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When Senkuu opens his eyes once more it is almost sunset, though he only finds that out later. All he knows in this moment is that it has been five years, that grey-blue eyes are meeting his, and that his mentalist is crying. For some reason, he never thought that it would be Gen waiting for him all alone in the wilderness. The palms cupping his cheeks are callused and dirt-stained; the mentalist always had the smoothest hands of them all.
Senkuu had found him hidden away more than once on some riverbank, gently rubbing his hands with whatever reserves of soap he’d squirreled away when no one was watching. The most honest he’d ever seen the man was the April Fool’s Day that Senkuu slipped him a small container of lotion. Gen had smiled normally at first— his usual shallow curve— but once he opened the wooden box, once his eyes started reddening and his lips quivered, he tilted his head and beamed.
He was beaming now, as Senkuu’s failures and miscalculations made themselves known through the roughness pressed to his face, through the untidy ponytail trailing the mentalist’s shoulder.
“Senkuu- Senkuu-chan.” The man all but sobbed, collapsing against Senkuu as the rest of the stone encasing him crumbled away.
“Woah there, Mentalist.” But how cruel would it be to stifle the fondness leaking from his voice as he replied? Senkuu should have known, that much is clear. Should have known that there was a ten billion percent chance Gen wouldn’t have left Suika to awaken all alone in an unfamiliar world. Yes, Senkuu should have known that and planned accordingly. He should’ve ordered Gen to take on the role of revivee so that, at the very least, Gen would have someone other than himself to blame for being alone all these years.
But he didn’t. And now Gen is crying in his arms, so what else can Senkuu do but hold him?
“C’mon Gen,” he murmurs into his mentalist’s hair, “let it all out. Took you this long, nobody’s gonna stop you.” And Gen does. He shakes, and sniffles, and claws at Senkuu’s back until the damned sun throws pastel pinks and fiery oranges across their entwined figures and Gen pulls away just enough to avert his eyes. He doesn’t move very far at all though, so Senkuu doesn’t feel too bad about leaning further into his grounding touch.
“Senkuu-chan…” Gen sniffles. His eyes are puffy and his nose is pink, but his gaze crinkles into something unbearably fond— sad, but fond. “You’re eally-ray here, aren’t you, Senkuu-chan?” Some small piece of Senkuu’s heart dies at that question. Just what had Gen experienced all alone out here? How long has he been awake for? All the scientist can do is hold Gen tighter, fingers squeezing bunches of faded lavender fabric to feel the jutting bones beneath.
“I’m here, Gen. I’m ten billion percent real.” More tears slip down Gen’s cheeks, soaking the worn neck of his undershirt. Relief mixed with a darker emotion ripples across the man’s face. Senkuu can only watch, transfixed by each movement Gen makes. It was almost worse this time, not knowing whether or not something had gone wrong, not knowing if any of the people he’d grown to care about would survive. But he’s awake now. He’s awake, and Gen is holding him, and Gen is looking at him with those happy-sad eyes, and- oh.
The mentalist pulls back a few inches more, hastily unwinding one of his arms from Senkuu’s body and coughing into it. When their gazes finally meet again, all of Senkuu’s worst fears are confirmed.
Gen has always been rather pale— even working out in the sun all day long back in Ishigami Village had barely put any color on him! But now his skin seems almost grey as the light hits it; his cheeks hollowed and his eyes sunken. He is still shaking.
“You’re actually here, Senkuu-chan…” when the other man says it this time, it feels a bit like someone on their deathbed seeing their final wish come true at last.
“Gen-” Senkuu starts, only to be cut off with a simple shake of the head.
“It’s been over a year since it started, my dear Senkuu. I was beginning to think that I may not be able to itness-way your great revival.” Stop. Don’t look at me like that— like you might not see me again. Deep inside, Senkuu knows that there is very little either of them can do. He said it himself when he revived Tsukasa the first time around: a simple cold could kill them in this medicine-less world. Gen had had his for over a year; a little bit of soap wasn’t going to magically cure him now.
That didn’t stop Senkuu from spending the next several days alternating between caring for Gen (who had been forced into bed rest), setting up a more efficient revival fluid production system, and praising Gen for the things he’d managed to accomplish all by himself. Slowly but surely, the rest of the Kingdom of Science depetrified, starting with Francois and Chrome, and ending with Yo and Hyoga.
