to glue them back together.

Not something Tsukasa would usually be affected by, but it dawns on Ryusui then that there’s a slight chance he’s deeply shaken from almost drowning, too.

“Tsukasa,” Ryusui begins slowly. The moment is delicate, like the sharp edge of a knife. One wrong move, and it’ll cut. “You didn’t do that to their parents. You realize that, right?”

Tsukasa’s lashes flutter shut. “I realize that.”

“Good,” Ryusui acknowledges. “And Yuzuriha fixed all those statues you broke, so it pretty much never happened. Am I wrong?”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Tsukasa thunders, and must immediately regret how loud he shouted from how he recoils at the force of his own words. Ryusui’s own instinctive flinch at his reaction only seems to worsen the guilt twisted across Tsukasa’s features. “Ryusui, I knew what I was doing. I didn’t believe my actions were reversible. Yet I continued to do it, sustained by the constant invention of twisted excuses for mass murder in the pursuit of my own ideals.” He squeezes his fists. “Killing all the upper classes isn’t justice for the damned, it’s genocide.”

Yes, Ryusui is very much aware of that. “We’ve been over this,” he responds, because there’s no point in adding a denial or confirmation. “You changed.”

“And if what I did hadn’t been reversible, would the fact that I’ve changed even matter?” Tsukasa snaps. “If every life I took remained permanent, to whom would I even have to beg forgiveness? Piles of rubble? ” Tsukasa shakes his head. “There is no honor in winning a fight in which your opponent can’t fight back. It’s the ultimate act of cowardice to kill something that can’t even look you in the eyes.”

Holy shit, has he been holding all of this in since the moment he was revived? “Tsukasa--”

“What child would be grateful to awaken in a world governed by the man who murdered their parents?” Tsukasa interrupts. “I was so caught up in the idea that I was willing to taint myself to create the world I had hoped for, that I never considered how ugly I was making it for the very people I was trying to save.”

Tsukasa doesn’t have any sleeves on which to wear his heart, but if he did it would be bleeding. “People followed me because they thought I’d kill them if they didn't,” he continues, “and half my so-called empire betrayed me at the drop of a hat. It’s one thing to follow a leader who will push the limits to achieve their ideals. It’s another thing entirely to be forced to bow to a dictator whose hands are nothing but dirty.”

Ryusui cannot fucking handle how dead Tsukasa’s expression is right now. It’s lifeless as the decimated statues across from them, and he’s looking at his hands as if he hates them, and it makes Ryusui’s insides twist like a wrung towel. 

So he does the only thing he can think of. He crosses the little distance left between them and tenderly takes one of Tsukasa’s hands in his own. He lifts it up to his face, reverent, then presses his lips to the back of Tsukasa’s fingers.

“Hmm,” Ryusui hums, lacing their hands together. “They seem fine to me.”

Tsukasa’s eyes are wide with shock, but at least they look alive again. He lets Ryusui drag him out of the clearing and back to the seam between the woodland and the beach, where Ryusui finds a clean patch of sand for them to sit down. Tsukasa joins him wordlessly.

After a long while, Tsukasa speaks again. “...sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Ryusui says with a reassuring grin. “That’s really been eating at you, hasn’t it?”

A nod. “Yes.”

“I see.” Ryusui wonders whether he should slide closer to Tsukasa or give him some space. “Why didn’t you ever talk about it before?”

“Ryusui,” Tsukasa sighs, “of all people I shouldn’t talk about it with, the one I tried to avoid this topic with the most was you.”

There’s no need to ask why, but it still stings. “Y’know, even though you went about it the wrong way,” Ryusui starts, “the reasons why you did it aren’t quite entirely...not understandable.”

“That’s a lot of double negatives,” Tsukasa says with half a laugh. “It’s just...I couldn’t laugh from the bottom of my heart, in that world. There was so much injustice I was powerless against.”

“That’s totally unfair,” Ryusui murmurs.

“Yes,” Tsukasa replies. “It was.”

