Chapter Text
Chapter 4 – Breaking Point Senku hadn’t meant to fall asleep on her, but exhaustion had pulled him under. His head rested near hers, his arm draped lightly over her side, careful not to press down too much, just close enough to feel the faint rise and fall of her chest. That closeness was what woke him—heat radiating off her like a furnace. She was burning up. Before he could move, Kohaku’s body jolted violently, a ragged cough tearing through her throat. Her whole frame convulsed beneath his arm, and he snapped upright, catching her as she lurched forward. Her skin was slick with sweat, her breaths shallow and broken. Then came the sound he dreaded most—wet, guttural, and red spilling across her lips. Blood. Senku’s chest tightened. The image of the mask back at the lake—its filter smeared with crimson—flashed through his mind like a curse. The syrup was gone—he had used every last drop. His hand pressed against her back, trying to steady her trembling body, but the fits only grew worse, vomiting blood and bile. Panic, sharp and suffocating, clawed at him. His mind, usually an unstoppable machine, stumbled over itself. “No… no, dammit, not like this!” His voice cracked as he eased her back, every movement trembling with fear. He tore away from her side only long enough to ravage the lab, scattering tools, knocking over vials, smashing glass without care. Drawers flew open, herbs and powders spilled across the floor. Every remedy he had, every half-finished concoction—useless. Nothing would work fast enough. Kohaku drifted in and out of awareness, heat boiling through her veins. Each breath scalded, each cough felt like her chest tearing apart. She saw him—wild, frantic, not the unshakable genius but someone breaking before her eyes—and wanted to call his name, to tell him she was still here. But her voice barely reached a whisper. “What can I do?!” His shout echoed off the stone walls, raw and frantic. He slammed both palms against the workbench, breathing hard, eyes snapping back to Kohaku. She lay trembling on the cot, sweat glistening on her pale skin, each cough threatening to take her last breath. The crash of his rage was still ringing when the door burst open. Françoise rushed in, Chrome stumbling behind her with wide eyes. She carried a steaming bowl that filled the room with the sharp scent of herbs and honey. “Here—an infusion, something to ease her breathing!” Françoise’s tone was clipped but urgent. “It won’t cure her, but it can buy time until we find more.” Senku’s hands shook as he took the bowl, fury and fear colliding in his chest. “Not good enough,” he rasped, though he guided the mixture to Kohaku’s lips anyway, coaxing her to drink. “We need more than this—we need a cure.” Senku had faced the void of the stone world, hunger, predators, even humanity’s extinction. But this—waking with her life slipping from his arms—this left him powerless. And powerless was something Senku Ishigami did not know how to be.