Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Step 5: Reaching a Conclusion. The final step in the scientific process is accumulating the results of observation, experimentation, and further analysis. When doing so, the researcher should return to the initial research question. With the knowledge gained during the process, an answer should now be in reach.

------

On the morning of January 5, 5740, Senkuu woke up for the first time to a painful cough and black nightshade petals.

He had one conscious thought and that was what he chose to focus on.

But before his conscious mind came into play, he had four unconscious reactions, too.

The first was confusion.

The second was denial.

The third was fear.

But, the last emotion bled so closely to the first thought that it was almost indistinguishable.

The fourth was determination.

When boiled down to the bare essentials, fear was only helpful for fleeting moments--used to identify risks then better pushed aside before it jeopardized higher thought process. Practically if not luckily, Senkuu had plenty of experience firmly categorizing his emotions so he could focus on the bigger picture.

And the bigger picture was this. First and foremost, Hanahaki was a disease.

A strange disease, sure, and one that had stumped doctors even in his own time; but, all diseases were biological phenomena and, as such, came with set laws of nature they were ordered to follow.

A disease was always set on the same guiding principles, no matter if it was the common cold or plants rooting in the digestive tract.

Susceptibility. Infection spread. Biological triggers. Symptomatology.

Anything that followed the rules of nature could also be solved by science.

That was how the entire world functioned, be it fantasy or fairy tale.

Fuck, compared to the entire human population trapped in stone, this disease was comparatively simple.

Three millennia prior, scientists were barely beginning to scratch the surface of this illness and now Senkuu had an entirely viable test subject ready to work from the very first observed symptom.

He’d need Gen, of course, to test it fully but that was fine. Senkuu had worked sparingly with research partners before and at least Gen he already knew how to collaborate with. 

Besides, with most of the world in what amounted fundamentally to a stasis state, they could even cure it before it ever got the chance to spread.

Senkuu almost wanted to laugh. A true medical miracle--only possible from an unprecedented global disaster and achieved with stone age technology.

This…

As Senkuu’s mind finally moved from unconscious reaction to conscious thought, he held a handful of nightshade petals gently in his hands and made a choice of exactly how he was going to handle this.

He grinned.

This is going to be exhilarating.

-------

Gen’s footsteps crunched lightly on frozen dew--early morning in the village with no one else awake. 

There was less snow than there had been yesterday and even less than the day before--the marks of winter slowly fading away.

What there was instead was the world balanced on the edge, right between safety and freefall and Gen….had absolutely no control over which way it would tip over.

It was freeing as much as terrifying. But, here was the simple truth….

Gen’s role was done. 

Everything he could do was already in motion, had already been in motion. 

He’d attempted talking Senkuu out of love and that had failed--in a fairly definite way at that. 

He’d tried and tried again to weave a better lie where Senkuu believed Gen felt the same and that had failed as well. Was apparently always doomed to fail because of Senkuu’s annoyingly accurate foresight paired with too much faith in Gen’s better nature. 

Because Senkuu believed Gen’s lies were kind.

To be honest, Gen still wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that belief. It was a mercurial kind of feeling--a warmth that should have sat comfortably in his chest if it didn’t twist at the thought of the implications. Gen had spent so long believing his ruthlessness and lies as his biggest barrier in fooling Senkuu so, yes, of course, Senkuu--ever the contrarian--would prove him right for all the wrong reasons.

To be loved for his lies? Loved to death, quite possibly.

Gen rolled his eyes and stored those thoughts carefully away. Hanahaki truly was the disease for cold comforts.

Anyway. Practicalities and facts--it was easier to think in logic rather than feelings currently which, ugh , the irony really should be killing him. But, fine, truths it was, then, since he had no more lies left.

There was nothing left for Gen to do. No tricks waiting to be pulled, no Ace of Hearts hidden up his sleeve, no thread he could pull and stitch together a happy ending.

 It wasn’t Gen who would cure the disease. It never had been, not really.

In the end, Gen should have always known it would come down to Senkuu instead. He’d always been better at impossible things.

Truth .

-------

Gen didn’t particularly like going to the lab this early, not enough to be the first one there. 

He found there was something lonely about seeing stillness in a place so usually full of motion. Kenopsia almost, although Gen was pretty sure that only applied for truly crowded places; then again, Senkuu always did fill a room.

Point being: Gen didn’t prefer coming here this early but he was going to go stir crazy sitting around with his own thoughts; so, even if he couldn’t help, he’d at least rather be here not-helping than any of the alternatives.

He would just hold out for the rest to wake up.

Gen pushed the curtain to the lab back. He’d have to wait until--

Oh for fuck’s sake!

Senkuu was already there and looked to have been for sometime judging from the way he was moving quickly between different beakers laid out on the table, at least two chemicals boiling over heated coils, multiple powders ground up in some unidentifiable order, and one ceramic pot of liquid Gen couldn’t even begin to guess at but smelled horrific.

Gen put his hands on his hips. “Did you get any sleep?!”

Senkuu jumped, hand tightening abruptly as he almost dropped the beaker in surprise--which was somewhat concerning, considering Senkuu was normally overly aware of anything and everything happening around him.

Then, Senkuu’s eyes landed on Gen and…

Gen didn’t have other words to describe it, they caught in his ribs.

Senkuu grinned, eyes brighter and happy, and the entire space seemed to light up in tune.

“Hey, mentalist.” Then, Senkuu paused, words processing before he snorted--effectively ending the moment. “And like you’re the one who gets to complain about bad sleep habits. Listen--”

“Well, I’m not the one with a life threatening illness,” Gen argued right back, regaining his balance in the aftermath of whatever that was. “Honestly, Senkuu-chan, I can’t imagine all-nighters are medically beneficial whatever the disease. Have you even eaten anything?”

“Couldn’t yet.” Senkuu shook his head, expression still bright. “Didn’t realize I gained a nurse.”

“Oh, don’t even .” Gen rolled his eyes, poking at the ceramic pot. “What is this, by the way? It smells disgusting.”

“Stomach fluid. Anyway--”

Gen immediately withdrew his hand. “Which you got how ?”

“A modified paracentesis procedure that--,” Senkuu cut off, hand waving impatiently. “Actually, do you really want to know? It’s kind of gross and not really the most important thing right now.”

Gen thought, seriously considered, the stupendous amount of casually disturbing things Senkuu usually explained in detail and what exactly had to warrant Senkuu’s determination of “kind of gross”.  

“No,” Gen decided wisely. “I actually don’t. So….stomach fluid. Fun. Didn't you already have that?”

“Only what came through the esophagus--no way to know if that was all that was there or just what was being rejected by the body. Plus the flowers mixed in didn’t help with analysis. This ,” he walked over to flick the pot lightly, “is what I needed to do a full chemical makeup.”

“Yay?” Gen ventured. “That’s good, I’m assuming.”

“Yeah.” Senkuu’s smile was back. “ Very good.”

There was an undercurrent to Senkuu’s tone. It sounded amused, buzzing lightly and eager like he was waiting on Gen to catch it.

Gen stopped, pulse picking up as a thought started tugging…

“How very good,” Gen asked, not too loud as if the idea might break.

And Senkuu’s smile grew. “I know how Hanahaki works.”

The quiet that followed echoed. It likely only lasted a second, maybe even a fraction of that, but Gen felt it like a physical force. Everything around them suddenly sharpened into tight focus, almost too vivid, the air gaining physical weight.

“Oh?”