“You deserved better than that,” Ryusui insists. “You still do.”

Tsukasa has on a melancholy grin. “Are you sure about that?”

“I am,” Ryusui declares. He eventually gives in to the desire to move closer to Tsukasa. “I wish I knew you back then.”

“I would have resented you,” Tsukasa says, with zero hesitation, eyes transfixed on the ocean’s shimmering under the afternoon.

“Aw, that’s okay,” Ryusui hums, raking his fingers through the space where Tsukasa’s hair ends and the lion’s mane begins. “‘Cause I still woulda helped you out anyway.”

The autumn sun dips below the edge of the horizon, painting watercolor streaks of dusk into the sky; but it’s nothing compared to the warmth dawning between the broken clouds in Tsukasa's eyes. “You are not at all what I thought you’d be.”

“I’m flattered,” Ryusui chuckles. “Given that your first impression of me was...well.” 

“Incorrect,” Tsukasa finishes. “And for that, I truly apologize.”

“Heh, there’s no need.” He nudges Tsukasa with his elbow. “So I’ve convinced you there’s such a thing as righteous avarice?”

“Righteous avarice?” Tsukasa repeats, and then it hits him. “You overheard me and Senku that night on the beach.”

Oh, shit. Nice, real smooth. “Sorry! I--I couldn’t resist.”

“It’s fine,” Tsukasa sighs. ”Come to think of it, if you overheard that, what made you want to further interact with me? How did you know things would turn out this way?”

“I’ve told ya before, haven’t I? Sailor’s intuition,” Ryusui replies, tapping his temple. “And besides, my first in-person impression of you wasn’t when we talked on the beach. I saw you speak to that crowd from afar, remember? You saw how quickly they all placed their faith in you when you told ‘em you wouldn’t let villains do as they want.”

Tsukasa looks away. “Takes one to know one, right?”

Maybe this’ll be too bold, but fuck it. Ryusui grabs Tsukasa’s chin and turns him so their eyes are in a deadlock. “Tsukasa, you’re not a villain.”

Tsukasa shakes his head. “Then what am I?” He raises his hands in air quotes. “‘The Strongest High School Primate?’”

“Oh, right. People called ya that, huh?” Ryusui’s lips downturn at the memory that he’d once jokingly used that nickname, too. “Come to think of it, isn’t that sorta dehumanizing?”

“I never saw myself that way,” Tsukasa replies with a shrug, “though I suppose others did.”

The more Ryusui thinks about it, the less he likes it. “So it bothered you?”

“Honestly? A little,” Tsukasa admits. “It made me seem less like a person, and more like something they’d watch for entertainment in a zoo.” Now Ryusui just feels sick. “I know it was given because of my strength. But being the strongest only has meaning if I use that strength to protect something. In the end, that’s all I ever truly wanted to do.”

Ryusui heaves a sigh. “Tsukasa, do you ever actually listen to yourself speak?”

Tsukasa frowns at him. “What?”

“How can you call yourself a villain when you say stuff like that?” Ryusui stresses. “Maybe you went about things the wrong way for a while, but you were trying to protect people from being wronged the way you had been. You’d been fighting alone for so long that when you finally had the chance to do something about it, you didn't know how.” He offers a reassuring smile. “But now, you figured it out. Because of that, I think you should try to forgive yourself.”

“Hm.” Tsukasa taps the once-impaled place on his chest. “I think the story of The Little Mermaid would say otherwise.”

“Not a chance. It was Ariel who saved the drowning price,” Ryusui counters, pointing at himself with a mischievous smirk, “so that actually makes you the princess, not the villain.”

Tsukasa snorts. “I think I liked Lion King better.”

“Fine then,” Ryusui says. “Lion King.”

“Prince Charming.”

There’s no way Ryusui is ever going to get used to that. “Neither of those characters can be found at sea.”

“And yet here we are.” Tsukasa makes a wide, sweeping gesture towards the landscape ahead of them. “Wherever here is.”