Eventually, even Xeno was splashed with the nital at Gen’s insistence. He claimed that it was so Senkuu could get a head start on planning the rocket, but the utter despair that lined his mentor’s expression when the mentalist’s condition was revealed hinted at something different. If Senkuu had to guess, Gen was perhaps one of the few people Xeno truly did not want gone. Even with the combined efforts of three scientists, Luna’s medical knowledge, and Francois’ sleepless determination, they simply did not have the resources or technology to combat the illness that Gen had contracted.
No one had the heart to tell Senkuu off for sleeping on the floor next to Gen’s bed, not even Xeno. The mentalist woke up screaming often enough that there needed to be another person there with him to calm him down anyway, and it was just efficient if his main doctor was also that person. (Senkuu saw Xeno watching them sometimes, when no one else was paying any attention. The doctor always had a distant look in his eyes, like he was seeing some memory playing over the two of them. Then he’d glance back at the cave where Stanley’s statue waited and the moment would be over).
Gradually, the time that Gen spent in bed became more than what he spent outside of his hut. Chrome could hardly meet his eyes anymore; the helpless tears Ruri spent suffering before Senkuu’s arrival still too fresh a wound for pretend normalcy to paper over. Even Kohaku and Tsukasa grew restless, their anxiety translating into higher and higher piles of animal carcasses ready to be cooked for his meals. There was an unspoken rule within the community that no one was to begin eating before Gen.
The Perseus survived the journey back to America with Ryusui at the helm, but the radio broadcast that came a few weeks later crushed whatever hope still remained: their last working Medusa was completely drained. It didn’t have enough energy to petrify Gen even if they could get the device to him. His occasional coughing had long evolved into prolonged bouts of hacking that made poor Suika flinch no matter how many times she heard it.
By the time the Kingdom was settled enough to start on a sulfa drug, they were already running out of time to produce it. Senkuu spend most of his time at Gen’s side, and the other 5% with Xeno and Chrome ruling out illnesses and brainstorming treatment options. He knew that Gen would agree to whatever testing Senkuu suggested, and somehow, it made it that much more difficult to try anything. If Senkuu had developed a singular weakness, it was seeing Gen in pain. Not even Xeno would be cruel enough to use that against him.
When Gen started pushing for Stanley’s revival, Senkuu knew that what little time they had managed to squeeze out was almost up. Everyone caved to the mentalist’s will with little resistance, and, with a bit of revival fluid and a brief intermission for Xeno to retrieve a box of cigarettes, the sniper broke free of the stone once more. His cat-like grace long deteriorated, Gen tottered his way to Xeno’s side wearing a soft smile. Stanley only had to look at him for a handful of seconds before sweeping him into a tight hug, Xeno’s hand carding through bi-colored hair.
“…I don’t want to die, Senkuu-chan.” Gen whispered when Stanley eventually released him back into Senkuu’s waiting arms. It was all the scientist could do to press his forehead to his should and murmur back:
“I’m sorry.” Hating the way his voice broke on each word.
A week after Stanley’s revival, Senkuu brought up chronic bronchitis to Xeno. The other man let his eyes close with a quiet sigh before shaking his head.
“The boy doesn’t need a name to greet death by, Doctor Ishigami. Do not waste the time you have left chasing a name for what ails him, when the only choice that remains for him to make is the order of his parting words.”
Gen smiled softly when Senkuu pushed the curtain aside to let himself back into their hut. The mentalist’s hair had taken on an oily sheen since he hadn’t found the strength to leave his bed for the past few days. Senkuu carded his fingers through the messy locks, untangling the snarls that had formed with all the gentleness he could physically manifest. He was rewarded with a quiet hum of contentment from the mentalist below him. The slept together on the bed from that night onwards, and not a single person dared to comment on it.
Like birds sensing the pull of migration come autumn, everyone in camp found their way to Gen’s bedside to say and receive their official goodbyes. Gen turned his head slightly to look at Senkuu where he stood in the far corner of their hut, watching. The ring of flowers Suika placed oh-so-carefully on the mentalist’s head now slipped over his glassy eye.
“Don’t let her come back, Senkuu-chan.” Gen’s body never really stopped trembling anymore. Senkuu could only nod; he didn’t quite trust himself to speak. “Suika-chan… Suika-chan doesn’t need to see this.” He gestured weakly at his flushed face with its gaunt cheeks and eye bags purple enough to rival a chronic insomniac’s before meeting Senkuu’s steady gaze once more. A rueful smile stretched itself across his chapped lips. “You too. You’re the ast-lay person I want seeing the great Asagiri Gen in this state.” Fair or not, Senkuu’s heart still thudded in his chest.