Senkuu continued. “Yeah. Symptomatology, susceptibility, and treatment.” He ticked them off,  leaning back on the lab table behind him. “That’s what we needed: how it works and what effects it has physically. And what I found was this.”

He held up a vial of crushed petals. “It’s not the flowers that kill the host, it’s everything else.”

Gen stared, thoughts coming slow and dulled. 

“....is that...was that a metaphor,” he managed to ask, voice unsteady. “Because, really, Senkuu-chan, now might not be the best time to discover your hidden poet.”

“It’s literal.” Senkuu rolled his eyes. “Other than irritating the esophagus, the flowers do legitimately jackshit.”

“What?”

“I know,” Senkuu agreed. “They’re a medical red herring. All this time we’ve been focusing on them because they’re the most obvious--and, realistically, the weirdest- -symptom; but, as far as the disease goes, they’re basically harmless.” He set the vial down and picked up the notes. “The flowers aren’t what’s deadly; what’s toxic is the chemical changes in the stomach that let them grow.”

Senkuu’s hand went to the back of his neck, stretching it out, most likely from spending an entire night bent over a lab table. 

“Here’s what’s bad. The stomach fluid I got showed way too low levels of acid. That’s bad enough on it’s own for digestion; but, worse since it also had too high levels of phosphorus, potassium, and nitrogen. They’re the same chemicals used to stimulate plant growth in certain soils.”

“Then, how did they get in your body ,” Gen asked.

“They were already there.” Senkuu shrugged. “They’re all naturally occurring, just at low levels. My guess is that the high concentrate levels plus more minerals with the lower breakdown let the plants grow.” He tapped his notes. “Nothing major--even in those conditions, nothing could ever get big enough to be more than an irritant; but, it’s apparently enough to grow something.”

Senkuu looked up. “Like I said, technically, I’m not dying from the flowers. They’re symptoms. The real harm comes from the slow change of the stomach condition resulting in a prolonged combination of hyperkalemia, uremia, and hyperphosphatemia paired with slower digestive function.”

Gen wasn’t even going to pretend he knew what half of those words meant. “What about…”

He didn’t even know which part he meant to ask about. Maybe everything. He felt uncentered--stopped while the world was still turning under him--and the science that Senkuu threw out like breathing was what he could hold onto, a familiar melody that kept him balanced.

“Susceptibility?” Senkuu guessed. 

Gen shrugged jerkily. “Sure. Yes.”

Senkuu blew out a breath. “I can’t say definitely ; but, I have a theory. Based on the medical observations before the petrification--why some people develop it while others never do, even under similar conditions--I think Hanahaki starts less strictly as a disease and more a genetic predisposition. That would at least explain how it came from folklore and why the medical community only started to record it later. If it started as some town’s local genetic quirk, it would only disperse wider once the population spread and intermarried.” He tilted his head. “Though, considering population density with the disease’s genetic survival, I suppose the alleles would have to be--”

“Senkuu,” Gen interrupted before he heard a theorized evolutionary timeline rather than what he truly needed to hear.

“Anyway,” Senkuu moved on. “I can’t confirm this part either since that would mean testing brain chemicals; but, in medical terms, my guess is it happens like this. For those disposed to develop Hanahaki, when the brain starts exhibiting high levels of certain chemical cues--dopamine, norepinephrine, serotonin, vasopressin, oxytocin--who knows which in particular, the point is--”

“Love,” Gen interrupted. He breathed. “Right?”

Senkuu nodded. “At least as a chemical equation. All of which, from a biological perspective, read as favorable.” He paused, tapping his finger against the notes. “It’s strange, I never really thought about it. But, from the body’s standpoint, ‘heartbreak’ has gotta read as weird as shit. High levels of cortisol, adrenaline. It produces some of the same stress hormones associated with injury or immediate danger; but, there isn’t any physical problem to fix.”

He flicked a dry smile over at Gen. “It’s all in your head.”

“An interesting place,” Gen agreed and felt steadier with the words.

“Yeah,” Senkuu turned back to the notes. “Stress combined with all the other ‘good’ hormones, it would probably look like a malfunction. Happiness and pain without any physical stimulus.” He shrugged. “It’s only speculation; but, I think Hanahaki likely developed as the body’s attempt to readjust the chemical balance, get it back to normal.” He gestured at the stomach acid. “The problem is it fucked up and chose the wrong chemicals to stimulate. That’s what makes it a disease.”

“It tries to fix it but makes it worse,” Gen said. “All to solve a problem that doesn’t exist.”

Senkuu snorted. “To solve a problem that isn’t physical. Come on, mentalist , you’re the one who keeps telling me about the power of perception.”

Gen gave a faint grimace even as he accepted the point. “My understanding of mind over matter usually has a less direct mortality rate.” He tilted his head. “What about the surgery, then? That used to be a treatment, right? Why would removing the plant help anything if it’s primarily a chemical imbalance?”

“That’s a question I had.” Senkuu agreed. “One of the most irritating things is that I don’t have past patients to observe. My guess? Remember how I said the brain monitored the feedback, too? Well, surgery’s rough--a physical injury that needs to heal and a shock to the entire system.” He paused. “Maybe enough of a shock for the brain to adapt responses. If the physical injury means the stress hormones are supposed to be there….” His gaze flicked up, looking at Gen. “What do you think it would feel like if the brain suddenly lowered production of oxytocin and dopamine?”

Gen considered. He closed his eyes and truly mulled the question over, giving it his full focus so that he wouldn’t have to think about the faint tremor in his hands.

Oxytocin and dopamine--the two chemicals most highly associated with the brain’s reward system, with attachment, with happiness. To have neither?

“I think….,” Gen said softly, opening his eyes, “that it would be….cold. I think it would feel very lonely.”

Senkuu nodded. “Almost like never feeling love.”

“Is that really possible?”

Senkuu chewed on his lip. “Your guess is as good as mine. The petrification temporarily shut down some of my emotional responses, so anything’s possible. Who knows? Maybe long term, it would even be treatable--just like certain psychological disorders. Our old scientists never found enough to ask.”

“Ah.”

Gen braced himself as he made sure every single reaction he could have was compressed tightly above his lungs like a stone he had to swallow around to form the words. 

“Not that this isn’t fascinating; but, with what you found….with this….does that mean….that you….”

He still couldn’t finish. It stuck against his throat, too heavy to get out.

Senkuu spoke before he could try again.

“Yeah, I think I know how to cure it.”

And, at once, it felt like the world had shifted back on its axis. Everything around them shifted by millimetres, different to how it had been before but right in a way it hadn’t been since Gen was pulled into a lab months ago to hear a secret.

The hold that Gen had wavered and he had to close his eyes, unable to help it as the light filtering in from the snow suddenly seemed blinding. 

“How,” Gen heard himself ask.

Senkuu’s voice glided over, straightforward and there. “No surgery required.” A snort. “Of course, the treatments to get everything back to normal is going to fucking suck. I’ve gotta make one compound that raises the acid level in the stomach so I can kill the plant and flush out the system; then, another one to hopefully bring it back to normal. It’s going to feel like shit. And this far along in the disease, it’s going to take days . Still better than dying, of course.”

“Because you’re not,” Gen opened his eyes. “Because you’re not dying, right?”

“No,” Senkuu promised . “I’m not. Guess you gotta deal with me a bit longer, mentalist.”

Senkuu smiled and Gen….there was so much he wanted to say, too much that it threatened to overwhelm him if he let it and there wasn’t time for that, not yet.