“By California, most likely,” Ryusui replies, and Tsukasa’s impressed expression replenished some of his lost energy. “We should finish gathering supplies before it gets dark. And, uh...why don’t we go together this time.”

It’s not really a question, just a captain’s order phrased in a tone soft enough to be used with someone who’s just had a minor mental breakdown. Fortunately, Tsukasa seems to understand this. 

They resume their exploratoration of the island. Ryusui proudly shows Tsukasa his pile of smashed berries, and Tsukasa takes one look before tossing off his cloak and bolting to the water to go fishing with his bare hands. Which he manages to do successfully, because of course he can. And if Ryusui swings Tsukasa’s cape around his shoulders to keep it warm for him in the meantime, that’s neither here nor there.

When night falls and their stomachs are full, Ryusui and Tsukasa return to their landing spot and lean back against a damp log to gaze up at the stars. It’s nights like this that truly remind him how much time has passed between now and the first petrification: the jewel tones of twilight are untainted by light pollution, pure and vibrant like freshly-made paint. The clouds are free of smog and reflect the evening colors like wildflowers stippled with dandelion fluff. The intricate maze of constellations has shifted, sweeping across the sky in bright, dazzling brushstrokes, spilling over the outdated map grid lines he used to turn to for guidance.

“Hey,” Ryusui says, nudging his elbow against a re-cloaked Tsukasa. “Do you really think Why-man is on the moon?”

Tsukasa shrugs. “If Senku says so, then probably.”

“Oi, I didn’t ask what Senku thinks,” Ryusui corrects. “I asked about you.”

“I do believe so, given the information that we’ve gathered about Why-Man thus far,” Tsukasa contemplates. “But the true nature of Why-Man’s identity still puzzles me.” 

Ryusui props his hands behind his head as he reclines. “Really? I think it’s aliens.”

“Aliens?”

“Yeah, aliens!” Ryusui confirms. “You believe in aliens, don’t ya?”

“Of course I do,” Tsukasa says, like it’d be ridiculous to believe otherwise. 

“You do?” Ryusui says, baffled at the certainty of his statement. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be so sure about something that isn’t totally logical.”

“Believing in aliens is totally logical.”

“How so?”

“It’s the law of large numbers,” Tsukasa starts, as if Ryusui’s supposed to know what that is. “There are four hundred billion stars in the Milky Way galaxy alone, and at least that many planets in it. To believe that not on a single one of them has the simple chemical reaction required to create single-celled organisms occurred is just ridiculous.”

“Heh, guess it makes sense when ya put it like that,” Ryusui agrees. “My reason’s a bit unscientific, though.”

“Is that so?” Tsukasa replies. “What is it?”

Ryusui drags his knees to his chest. “I mean, you said it yourself, didn’t ya? There are billions upon billions of planets in our galaxy,” he begins. “If we were the only ones here, the only ones anywhere ...wouldn’t that just be too lonely? To think that there’s no one else out there, gazing up at the same stars?” He shifts his gaze from the glittering gemstone twilight to the moonlight illuminating Tsukasa’s face. “I think it’d be nice to be insignificant. We’re all just here because a cosmic accident allowed us to exist. So shouldn’t we seize that chance? Make the most of it?”

“Hm.” Tsukasa turns his attention towards the sky. “Perhaps this is unscientific, but I actually don’t think we’re here by accident.”

“Oh?” Ryusui says. “Why not?”

“Could there be such wonders in the universe if no one were meant to appreciate it?” Tsukasa muses. “Such as the vast cosmic expanse, ever-shifting billows of celestial winds, nebulas like jewels hung around the necks of spiral galaxies?” He shakes his head. “In a certain interpretation of quantum mechanics, it’s said that no phenomenon can exist until it’s observed.” Ryusui keeps forgetting Tsukasa’s intelligence is in the same ballpark as Senku’s. “If that’s true, then it implies that the universe cannot exist unless someone is here to observe it. It can’t be given meaning until someone decides that it does.” He returns his gaze to Ryusui. “So perhaps, then, we exist to give the universe meaning, and the universe gives that meaning back to us because we’re meant to share it with someone.”

