Chapter Text
Senku was pacing back and forth, eyes fixed on a small table full of test tubes, flasks, and strange-colored liquids that, frankly, he wasn’t even sure would be useful. It was important to maintain the appearance of an experiment.
— Senku! — Chrome appeared, his face bright, barely holding back his excitement as he saw the mess the scientist was tinkering with. — What're you working on? Can I help?
A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Senku's neck. He couldn't let Chrome know what he was really doing. In truth, not even he was sure, but he knew it involved... well, a purely scientific experiment on human chemistry. Nothing serious, of course.
— Ah, Chrome, this is a highly advanced experiment, — he replied, gesturing as if giving a lecture. — You wouldn't understand. It's about... extremely rare compounds. I need to do this alone.
— Extremely rare compounds? — Chrome raised an eyebrow. — Looks like plain water and common minerals to me.
Senku let out a short scoff and continued to improvise. — Exactly what a scientist-in-training would say. No time to explain. I need total isolation. Besides, it's an experiment that could... er... release dangerous gases.
Chrome took a step back, confused and a little scared. — Ah, gotcha. If it's that dangerous, I'll stay out of it. Good luck with that!
As soon as Chrome left, Senku let out a sigh, and his gaze fell on the "experiment" he'd been setting up. There were papers with detailed diagrams of brain cells, chemical reactions, and neurotransmitter diagrams spread out everywhere, all to study... love? No, he corrected himself mentally, it wasn't love. It was neuroscientific interest, pure and simple.
Ever since Tsukasa had joined the Kingdom of Science, Gen seemed... distant. Sure, he was around, helping and manipulating others with that usual smile of his, but Senku noticed... Gen smiled more when Tsukasa was nearby. And this small, almost insignificant fact, made Senku feel something... peculiar. Strange, so to speak.
He picked up one of the flasks and looked at it as if it were something magical.
— Time for an empirical test. If this really is... if this really means something, then the best way to solve it is with science.
Senku began to assemble his "test plan" just as he would for any serious experiment. First, he needed to observe. He would invite Gen to help him mix "substances" (in reality, just water and a bit of baking soda). If he got nervous around Gen, that was a sign. If not, case closed.
He went to find Gen, who was leaning against a tree with an intriguing smile.
— Gen, I need an assistant for an experiment I'm running.
— An experiment that you, the great scientist, aren't doing with Chrome? Now that is a rare event, — Gen replied, standing up with a glint in his eye.
Senku shrugged.
— He's... busy. And I need an experienced helper.
They returned to the lab together. There, Senku began mixing the ingredients, trying to control his own unease. Gen was too close, and his smile, always so enigmatic, seemed to unsettle Senku lately. Every one of Gen's movements caused a slight—but persistent—acceleration in Senku's heart rate.
— Is this... water? — Gen looked at the flask with curiosity.
Senku coughed, improvising.
— Water is just one of the components, yes.
— Interesting. — Gen held his gaze for a second longer than necessary, and Senku quickly looked away.
This "experiment" was already failing miserably.
— So, — Gen began, his tone casual, but sensing something was off. — What is this experiment of yours about, exactly?
Senku froze.
— Why the hell do you want to know?
Gen gave a low laugh. — Ah, are you doing something secret you can't tell me about?
Senku cleared his throat, regaining what was left of his scientific composure. He needed to think fast—he couldn't let Gen suspect there was something strange about his tests on... on neural chemistry, yes, that's what he was doing.
He lifted his chin, putting on his serious scientist expression.
— Well, I'm studying the effects of human proximity on neural processing. Basically, I want to understand how the... presence of someone can alter a scientist's perception while conducting chemical experiments. For scientific purposes, of course.
Gen found that odd and... curious.
— Oh... And so far, what would you say the results are? Reached any conclusions? — Gen smiled, showing an eagerness for the answer.
Senku shrugged.
— Nothing abnormal, I'd say. I'm just a little uncertain because I'm used to doing these experiments alongside Chrome, — the scientist replied.
Gen stopped smiling. But then he chuckled quietly.
— Right, great scientist. I'll just stay over here, then, just observing so I don't get in your way.
Senku tried to concentrate on what he was doing, but Gen's proximity was an unbearable distraction. He could feel Gen's gaze on him, that carefree smile, as if he were just amusing himself.
— Well, Senku, I don't think I'm being much help... — Gen said suddenly, fixing his hair with a casual touch. — So I'm gonna take off. Tsukasa is training with the warriors and, well, I'm going to go check it out.
Senku stopped, his expression hardening for a brief second before he could hide it. Tsukasa. Of course it was Tsukasa. Gen was always around when he was around. There was a sparkle in Gen's eyes that only appeared when he mentioned the guy. That was... ridiculous.
— Right, go on, — Senku said with exaggerated calm. — I don't need any more help. This experiment is concluded.
Gen gave a half-smile, slightly shaky. — Always straight to the point, huh? Well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me.
He gave a slight nod and left the lab, leaving Senku alone with a bubbling concoction and an uncomfortable emptiness. As soon as Gen was out of sight, Senku slammed the test tube down, frustrated.
— What the hell was that? — he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair as he tried to push away the image of Gen watching Tsukasa train. That... that just made no sense.
He looked at the flask on the table, but this time, the experiment offered no comfort. Even as he tried to rationalize the situation, a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered that there was no scientific explanation for what he was feeling. But still, he was feeling it.
He was sure of one thing: there were 10 billion chances that something was very, very wrong with him.