Gen pressed the words back instead with all the other reactions.

“But, I’m also going to be bed-ridden for the next few days,” Senkuu continued, purposefully aiming for casualness. “I’ll tell the villagers it’s a stomach thing--which is the truth actually. Chrome and Kohaku can take point in war preparations; but, watch out for the rest of the village for me, okay?”

And, suddenly, Gen wanted to laugh. Or sob. Maybe both. He wasn’t sure yet. 

Instead, he just nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, Senkuu-chan, I think I can manage that.”

That role at least he was sure about.

-------

There were three parts to every magic trick.

Part 1: The Audience

“Good,” Gen praised, hands moving smoothly around the next motions, “now wrap it under and over again. This way, do you see?”

The children focused intently, all sitting quietly in a circle with their little hands threading winter weeds together into flower crowns. Suika flitted around them, his constant helper, patiently correcting movements as she went.

Gen left her to it, pushing to his feet and watching the rest of the village, so much quieter than they normally were.

The first part of a magic trick was the audience. They watched, waiting with eyes wide. They didn’t know how the trick was supposed to work, not really. Innocent to the work behind it and obliged to be pulled in by hidden strings. They didn’t need to know the technicalities to be caught in the results. Shouldn’t know. The mystery was part of the illusion, after all.

The entire village laid in suspense, not that they realized the full extent.

For the most part, they seemed to accept Senkuu’s excuse of a mild stomach bug just fine, letting him cordon himself off in the infirmary hut to the side of he village. But, accepting it was not the same as saying they didn’t worry--especially when one day turned to two turned to three.

A village that, until a few months ago, had their biggest dangers come from the environment and illness? Ailments that must have seemed largely mysterious and unpreventable without the scientific reasoning behind them? No, no matter what kind of logic based explanations Senkuu gave as reassurance Gen knew the village would always be afraid.

Senkuu had never done well with other people’s worry. It was a variable too hard to account for, especially when it cut too deeply to his own.

Ishigami Village orbited around Senkuu.

Gen knew it. Senkuu knew it, too--feared it, in as much a way as Senkuu feared anything. But, it was still a fact for now, one where the burden may hopefully one day be light enough to bear but the history of its soul would never change.

So, yes, the village waited.

Part 2: The Backstage.

Gen headed to where Carbo leaned against the hut, keeping an eye out on the children’s lesson. Gen threw his own newly made flower crown, smirking when it landed crookedly on the taller man’s head.

Carbo merely rolled his eyes, too used to Gen by now to even bother getting riled up--a real pity for Gen, actually.

“I thought you wanted me to work with them on their writing today,” Carbo commented. “Half of them are still getting the ‘fire’ and ‘water’ symbols mixed up.”

“Ah, well, the four strokes can be tricky,” Gen said before shrugging. “....I just thought they could use a bit of a break today.”

Carbo straightened, eyes flicking to a hut at the edge of the village.

Gen pretended he didn’t notice.

The second part of a magic trick was subtle, taking place away from prying eyes. The role of the assistant, the stagehand. The one whose job was to manage the shadows, make sure everything in the background was tuned so perfectly that it became unnoticeable. They knew how the trick worked. Or rather--they knew how it was supposed to work.

Gen smiled.  “Only for today, though. Tomorrow, I’m sure our oh so industrious leader will have much more exciting things than flower crowns to keep us busy.” 

“Right.” Carbo cleared his throat. “So….tomorrow, then? You really think it’ll be that soon?”

“Oh, without a doubt.” Gen rolled his eyes. “It’s Senkuu . Trust me, he’ll be back working us to the bone in no time. When have you ever seen him take anything slow?”

Carbo’s shoulders relaxed, letting out a small laugh. “Got that right. Better enjoy the break while we can.”

Gen winked. “Exactly my plan.”

And, then, Gen continued away, a smile still painted precisely on his face with a sharp eye out to the rest of the village.

A secret. For magic shows--for everything --there’s a single second between the trick’s beginning and completion, where no one knew what would happen. Either the trick would work perfectly, clicking together in just the exact way to appear seamless. Or it wouldn’t.

Part 3: The Stage.

Every trick eventually rested on the shoulders of the magician. Either it would work or fall apart, depending on the man who stood on the stage.

Three parts. The village watched like the audience, eyes wide. And Gen watched them, too-- from the sidelines, standing in his place behind the curtain. And for the last?

These past few days were the moments before the magic trick.

And….well, Senkuu was still better at impossible things.

So, all that was left was to see whether the magic worked.

-------

The cure was the real show so that was all that Gen let himself think about for now. 

He was the assistant, the man behind the curtain, so he’d make sure everything ran smoothly while Senkuu took his time on stage.

That was the important part.

(But...

There was a fourth part that Gen didn’t allow himself to think about now. In all his years being a performer, the final part was always what he tried to forget.

The fourth part was the aftermath.

Magic only existed in deception. Impossible things crafted solely from illusions, the power of the mind to look past the eyes and believe there was something more.

But, what happened after the trick was over?

When the curtain fell back and the crowds went home...

There was nothing real for the magic to hold onto so what was left over after the show for the liars and tricksters? The ones shallow enough to always know what lies beneath the magic.

What came after the show ended?)

No. Gen wasn’t considering that at all.

Not yet.

-------

Four days.

It took four days for Senkuu to declare himself “not contagious” enough to allow for visitors. 

Chrome was first, of course--steady hands that ran over every diagnostic feat that Senkuu had taught him before smiling out at the village as he announced their head scientist was recovering fine.

Kohaku followed next, then Suika, Kaseki, Ruri, Chief Kokuyo. 

Gen watched, almost like an out of body experience, how every visitor that left seemed to loosen the tight thread of tension that strung along the village the past few days. Slowly but surely, everything was going back to normal--laughter and small talk returning to their tasks.

Gen wondered if it was only him that could hear the faint echo of applause, the afterimage of a well done performance.

He didn’t visit.

Not the first day at least. Or the second day either. 

When Chrome asked if he wanted to--asked a few times, actually--Gen had begged off with practiced smiles and fluttering excuses and he didn’t care that it probably still looked strange, that he caught Ruri’s slight frown and Kaseki’s too perceptive gaze.

Gen didn’t care because he knew the conversation he needed to have and it was one better had when Senkuu was truly recovered rather than merely fresh out of the infirmary tent.

So, waiting was fine. Gen knew how to be patient.

Three days after and Senkuu was back in Chrome’s hut through the last of convalescence.

Three days was a long time to get to think so Gen took them the best he could. There was a choice to be made--a decision laying in the aftermath. Gen knew it and he was willing to bet Senkuu already did, too.

For the best really because, when it came down to it, the decision was Senkuu’s own. 

It should be Senkuu’s choice. I had to be. Three whole days and that was the conclusion that Gen had reached over three whole days.

No matter what answer Senkuu had, Gen decided he would be at peace with it. It seemed the only fair path, after all, so--if nothing else--Gen found he’d be content with that.

Part 4: The Aftermath.

Everyone who had wanted to check in already had while Senkuu himself had picked back up his own special brand of exasperation, brisque reassurance before rushing them back to their other tasks.

On the third day, seven days since their last talk, Gen stepped into the hut as easily as if he hadn’t spent the last few days dodging even a whisper.

“Thought you may want dinner.” Gen plopped himself down with grace, sliding the bowl and bread over to where Senkuu was sitting up, fiddling with some half-finished project. “I’d be a terrible nurse if I let you forget again, wouldn’t I?”