And the way Tsukasa is looking at him -- it’s so warm, so fond, that if Ryusui’s not careful, he’s going to wind up convincing himself that ‘someone’ Tsukasa is referring to is him. He can’t help but turn away. If he glances back, and Tsukasa is still looking at him like that, that’d be it. He doesn’t know if he could take it.

“Yeah,” Ryusui croaks. “I think you’re right.”

Tsukasa must notice something is off, because after that he leans closer. “Are you getting a headache?”

A headache? That’s weirdly specific. “I’m not. Why?”

Tsukasa laughs. “You told me once that you can’t hold a conversation about philosophy without getting a headache.”

Wow, Ryusui does not remember that. “Ahaha, so you remembered that too?”

“Of course I remembered,” Tsukasa says. “Had you not meant it back then?”

“Oh, I definitely meant it. Francois once tried to debate whether theory dependency helps or hinders scientific progress with me.” He chuckles at the memory. “Yeah, that went about as well as you’d expect. Never again.” 

“I see,” Tsukasa replies. “Then what’s different now?”

Ryusui doesn’t have it in him to not tell the truth. “Because it’s with you!”

“Me?” Tsukasa repeats. Ryusui still can’t look at him, but he thinks he hears Tsukasa gulp. “You’re saying things are different for you when you’re with me?”

“Yes,” Ryusui states. “I am.”

Tsukasa is quiet for a short while. “I feel the same way about you.”

That specific wording either makes his day or breaks his heart. “Cool,” he exhales. “That’s cool.”

They’re both silent for a while after that. They watch as the milky glow of evening fades into an inky night, a vantablack backdrop spread behind a smattering of stars. Tsukasa sets up the small quantity of dry kindling they’d gathered and lights a fire, but its scant size can do little more than offer a slight increase in luminosity. 

He and Tsukasa lay down beside it as they prepare to sleep, and Ryusui shivers, despite himself. Wordlessly, Tsukasa removes his cape from his shoulders and drapes it over Ryusui. 

Ryusui sits up. “Hey, what’re you doing?”

Tsukasa glances over his shoulder. “You were cold.”

“Yeah, but now you’ll be cold.”

“I’ll survive.”

Ryusui folds his arms in protest. “That’s not fair! So will I!”

A long sigh. “Fine.” He beckons Ryusui over. “Then come here.”

Ryusui’s voice catches in his throat. “Huh?”

The sand shifts as Tsukasa closes the remaining distance between himself and Ryusui. A hand readjusts the cloak around both of their shoulders. “We can share.”

Before Ryusui can reply, Tsukasa gently wraps an arm around his back and drags him back down to a resting position, holding Ryusui against his chest. Ryusui has no clue what to do with his hands. “Okay,” he chokes.

He settles for keeping them on Tsukasa’s torso. He prays to whatever’s up there that Tsukasa can’t hear how hard his heartbeat is thumping, because he’s already embarrassed enough over the fact that apparently, twenty-three years of romantic experience isn’t enough to keep him from falling apart in Tsukasa’s arms.

Then he decides Senku’s bad luck is most definitely rubbing off on him, because Tsukasa speaks again seconds later. “Your heart is beating very quickly.”

“Um,” Ryusui says, and can’t think of any way to defend himself.

“Are you still cold?”

“I’m--” But Tsukasa pulls him closer into his chest, rubbing slow circles into Ryusui’s back to warm him up, which is just-- oh, come on. 

“I’m fine,” Ryusui finishes. “You’re like a human furnace. How could I be cold?”

“Alright,” Tsukasa says softly. “Now, let’s try to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Ryusui replies. “Goodnight, Tsukasa.”

Tsukasa brushes a hand through Ryusui’s hair. “Goodnight, Ryusui.”