“Mentalist-” he tried. Gen had already settled back down on his pillows, his expression the same as it had been that night in the observatory so many years ago now.
“Let it be. Let me have this. Just this.”
The fever he woke up with the next morning made Xeno’s face blanch and Chrome’s eyes water. Senkuu took an indefinite break from what little work he’d still been doing in the lab to treat Gen full time, leaving Kohaku in charge of delivering the most nutrient-filled meals they had access to. Stanley visited after dark every single night in hopes of talking the mentalist to sleep; Gen would hold his hand and gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, and nobody would ask about his biological parents.
It make him delirious when the fever got too high and they couldn’t bring the temperature back down. Gen spent hours shouting himself hoarse— begging, pleading— not to be left alone. He would fight sometimes, when Senkuu wouldn’t let him out of bed. The mentalist would sob and repeat almost hysterically that he needed to save Senkuu-chan. He needed to save Senkuu-chan before he-
Senkuu woke up around midnight to complete silence and a cold hand in his.
They couldn’t bring themselves to bury him in foreign soil, so Taiju held Senkuu down long enough for Francois to start working on methods of temporary preservation for the body while Ryusui returned with the cold sleep chamber.
Asagiri Gen was laid to rest beneath the observatory weeks later, a wreath of black nightshades resting atop his headstone in lieu of a name.
-
Senkuu doesn’t understand why everyone keeps glancing at him with pity practically dripping from their eyes. They’ve already made it to India and picked up their mathematics genius courtesy of Ryusui. That dramatic bastard had the gall to look genuinely upset when Sai tried to run away from him, closing the distance between them without hesitation and wrapping his brother in a hug.
“I’m sorry you had to wait for so long. I’m so happy you’re alive, brother.” And what kind of asshole would you have to be to pull away when someone says that to you? So the younger Nanami was trapped in Ryusui’s embrace for several more minutes.
“Oi! Mentalist!” Senkuu calls into the cafeteria. He sees a flash of purple in his periphery and turns around, not bothering to wait for the other man. He’ll catch up. He always does.
Sure enough, a giggle floats up from behind him.
“I think we should revive someone who can break curses next time, Senkuu-chan. Your bad luck is getting really concerning.” The mentalist teases. Senkuu snorts.
“We don’t need another charlatan— we already have a quack magician.” They pass Chrome heading to breakfast as they make their way to the lab, the other man shooting them a look of half concern, half remorse. Senkuu just shakes his head. Another one? Really?
“Rude-” Chrome’s footsteps fade into the distance, leaving only the sound of Senkuu’s shoes hitting the floor. He can see Xeno hunched over some samples through the narrow window on the door to the lab. His breaths are coming quicker now. Normally his mentalist would be reprimanding him for getting so worked up over nothing.
“…you’re not really here, are you.” He stops walking, turns back halfway before Gen has time to respond. Not even the scent of lavender lingers in the empty air. “I wish you were.” Is all he mumbled before facing the front once more and pushing the lab door open. Xeno doesn’t look up as he greets him.
“Doctor Senkuu,” the younger scientist grunts in response, making his way over to Xeno’s table and leaning over it just far enough to glance at the mess of blueprints spread across its surface.
“How’s the rocket fuel coming?” He asks.
“Are you still hallucinating, Senkuu?” Xeno questions in return.
Neither of them speak for a good five minutes; Xeno writing every little reaction of the tubes in his leather notebook and Senkuu staring at the wall behind his mentor’s ridiculous hair. The sound of Gen’s laughter still echoes in his mind.
“Yeah.”
“Terribly. Go work on making a sedative.”
Senkuu blinks, opening his mouth to speak.
“Stan has been suffering horrid nightmares, and I can’t imagine you’ve been spared them either. You can get proper rest, or kiss your space-faring dreams a tearful goodbye.” And with that, there is nothing left to say.
Senkuu’s mind is already racing ahead as he prepares the ingredients for a trial batch of sleeping powder, focused not on the materials in his hands but on the project that would come after the rocket, after the moon. The project that would bring back everyone he had lost. The project that would bring back Gen.
“How long do you think a functioning time machine will take?” He throws the question out into the silence, not really expecting a response. Xeno replies precisely ten minutes later.
“Between the both of us? Not long at all.”
Senkuu almost smiles.