Senkuu looked up and smiled while Gen took him in. “Thanks, thought you weren’t my nurse?”

“Well, maybe an exception, then. You’re looking better, Senkuu-chan,” Gen commented.

Senkuu snorted, reaching for the food. “I look like shit.”

He did, actually. His voice still had a rasp to it, skin a touch paler and face a bit thinner. Getting down to it, Senkuu looked just about like he’d just gotten through almost dying.

Gen told him as such.

Senkuu shrugged between spoonfuls of soup. “Between getting rid of the plant and adjusting the acid, I basically went through the world’s worst chemically induced stomach bug. Not to mention, the heartburn.”

“Heartburn,” Gen mused. “There’s gotta be some imagery hiding in that. A touch of symbolism mayhaps.”

Senkuu rolled his eyes, not even bothering with a reply to that--which, all things considered, was probably fair.

“ Are you better, though,” Gen asked.

Senkuu nodded. “Far as I can tell, flowers are gone and everything else is back to normal levels. Hopefully, that’ll be enough to balance it out entirely; but, if the disease ever tries to rebound, I can just take a lower dose. Without the months long buildup, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

Gen breathed out. “ Good .”

“Yeah,” Senkuu agreed, taking a bite out of the bread Gen brought. “Now, we can just go back to figuring out how to undo worldwide petrification and handle the upcoming war, I guess.”

“Tt, honestly, Senkuu-chan, we really have to work on your motivation skills.”

“You saying you aren’t feeling motivated, mentalist?”

Gen didn’t deign that with a response.

Senkuu paused briefly in eating. “You been avoiding me?”

“Me?” Gen held a hand to his chest. “ Never . I’ll have you know I’ve never avoided anything or anyone in my entire life.”

“Liar,” Senkuu accused, lips quirking back up.

“Only the best.” Gen shifted his legs under him, sitting crisscross on the other side of the room. “I have a question I wanted to ask.”

“You always have a question you want to ask.” Senkuu waved the bread at Gen pointedly. “Don’t act like that’s new.”

“True enough.” He propped his head on his hand, watching Senkuu go back to eating. “I’m fairly sure that’s one of the reasons why you like me, though. You’d get bored without it.”

Senkuu inclined his head, unbothered. “Probably. Take it you have a specific question this time.”

Gen hummed in agreement.

Then, said nothing.

Senkuu raised a brow at the silence. “Just because I’m not living on a deadline doesn't mean I won’t die of old age. What’s the question, mentalist?”

Gen opened his mouth.

….and nothing came out.

He meant to ask. Really, he did. The words were just hesitating stubbornly on his lips, clinging one last time before they could be spoken. The absence of sound leaving him unbalanced.

Ridiculous, honestly. The hard part was Senkuu’s, all Gen had to do was ask the question.

Senkuu watched him hesitate, expression softening as he sighed. “Gen. I don’t know what you’re overthinking this time but just ask .”

So, Gen did.

“Before,” he started, “months ago, I asked if you actually wanted a relationship--if you’d choose it without the flowers. You didn’t answer then.” Gen stopped, looking up to meet Senkuu’s eyes. “Could you answer it now?”

Gen was watching for Senkuu’s reaction which is why he was able to catch even some of it with how rapidly it changed--surprise first, momentary puzzlement and a brief flash of wariness then something more vulnerable before Senkuu’s eyes sharpened, taking in Gen instead and Gen could almost hear the gears turning behind his gaze.

“You don’t have to….,” Gen trailed off, “well, I suppose you don’t have to do anything , of course. Even now. Especially now. I just wanted to know what you would answer now that--”

“Why,” Senkuu cut him off.

Gen blinked.

Of all the responses he’d imagined Senkuu giving, that hadn’t been one of them. Not even an answer at all.

“Why what,” Gen asked.

Senkuu was still watching him closely. “Why ask now? Why do you want to know?”

“I--,” Gen stopped. 

It wasn’t just that he wanted to know, he needed to know. In fact, Gen didn’t think he’d ever needed an answer so badly in his life, with an ache so desperate that it burned through him.

“Just answer the question,” Gen finished instead. “Please, Senkuu.”

There was quiet as Senkuu looked at him, reading Gen’s face for something even Gen wasn’t sure what he was trying to find. 

For a brief moment, Gen had a wild fear that Senkuu wasn’t going to say anything, that they’d just be stuck here waiting for eternity while the world moved on past them.

Then, Senkuu breathed in and looked down. He picked at the last bit of bread, not eating it anymore just turning it over like he wanted something to do with his hands.

“I don’t know if my answer really matters,” Senkuu said finally.

“Of course, it does.”

“Does it?” Senkuu’s eyes turned up again, dark red looking through him. “How? I told you, back when you were feeling stupidly guilty about the Hanahaki thing: my feelings aren’t your responsibility, they’re mine . Just because I’m not dying from them doesn’t make that any less true. Nothing’s really changed in that way so why should the answer matter more now?”

Gen didn’t know how to answer that. Not in anything so watered down as words would have to be. What was different between then and now?

“ Everything ,” Gen said the words slowly. “Everything’s changed, it’s all different.”

How could it not be?

The show was over.

“You think?” Senkuu smiled at him. It wasn’t a particularly amused smile, ending as more of a grimace than anything. “ Gen. I love you; but, I know you, too. And I don’t know psychology like you do; but, I think I figured out this much. You like to know how people tick, especially the ones you care about. That’s obvious. And since you’re good at piecing together that kind of stuff, you’ve got a bad habit of making everyone else’s feelings your job to handle. ” Senkuu’s eyes were warm. “Most of the time that does help--better than anything I could come up with definitely. But….for someone who keeps talking about being shallow, you’re fucking terrible at figuring out what you actually want rather than just what works best for your plans”

Senkuu sighed.

“So, if you want my answer?” Senkuu met his eyes, expression unwavering. “I don’t want to be one of your plans, not like that at least. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who’s only there because it’s what I want. If you want what we have to change, you’re going to have to choose it for yourself, Gen. I’m not making the choice for you.”

And Gen, he….

Gen would have been content with any answer. He told himself that. As long as it was Senkuu’s decision, Gen would adapt and be happy to do so..

This wasn’t an answer.

So, maybe Gen wasn’t as content with any answer as he thought. Maybe if it had been an answer at all. Any answer. Not this.

But, of course, it wasn’t and Gen should have seen this coming. Of course, Senkuu wouldn’t just--

Because Gen wanted--

Because he thought he could have--

His jaw clenched shut, hand tightening with nails digging into his palms hard enough to leave marks, hard enough until he felt like he could breathe through it.

“You’re so….,” Gen bit off the words, harsh and clawing in his chest. “You’re so fucking stubborn. You know that, Senkuu-chan? I think I hate you.”

He didn’t. It was the biggest lie in the world; but, how much easier would that have been?

Senkuu had seen it, too, and nodded kind of like an apology. “Yeah, well, I guess I gotta be. So, why did you want to know, Gen?”

Gen sighed .

He couldn’t help it, not sure what it even meant but his shoulders dropped with it as he shook his head. The fight had drained out for the moment until he just felt numb.

“Like you said,” Gen gave a perfect smile, “I guess it doesn’t matter.”

A pause.

“Okay,” agreed Senkuu.

“Okay,” Gen responded.

Okay.

-------

Nothing changed and, now, the show was over.

They all lived happily ever after.

The End.

-------

…..Only.