Ryusui has no intention of sleeping.

Because this could be the closest he ever gets. The only chance to hold him like this. To be in his arms, to feel his soft breath tickling Ryusui’s skin, to move with the rising and falling of Tsukasa’s chest. If he has to accept that what he desires most might not ever be his, he needs to cherish this.

He wants Tsukasa so much it hurts. He wants him so much he can barely breathe. 

He’d never understood the difference between love and being in love until Tsukasa, nor the massive chasm between desire and need.

Own the whole world, or own Tsukasa’s heart. It should really be a tougher decision than it is.

Because Tsukasa has his. Tsukasa could cut open Ryusui’s ribs and reach his claws into the wet cavity of his chest, latch onto his heart and sink his teeth in, and Ryusui wouldn't try to fight it. He wouldn’t even want to. 

Ryusui readjusts his position until he’s resting his head over Tsukasa’s heart.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Are you still awake?”

Tsukasa stirs, but doesn’t reply. Ryusui allows his hand to drift to his hair, tangling his fingers in a mess of cinnamon and coffee. 

This is a bad idea. But he needs to know what it feels like to tell him. Just once, and that will be enough.

“Tsukasa,” Ryusui whispers. He buries his face in Tsukasa’s chest, until all he can hear is Tsukasa’s heartbeat thudding against the tremors of his own. “I’m in love with you.”

* * * {T-4} * * * 

Morning arrives too soon. Ryusui’s not sure how Senku stayed conscious for 3,700 years, because seven hours gave him a real run for his money, and he’s the greediest man in the world.

At least it’s a nice day. Only cirrocumulous clouds inhabit the sky, dragging across the uppermost level of the atmosphere like a dry paintbrush. The sun’s rays are almost unobstructed, bathing the beach in a heat that emanates off the sand like a radiator. A chorus of chirping birds echoes across the shoreline, and they flit overhead in improvised, lively dances.

Tsukasa is a little quieter than normal, but maybe Ryusui’s just reading into it too much. His sailor’s intuition is admittedly still recovering from his beloved ocean trying to kill him. The seas can be so fickle. 

Ah, well. He’ll get over it.

Tsukasa spends a good portion of the morning hunting as Ryusui gathers fresh water from leaves and rocky puddles. They reconvene around lunchtime to share their efforts cooking lunch and engaging in idle chatter to pass the time.

A few hours after the sun passes its halfway point on the sky, a dark speck appears on the horizon.

“Ryusui,” Tsukasa says, pointing an optimistic finger at it. “Is that what I think it is?”

When Ryusui turns to look, his face splits into a smile so wide it hurts. “I’d recognize my own ship blindfolded!” he declares with a snap. “Quick! Let’s gather our remaining firewood to make a signal!” 

Tsukasa zips back to their campsite and returns with his arms piled high, then strikes the flint he’d used the night before to ignore a pyre at their feet. He immediately snuffs out the flames to create a pillar of dark smoke, choking the air with plumes of ash.

“Tsukasa! Ryusui!” a voice calls, and of course the only person who they’d be able to hear from that far away is Taiju. He can’t even imagine how loud it must be for everyone on the ship. His second thought after oh thank fuck is ahaha, poor Ukyo.

It takes another half hour before the Perseus reaches shore. No sooner have they each grasped the ropes tossed down for them are they yanked back up with such force they nearly topple onboard. 

“Yo,” Senku greets with his signature smirk. “Hope you two idiots are ready to work ten billion percent harder to make up for our lost time.”

“Ahaha, but of course!” Ryusui booms, and a resounding cheer follows.

“Ryusui!” Suika cries. He opens his arms as she jumps into them and places a new hat atop his head. “Suika is so glad you’re safe!”

Ryusui sets her down. “I am indeed. Thanks to our fiercest warrior!”

Tsukasa grins at him once he’s released from Kohaku’s gorilla hug. 

“That was seriously risky!” Gen insists. Yuzuriha nods fervently beside him. “What are we going to do with you?”

“We need to put them in the brig for scaring us like that!” Ginro whines. Kinro gives him a disapproving glare.

“We had a bad time trying to find you!” Chrome tells them. “But Senku used your wind charts to follow the direction the storm had been traveling!”

Homura flips down from the searchlight. “Your signal was helpful,” she informs. Beside her, Hyoga gives them both a respectful nod.

“Tsuka-san!” Minami cries. She stops just short of throwing herself at him and instead settles for a pat on the head. Bruises in the shape of tear tracks mar her otherwise flawless face, and Ryusui would apologize for making a woman cry if he thought it was over him. “I’m so relieved you’re alive!”

“Heh, of course they’re alive,” Senku snickers. “They’re too stubborn to die.”

“Ryusui-sama has always been stubborn,” Francois says with an affectionate shake of their head. “Ryusui-sama. Tsukasa-sama. Welcome back.”

“Thank you for finding us,” Tsukasa says with a bow towards the crew. “We sincerely apologize for making you worry.”

“‘We?’” Gen repeats coyly. “You and Ryusui are a set now?”

Tsukasa coughs into his hand. “It’s a...shared sentiment.”

“I see,” Gen hums. Senku whispers something into his ear that makes him giggle, and Ryusui can’t decide whether or not he wants to know what it is.

“He’s correct! Our deepest regrets for your troubles,” Ryusui confirms. “But now that I’m certain of our location, I can plot a direct course to Corn City that will ensure our original time to the destination is preserved. Assuming you lot are all willing to work double as hard for it! Am I wrong?”

A mostly cheerful and determined reaction to that, with a few groans peppered in from Magma, Mantle, and Yo. Ryusui and Tsukasa exchange one more glance before Ryusui rushes off to the helm of the ship, ready to complete the last leg of their journey.

* * * {T-1} * * * 

The final few days of their 40-day trip to America fly by in a snap.

Ryusui hardly has a moment to himself; he’s drowning in work, now, instead of the water, to make up for the lost day and a half. Ryusui eventually convinces Senku to use the rest of their spare oil to increase the top speed of the ship. They race over the waters like a slingshot, releasing the last of their pent-up energy in anticipation of arrival.

He doesn't see much of Tsukasa. As leaders of their regiments, they’re both fully consumed by their respective domains. There’s a cold, achy emptiness in the left side of Ryusui’s chest, constantly reminding him that something warm is missing. 

It’s been a long, long journey for them. Ryusui can’t help but wonder if somewhere between the beginning of clashing and conflict to the calm, comfortable rhythm where they’ve settled, they accidentally swapped pieces of themselves in the confusion.

Ryusui finally finds a quiet moment for himself the evening before they reach their destination. He all but collapses against the aft guardrail on the upper deck, bathed in the liquid light dripping like dew from the full moon. The salty sea air tastes fresh, inflates his lungs with the aroma of life, and clears the clutter in his mind with the kind of clarity he can only find on the open ocean. 

He’s just about ready to let his heavy eyelids droop shut until he hears voices on the lower deck beneath him.

“He says it to everyone,” Tsukasa is saying, an almost defeated weight to his words, “which means that I am nothing special.”

Ryusui blinks, the distinct sensation of deja vu re-scrambling his thoughts. It’s just like the first time they met. Is he talking about me? Ryusui thinks, and then, oh, shit. Did he hear what I said to him on the beach when I thought he was asleep?

“That’s ten billion percent not true,” Senku insists. “Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you?”

In return, Tsukasa gives a melancholy laugh. “He looks at a lot of people like that.”

“No,” Senku says firmly. “He doesn’t.”

A short silence, condensed by the way the statement leaves no room for argument. “What are you trying to say, Senku?”

The trademark smirk is audible in Senku’s snicker, and instantly Ryusui knows he’s been caught in the act. “I’m trying to say that I think there’s someone here to see you.”