Only it wasn’t fucking over. How could it be? How could, after everything, nothing-- nothing --be fucking different!

The same.

Days passed. A week. Senkuu was back in the village and there was still a war coming, still billions trapped in stone. Ishigami Village never stood still and the only thing that was always the same was that everything could change, could evolve into something different, tear itself apart and rebuild anew.

The Kingdom of Science didn’t actually have normal days; but, it was the same .

Everything had fallen back into its normal places, just as if nothing had ever happened. 

Suika picked flowers and Kaseki built machines. Kohaku trained the fighters and Ruri helped the elderly. Chrome led with the phone and Senkuu….

Was Alive.

Senkuu was alive, was alive, was alive, and would stay alive.

And Gen was so….he was so….. happy.

The curtain drew to a close and the show was over, magic fading away like the sparks left behind after a camera flash because, of course, it was only an illusion. Of course.

They all lived happily ever after….

The story reset.

Nothing changed.

Gen hadn’t changed.

Only.

Real life doesn't have romantic endings. People ride off into the sunset and then they’re just walking alone in the dark. So, what kind of idiot would yearn for something they can’t believe in? Fate and destiny and happy endings along with all the rest of the magic tricks.

Only.

Maybe everyone wanted to fall in love? Considered it some lonely time. Maybe being in love still sounded so warm? Even if it didn’t make it true.

Only.

What Gen wanted….

He wanted.

Gen did know what he wanted. He’d known it for weeks, probably for months if he admitted it to himself. 

And, yes, it was exactly what Senkuu worried about; why Senkuu refused to answer and was so fucking stuborn. Because, yes, Gen would do a lot of things, has done a lot of things, and too many he didn’t regret. So, yes, Gen absolutely would lie about being in love--for years, forever --if Senkuu was the one who chose it, if Senkuu was the one who wanted it.

And, no, Senkuu was also wrong. Because, no, it wasn’t only because it was what Senkuu wanted and maybe Gen was kinder than he’d ever admitted to himself but he wasn’t that selfless. So, no , Gen wouldn’t have lied just for Senkuu, not now.

Only. Gen wanted to fall in love with Senkuu.

Gen wanted it so very, very much that it felt like a burning coal in his chest and also like the thing with feathers. Gen wanted to lie to himself and pretend to have depth enough to believe that lie. Gen wanted to be warm .

But, he didn’t know if he could be.

Even still.

He wasn’t sure if he had changed all that much. Wasn’t sure if he had changed at all, actually. He’d know, wouldn’t he?

But, Gen thought he could try to be in a relationship if it was what Senkuu wanted. If Senkuu was the one who started it, who chose it. Maybe one day Gen could weave an illusion so beautiful that even he might forget for a time that he was cold.

Yet. Senkuu. Hadn’t. Answered .

Because he was infuriating, because he was the worst, because he knew Gen, too, and so….he hadn’t answered. And Gen hadn’t expected that. Never could fully account for Ishigami Senkuu.

Who’d asked for Gen to answer instead.

And wouldn’t it be the most selfish lie in the world if Gen was the one who asked for it? Even if he couldn’t believe it. Gen was a lot of things; but, he never thought himself cruel. Not to Senkuu, at least.

Above everything, Gen never wanted to be the cause of Senkuu’s pain again.

And Senkuu was alive.

Gen smiled and it hurt, leaning back and pretending to be lazy as he watched the village move around him, orbiting with Senkuu bright in the center.

Only…. This was enough?

Everything was the same. But Senkuu was still alive and the village was still here and, so, maybe that was a perfect enough ending already.

Gen, at least, thought he could be happy with just that.

Or at least he could learn.

-------

Nothing changed and, now, the show was over .

They all lived happily ever after.

The End.

So, just….fuck.

Fuck! Fuck . fuck. FUCK!

-------

In the end, Gen never needed anyone else to break his heart.

He’d figured that out on his own.

-------

On the morning of March 24, 5740, Gen woke up for the first time to a painful cough and black nightshade petals.

Gen, however, was not a scientist--or, at least, not the same kind as Senkuu. Therefor, when a recognized phenomenon presented itself, he did not walk himself through an entire research process and instead cut through all the bullshit to come to a reasonably sound conclusion.

His first reaction wasn’t confusion nor denial nor fear nor even determination.

Instead, Gen felt one emotion and he felt it so keenly, so deeply that he immediately shoved it down and buried it where he didn’t have to see it.

After, he consciously chose a second feeling, which doubled as a thought, and Gen thought it very, very loudly.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

--------

Once again, too early in the morning found Gen stalking into the lab, sleep deprived and boots still half frozen from pacing the woods waiting for a specific someone to wake up.

Senkuu yawned, tilting his head. “Morning. You okay? You look--”

That’s as far as he got before Gen grabbed his wrist, pulling him into the lab.

“Kiss me,” Gen said, barely having the peace of mind to make sure it still sounded like a question.

Senkuu blinked. “Sure, but why--”

Ge launched forward before he could finish, pulling Senkuu up to meet him.

This kiss needed to be different .

And in a way, it most certainly was. The first kiss had  been an experiment, a softer impulse than pure mechanics but still an exploration. The second time had been a declaration, a mix between the revelation of discovery and the release of built up tension. This was neither. While the first tasted sweet and the second like fire, the third felt like….

Desperation.

Gen pushed through it anyway. His fingers twisted bone white in Senkuu’s robe. He tasted the hint of blood on his tongue and wasn’t sure if it was a remnant of the flowers or the kiss.

He angled his face, tilted Senkuu’s head, closer, unti Gen could no longer breathe, no room for air left between them.

There wasn’t any finesse this time. The kiss was good, but in the hairpin way that spoke of too hard and too fast to savour.

Gen wanted a kiss that he could forget himself in, one that he could prove something with, one that had to be different. It had to be.

Because Gen was different. Wasn’t he?

So, if he couldn’t find the change here, then--

Gen pushed his thoughts away again, again, again.

He didn’t want to think. 

He just...He just wanted this, okay? He wanted Senkuu here in front of him, kissing him back. And Gen wanted….

Finally, Gen pulled back.

He breathed deeply, eyes falling shut as he tried to tell--focus almost like praying--and searching….

Somewhere deep, Gen still felt something scratching against his throat, a pain beneath his lungs and flowers reaching to choke.

He couldn’t find what had changed even though it had to be there.

“Fuck, ” Gen hissed, pushing off the lab table.

“Well, that might be a jump,” Senkuu commented, voice dry as always albeit out of breath. “You going to tell me what that was about, then?”

Gen stalked across the floor and back like a cornered animal. “Fuck, shit! ”

“I mean,” Senkuu leaned back on the table, casually watching Gen’s pacing. “I’m not complaining clearly. But, if we’re still going to do stuff like this, we probably should have a longer talk about what this is. Not to mention--no offense--but you seem to be working through something.”

Gen stopped pacing but didn’t respond, knocking his head back against the shelves and going over his reaction in every detail he could, pulling it apart and turning it over.

It should be different.

Gen wanted it to be.

“Mentalist?”

Gen turned, looking at Senkuu like how he always looked at Senkuu. And Senkuu was there, frowning by now and eyeing Gen with no small amount of concern but otherwise Gen felt the same as ever.

And, suddenly, Gen was exhausted . 

He sighed, stepping back to the lab table and boosting himself up to sit on the edge next to Senkuu.

He gave it one last chance. Maybe if he could hear it laid out, then he’d feel….well, he’d feel whatever.

“Hey, Senkuu-chan,” Gen said, too wrung out to put any emotion behind the words, “if I ask now, will you tell me if you want a relationship with me?”

Senkuu suddenly went still, something wary tensing around his shoulders. “Gen. Stop pushing this. Please.”

Right. Oh right, Gen could see how in other circumstances, it might be more than a little cruel to keep this up, to keep asking Senkuu refuse even when Gen had already been told--had been told since this all started--exactly how Senkuu felt. 

Senkuu had always been too honest to bother hiding it. Gen had hoped now he might be able to do the same.

Gen dug in his pocket and carefully laid a clump of dark petals between them.

“I have Hanahaki, by the way.”

Silence.

In a different situation, there would be something immeasurably satisfying about watching Senkuu’s face transform from mild wariness to confusion and finally settling on a stupefied bewilderment the likes of which Gen normally only experienced from the other side of their conversations.

Unfortunately, Gen wasn’t quite in the right mindset for schadenfreude. “As you can see , our situation may have been altered, so anytime now that you want to answer that question, I’ll be waiting. Fatally so, in fact.”

“You ….,” Senkuu started, stopped, shook his head then stared into the distance somewhat blankly. “There’s...no, that’s impossible.”

Gen cocked his head tiredly.

Well, Gen would beg to fucking differ.

“Like actually impossible,” Senkuu muttered again, chin turning down as he spoke mostly to himself. “It can’t be Hanahaki. You’re wrong, it has to be something else.”

“Senkuu-chan,” Gen said in what he thought was an impressively level voice, “this really isn’t the time for a lack of self confidence--and a surprising one, considering it’s you . I legitimately have plants growing inside of me and I can promise it’s Hanahaki.”

“No,” Senkuu shook his head again, “there’s no way statistically . Do you know how rare this specific recessive genetic disorder is? We have less than one hundred people, it’s fucking insane that I even had it. For both of us...no, that’s one in a billion odds--more actually. That’s…”

Senkuu seemed to be going through something here. Granted, not the thing that Gen would rather he be going through but instead some kind of science-y rational impossible thing.

“If you have Hanahaki, we might literally be the unluckiest people to exist.” Senkuu spread out his hands, still looking slightly baffled. “Like astronomically unlucky--nearly unable to be mathematically quantifiable. Fuck .” 

“Such a romantic,” Gen said dryly. “Now, tell me if you want this or not! ”

And that finally snapped Senkuu out of his daze.

He blinked, glancing up at Gen and his eyes sharpened as if he was finally catching up with the situation in front of him and taking in Gen while he did.

Then, Senkuu tilted his head. “Wait, what’s up with you?”

Gen stared.

“My intestines have taken up horticulture,” Gen snapped out, “I think it’s pretty fucking obvious what’s up with me! I’m dying !”

And, then, Senkuu-- Ishigami Senkuu, the most aggravating man on the entire planet--rolled his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. What’s actually the matter?”

Gen didn’t know about love; but, strangling Senkuu suddenly didn’t seem like a half-bad option.

He settled for glaring at him instead.

Some small forgotten part of Senkuu’s self-preservation must have picked up the murderous intent because Senkuu actually grimaced, letting out a sigh before he rephrased. 

“I mean ,” Senkuu said, “that we already have a cure for Hanahaki--a proven one. Sure, it’ll make for an unpleasant few hours or so, but your case is early enough that you’ll be fine by morning. It’s not like you’ve actually gotta worry about dying from it; so, what’s with your whole….” He gestured at the lab, encompassing most likely everything from the past few minutes.  “What’s up with you? What are you freaking out about?”

And, fine, alright…. maybe Gen could kind of see Senkuu’s point when phrased like that.

They did already have a cure. Gen did know that, had already known that. So, no, maybe the danger of dying wasn’t what had Gen feeling like this, a time bomb under his skin and something….something wrong.

The problem was this.

On the morning of March 24, 5740, Gen woke up for the first time to a painful cough and black nightshade petals.

And the first thing he felt was relief .

The problem was that even though Gen knew--he knew --that Senkuu was in love with him, he’d still gone and developed Hanahaki anyway. How could that be possible?

Gen already knew.

Hanahaki had never been a disease of love, only of heartbreak.

And, like always, it had never been Senkuu that was the problem. It had always been Gen.

A riddle, Schrodinger’s long lost love letter. Gen had proof he fell in love--was dying to try even--yet still couldn’t quite believe it. So, which was the lie?

Gen looked down at the petals, tracing the dark edges.

“I really...I really want to fall in love with you, Senkuu-chan,” Gen whispered. A confession, though not the one he wanted to give.

Senkuu didn’t say anything and Gen couldn’t quite bare to look up and see his reaction.

“I want to,” Gen repeated. “And I am . I did . That’s what Hanahaki means, right? I did it--even if I don’t know how. I fell in love.” He released a breath, the next words so quiet that maybe they’d disappear altogether. “So, why don’t I feel any different?”

Senkuu sighed. “Gen--”

“I need it to feel different,” Gen said again, more urgent. “Because if I don’t, then what if….”

What if it was just another lie? Not fate or destiny. No magic, just an illusion doomed to fade.

“ Mentalist .” 

A hand jerked Gen’s chin up and then he was meeting Senkuu’s eyes, warm but with that same fond exasperation bled almost to amusement. 

“I swear you’re such a fucking idealist ,” Senkuu said with the faint hint of a smile, “You’re like the world’s most cynical romantic. It’s ridiculous.”

Gen blinked. “What.”

Senkuu’s hand fell away from his chin, shaking his head as he walked over to the lab shelves. “I don’t really know what you were expecting here? Fireworks? Some kind of choir ending in a rainbow?” He grabbed two small bottles of powder from the shelves. “ You’re the one who kept saying love was just a set of chemical reactions. I already told you: Hanahaki’s only a series of symptoms set off from a specific cocktail of hormones and enzymes. Just a mix of stress and attachment hormones--don’t read anymore into it. There's no reason to make it some kind of magical love litmus test.”

Senkuu set the bottles--the cure, Gen guessed--down on the lab table with a decided thump.

“You’re still you, Gen,” Senkuu said seriously. “The disease doesn’t change that. It doesn’t get to.” His lips quirked up. “Which knowing you means you’re probably going to overthink everything at least three times before you decide on anything. But, hey, I guess it’s still better than slow death by flowers.”

Gen picked up the medicine, turning it over in his hands.

“You still get a choice in this,” Senkuu reminded him.

“Do I?” Gen asked before he could think better of it. “Do I want one?”

Personally, Gen felt rather tired of failing to figure out things for himself.

“Maybe not,” Senkuu snorted. “But, honestly, I think I know you well enough to know you do. You’d never trust anything otherwise.”

Gen didn’t know about that. Or-- well --maybe he did. If not, he wouldn’t be so desperate to prove himself wrong. But, still….

So.

Okay.

Gen was a mentalist. He knew the mind above all else. And he knew himself . 

He still knew the role he had to play. Even if it was for himself this time.

But, still....

And, suddenly, the full impact of everything hit him in the chest--from waking up in the middle of the night with petals on his bed to the bone deep relief and fear to the panic that drove him here and now….And it was so….

He laughed though it ended in more of a groan.

“We’re so ridiculous. I can’t tell if we’re the smartest or dumbest people in the world; but, I’m leaning on the latter. This is so, ugh .” Gen laughed again. He tipped over on the table, just a little bit so he could rest his head on Senkuu’s shoulder and hid his face there where it felt warmer. “I mean, for fuck’s sake , can’t we just make this easy? Would that really have been so bad? Really?”