There’s a rustle of worn suede over faded wood as Tsukasa’s cape brushes the deck when he whirls around. Ryusui plants a firm hand against the upper railing and swings his legs over the ledge, landing a meter in front of Tsukasa with a dull thud. His cape flutters like swallow’s wings behind him.

The wave he musters is stumbling at best, downright pathetic at worst. “Yo, Tsukasa.”

“Ryusui,” Tsukasa says, and doesn’t continue after that.

“Well,” Senku says with a smug grin. “I’ll let you two chat.” Just before he disappears below deck, Ryusui hears him muse to himself, “Now this is exhilarating.”

Tsukasa releases a slow exhale once they’re alone. “Hm. I assume you’re looking forward to our arrival tomorrow.”

“You bet,” Ryusui says with a snap. “There’s a whole new land full of unknown treasures for us to explore. I want to acquire it all, as the greediest man in the world! If the Kingdom of Science sticks together, there’s nothing we can’t accomplish. Am I wrong?”

“No,” Tsukasa says fondly. “You’re not wrong.”

“Ahaha! I was hoping you’d say that,” he says, and his voice stutters at the end, because there’s no putting it off anymore. Ryusui has always been fearless, but right now, he’s terrified. “Listen--Tsukasa. I know things started out kinda rocky between us. Well--not kinda rocky. Really rocky, I guess. I’m actually pretty bad at first impressions, y’know? It’s seriously a big problem. But you’re great at them, because from the moment I saw you, I just--I knew. And ever since then, throughout all the time we’ve spent together, it only makes my feelings stronger. I’ve never been more sure about anything than I am about this. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to put it into words. But--I do now. Three words, specifically, even though I’ve said them to you before. Well, not that I didn’t mean it before, but I mean it differently now than I did back then, because, hey, did you know there’s a difference between love and being in--”

“Ryusui.”

“What?”

“May I kiss you?”

The world glitches. If a pin dropped on the opposite side of the universe, it would be deafening. “Huh?” Ryusui chokes. “I--I thought you said there was never anyone you wanted to kiss.”

“Before the petrification, there wasn’t,” Tsukasa murmurs. He takes a cautious step forward. “But now, there is.”

Ryusui tries to reply, but he searches and searches and can't find his own voice; he can't even find any breath in his lungs. Nothing he’s trying to put into words is living past the tip of his tongue, so he eventually scraps the idea on the grounds that actions speak louder, anyway.

He closes the distance between them, seizes a handful of fur on Tsukasa’s cloak, yanks the two of them together, and slams lips against Tsukasa’s own.

Tsukasa really never has kissed anyone before. It’s messy, rough, impatient, and inexperienced; their noses bump on the way in, and their teeth clack together. But all Ryusui’s own capability flies off the ship along with his ability to think, because he’s pretty sure he’s even sloppier, half-panting into Tsukasa’s mouth and smearing love all over his lips, but Tsukasa is swallowing every breath from his lungs. His hands pull on Tsukasa’s wild mane of hair. Tsukasa’s claws rake at the back of his neck. 

“Be with me,” Ryusui says breathlessly, when they finally pull away. “Please.”

Tsukasa offers him a wistful grin. “What could I possibly give the man who has everything?”

You’re what I want more than anything, Ryusui replies to himself, but he can think of an even better way to put it. “The chance to give everything to you.”

Then Tsukasa kisses him again. It’s slower this time, reverent, maybe a touch less desperate but not by much. Beside them, the water ripples, smooth and fluid like blue champagne, crystal-tipped waves sparkling with fallen stardust. The ship’s sails billow overhead in a triumphant salute.

In the distance, there is land. Overnight, it will expand from a dark sliver to a sprawling continent, filled with wonders they have yet to discover.

Ryusui leans his head against Tsukasa’s shoulder. “You ready, Lion King?”

“I am,” Tsukasa replies, lacing their hands together. “Prince Charming.”

And so they sail on, both eyes forward, as the sea carries them together towards their next adventure.