There was such a simplicity in not having to choose.

“What? You and me?” Senkuu grinned. “Never, apparently. We’re medical anomalies.”

“If we were Ruri and Chrome, we could have handled this months ago,” Gen challenged. “Within the hour more than likely.”

Senkuu snickered in that way that Gen really enjoyed.

“Nah,” Senkuu said, “you kidding? Chrome hasn’t confessed in years. If it was them, it’d be a mess.”

Gen hummed into his shoulder. “You’re right. An old fashioned melodrama. The pining, the suspense. Tears shed, hearts broken. The entire village would probably get involved.”

“Terrible,” Senkuu agreed

“Good thing we can avoid that.”

“Guess we got lucky.”

“Lucky,” Gen bemoaned, sitting back up and letting out his breath in a single go.

Senkuu waited.

“I love you,” Gen said, just to try--one more time.

It didn’t sound any different. Hesitance and uncertainty still fluttering at the edges.

In the end, Senkuu told the truth . Bastard . Hanahaki didn’t change anything. It couldn’t make his decision for him. They’d already figured out how the trick worked and, once seen, a trick was impossible to fall for again.

Still, Gen rolled the medicine bottles in his hands. “This is going to be awful, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Senkuu said without hesitation. “I’ll tell the village you caught the same stomach bug I had.”

“Another truth--how convenient.” Gen made a face. “Sure, there’s not another way?”

Senkuu gave a lopsided smirk. “Maybe there is. Have you heard about the old divorce statistics? What about intimacy studies and temporary emotional highs? Have you considered this might be a trauma reaction?”

Gen halfheartedly whacked his head against Senkuu’s shoulder. “I hate you.”

“You keep saying that but I guess you don’t.” Senkuu said. “Though, hey, if you want I could try literally just being myself, that’ll definitely fix it. Right, mentalist?”

“Yes, well, don’t keep from having too much fun, Senkuu-chan; I’m just dying .”

“No, you aren’t.”

And, no, Gen guessed he wasn’t.

Gen had always been stubborn.

-------

For the record? Senkuu never had been one to mince words so Gen really had no room to be surprised that the “cure” was exactly as unpleasant as he expected.

The only thing Gen could compare it to was a bad bout of food poisoning he’d gotten some, oh, three thousand years ago--back when luxuries like hospitals existed yet Gen had still spent a weekend curled up miserably in his apartment choosing to face it alone as usual.

Now, Gen closed his eyes. The infirmary tent was--wisely--tucked away some distance from the rest of the huts; but, still close enough that Gen could hear the noises of the village flowing around him.

Truth. Lie. Gen missed their old world.

He missed the convenience, he really did. He missed small things--grocery stores and nail polish, internet and chewing gum. He grieved the lost chances--a bakery down the street he’d always meant to try, a half finished book by his bedside, the people around him he’d analyzed but never tried to know .

(He didn’t miss his old life .)

Truth. Lie. Gen wasn’t the same person he’d been .

How could he be? The Gen from before had never woken up in the middle of a war, never played a spy, never had scars on his chest from spears that didn’t quite make it through. The Gen from before had gotten used to being alone. He’d only understood loyalty as some abstract grand gesture--not like he knew it now, a deep quiet contentment that tugged when Ruri helped him build batteries, when Kaseki brought him lunch, when he was in the village and realized he didn’t want to leave.

(But, what people forget to mention is that your new self doesn’t erase the old so much as consume it. Gen now had only been built on the foundations of who he was before. Not either but both.)

Truth. Lie. Gen could fall in love.

Gen’s body told him he was in love. His brain spun out the appropriate chemical concoction that translated to flowers rooting in his stomach.

Love. In a way that felt like it should be easy. 

But, Senkuu had been right as he so usually was and Gen didn’t think he himself had been wrong either.

Because a mix of hormones and chemical equations would only ever be a starting point for love. It wasn’t a relationship--it was a moment, not a future. Senkuu had once said all feelings were illogical, that they weren’t supposed to be, that was why humans got to decide on which they’d follow. Gen had always thought it was impossible to force himself to believe in something that sounded so kind it must be a lie.

He still thought that actually.

Waking and finding himself choking on flowers was a realization but not a change--a gained awareness to something that apparently already existed rather than something fundamentally new. 

Gen was still the same person he’d been before. Both rather than either.

And the mind was not the brain. Not exactly.

His brain told him he was in love and that was true; but, that didn’t mean that deep in his mind he could force the same fate.

Only maybe…

Gen’s eyes snapped open.

Maybe he never had to.

Maybe….

Maybe that wasn’t what love was about. Not really. 

Gen struggled to sit up because he needed the clarity. The world was spinning and he couldn’t tell if it was because of the terrible medicine or the way his heart was banging against his ribs.

People always talked about falling in love like it was some powerful outside force. Unbreakable and unbeatable. Fate and destiny. Soulmates and one true loves. And all the impossible things that sounded like fairytale rather than something that could be held by human beings. 

Gen couldn’t force himself to believe in something like that. Even for Senkuu. Especially for Senkuu, a human, a scientist. Wonderfully and rationally exactly himself.

But, maybe love wasn’t fate so much as faith. Easily confused yet so entirely different.

Because faith….meant choice.

Gen couldn’t force himself to believe in love; but, maybe he could choose to believe in it.

And that was it.

Saying you were in love was neither a lie nor a truth. Of course, it wasn’t.

Choosing to love was a promise.

If they let it be.

Choice felt so much more fragile than destiny; it meant they could still mess it up, that it could fade if they didn’t hold tight enough. But, destiny and fate weren’t things that could be controlled while working inside it; faith and choice had to be. 

And maybe that’s what made love so human.

Gen wasn’t interested in loving Senkuu like they were anything other than so amazingly, so fantastically, so breathtakingly human.

So, couldn’t he?

Being in love was a promise. 

Which meant….

Gen could choose to believe in love; for every second, every minute, every day, for years, and for decades, and then the milenia that came after that.

It wasn’t easy. It would never be set in stone. It wasn’t supposed to be.

Gen couldn’t fall in love.

But ….

 He thought he could walk in love, with his eyes open, a step deeper every time, as long as he could see Senkuu on the other side.

-------

One day this time.

Gen’s case had never gotten the chance to get as far as long as Senkuu’s so all Gen had to really put up with was a night of queasiness followed by the much greater discomfort of Suika’s worried eyes--and, yes, maybe Gen did see why Senkuu always tried to avoid that later part.

Anyway, it took a day until Gen felt well enough to be back to normal.

Unsurprising in its entirety, the first thing he did was find his way to the lab.

Senkuu looked up, giving a short crooked smile when he saw Gen waiting by the door. “Here for the checkup?”

“Hmm, well, Kohaku insisted ,” Gen said, stepping inside as Senkuu grabbed for the medical equipment. “Rather strenuously, in fact. I’m not fool enough to refuse a lion.”

“She’d drag you here if you tried,” Senkuu agreed and Gen only hissed slightly as the cool metal of the stethoscope to his back, listening for whatever Senkuu was looking to find. 

Gen waited as Senkuu finished, moving on to check Gen’s pulse.

“Still beating,” Gen teased softly.

Senkuu rolled his eyes. “You’re cured--least as far as the symptoms go.” He sat the tools aside. “That all you came in for?”

Gen smiled. “No.”

Senkuu leaned back, waiting for Gen to make his point.

“You know I had a lot of time to think recently,” Gen continued. “About certain terrible diseases and love and the mix between the two. And, while I was doing said consideration, I came to a realization. There’s still one part of this you never explained.”

Senkuu lifted a brow. “Which is?”

“The flowers,” Gen said. “Black nightshade specifically. I can see Hanahaki doing a lot of things; but, how did it know which flower to pick?”

“Oh.” Then, Senkuu smirked. “It didn’t. It’s only probability. Humans come in contact with all kinds of plant spores all the time; basic chance that flowers that are around you are more likely to get brought in.” He gave a short tug to Gen’s coat. “You literally hide the things up your sleeves. Of course, it would be balck nightshade.”

“So, the symbolic part….,” Gen started.

Senkuu shook his head. “Just chance. Black nightshade flowers had your best odds and I was around you. Humans are like that. If they already know who they’re in love with and they know the flower’s supposed to represent it, they’ll twist whatever ‘symbolism’ they need to make it fit.”

“Fascinating,” Gen said. “A matter of perception, then.”

“Sure.” Senkuu shrugged. “Why? Disappointed it’s not something more complicated?”

Gen considered.

“No,” he said finally. “I think I like that better actually. It’s fitting.” He paused. “They found something in the flowers themselves, just so it can be more magical. Maybe there’s still something special about that.”

“Romantic,” Senkuu accused.

Gen grinned. 

“I love you,” Gen chose and this time there was no hesitation at all.

Senkuu stopped.

“I’m in love with you,” Gen said again. “I want to be and it’s my choice. I promise.” He let out a breath. “It’s still your choice, too. But, you know, I’m fairly sure that you’re still in love with me, too; so, if you could give me your answer now that would be great. Because, honestly , Senkuu, if you don’t fucking kiss me after all this, I think I’m going to--” 

Senkuu kissed him.

It was different, it was the same, and it was perfect.

And Gen was in love as he kissed him back, hand wrapping around Senkuu’s neck and adjusting the angle because--perfect and everything--that had still been a near miss to hitting his nose.

“That’s a yes, then?” Gen asked to the space between them.

“Yeah, okay, fine .” Senkuu muttered, kissing him again. “Guess we’re doing this.”

Gen kept grinning, so wide it probably looked stupid even though he couldn’t really stop. He pulled back just enough to lean his head against Senkuu’s, catching air with quick breaths.

“Hey, Senkuu-chan,” he whispered. “Wait, there’s one more thing I need to tell you.”

Senkuu met his eyes warily. “What.”

“I’m still seriously considering changing my favorite flower.”

A beat.

Then, Senkuu laughed and it really was a wonderful sound.

-------

…176,949,804 Seconds Later

(or 5 Years, 7 Months, 10 Days, 2 Hours, 43 Minutes, and 24 Seconds)

As the Stone World transitioned not-so-slowly back into modernity, it was entertaining to see that some practices were picked up rapidly while other traditions were held onto with tooth and nail. One of those persistent tagalongs being that the villagers never really got back into eating inside in small groups rather than just all piling out together to eat in the sun.

Rather than continuing an overall pointless argument, the growing number of de-petrified shrugged it off until community meals were just the norm.

Funny thing this new world they’d made--a separate beast entirely, built on the strength of both worlds that came before it.

Which meant that a steady group was already outside when Chrome finally came hurrying up, face flushed and eyes bright in a way that could only mean something fascinating was happening with science.

“Sorry, I’m late! The medics over at the hospital have a new case and they wanted to know if we ever heard of it in the village back before…,” He waved a hand, “well, before. It’s crazy! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oh?” Red eyes glanced up briefly from his journals, scrawled with chemical notations and the beginnings of a new formula for rocket fuel.

Senkuu was making his lunch a working lunch--as was his usual. And, with his chin hooked over his shoulder and pressed in close, Gen had decided to help--as was his usual. What this meant in practice was that Senkuu spent 90% of his lunch working and 10% actually eating while Gen spent 90% of his lunch flirting and 10% actually helping.

After five years, this was also just the usual state of things and the rest of the village had gotten remarkably good at picking out the two’s legitimately important trains of thought from the rest of the lighthearted bickering.

Chrome nodded excitedly, only slightly managing to calm his tone to one more suited for discussing a serious illness. “Yeah, they say this guy’s coughing up flowers--apparently there’s a plant growing in his stomach.”

Gen and Senkuu both went still.

And, then, all at once Gen collapsed backwards, arm covering his face as he groaned loudly.  “Fuck.”

“Nearly six years before a new case.” Senkuu nodded to himself. “Yeah, that fits with the old statistics we had on this thing--especially, if you calculate in the waves between the de-petrified.” He smirked down at Gen. “Any more cases than that and we’d have to be super unlucky, right, mentalist?”

Gen kicked at him halfheartedly. “Shut up. I hate you.”

Senkuu cackled. “No, you don’t.”

“Wait,” Kohaku spoke up, ignoring the byplay. “So, this is one of your old world’s diseases? This flower sickness?”

“Oh, yeah!” Taiju beamed. “I remember now! Senkuu, you were talking about this one from your medical sites! It’s the love one! Haiki something--”

“Hanahaki Disease,” Gen corrected despairingly, arm still covering his face. 

“Love,” Ruri tilted her head. “The illness is from love?”

Senkuu grinned. “Not quite.”

“It’s from unrequited love, isn’t it?” Mirai piped in, the familiar curiosity only brighter as she’d gotten into her teens--she was definitely growing into one of the kingdom’s top researchers. Currently, though, she smiled up at her older brother. “I remember you read to me about it from those tabloids. It sounded so romantic, like a fairytale.” She frowned, the situation sinking in. “I didn’t know it was actually real.”

Senkuu nodded. “Real and deadly. Patients who have it normally only have a few months to live.” He smirked. “Or they would, without a cure.”

“A cure,” Ukyo asked.

Chrome’s expression sobered. “Yeah, the doctors are already talking about planning a surgery. Apparently, there’s some kind of side effect they’re worried about, though.”

Senkuu snorted, standing up and brushing off his clothes. “No, not that. I meant an actual cure.”

“The old world already made a cure?!” Chrome shouted before he blinked, frowning. “Wait, the doctors didn’t mention that at all.”

Senkuu’s smirk widened. “Because the old world didn’t make it. I did-- a few years ago, actually.”

The rest of the group stared--minus Gen, who was doing his level best to pretend none of this was happening or if it was, that it waited until after lunch.

“Eh?!” Ginro spoke first. “Why bother curing a disease we didn’t even have yet?”

Chrome was the next, figuring out the real problem. “But, how did you cure it without a case to work on?”

“We did have a case,” Senkuu said. “Two of them, in fact.”

Gen groaned even louder, absolutely refusing to move.

Only more questions followed after that: 

“Wait, what?”

“Who?”

“When?!”

Senkuu ignored them all, leaning down and poking at Gen until the other man finally lowered his arm. 

“You want to tell them or me,” Senkuu asked.

Gen glared.

“Me, it is, then. But, that means you don’t get to complain after.” Senkuu lifted his head and said--far, far too casually. “Right, so a few years ago, I might’ve been dying.”

In the all out explosion of noise that followed, Gen thought to himself that there really was never a normal day in the Kingdom of Science and--not unrelated--Senkuu was an insane genius with a precarious grip on things that should and should not be said casually!

Gen wouldn’t have chosen his life any other way.