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thesaurus-lover · 2 years

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Love Languages ~ dcst

i think i almost exclusively worked on this at times past 1 am but maybe that efficient consistency is what makes me like it a lot haha.. ha... ANYWAYS enjoy! it's also up on AO3 in chapters if u prefer that formatting

a mini anthology-ish thing inspired by this post here !!

synopsis: i love you, je t'aime, 大好きだよ; different ways to say the exact same thing. the Kingdom of Science is a big family, isn’t it? that just means there’s a lot more ways for these people to convey that same meaning.

cw: long post, manga spoilers until maybe the ship building arc?? though this was written with future arcs in mind too, definitely manga character spoilers past that arc, canon-compliant, like... super cheesy, but that's pretty much it this is mostly fluffy slice of life shenanigans

word count: 8.0k (haha that is a LOT longer than i first expected)

what he knew

At the end of every day, Taiju could conclude with certainty that he was loved.

A lot of people could, actually, but it was often easy to forget—especially if you weren’t good at remembering the little things that mattered. And while Taiju wasn’t exactly the brightest in the room, he sure didn’t allow himself to forget those little things.

Like, for example, ah…

Oh, right!

Starting with the obvious, not once in his life has he known of Yuzuriha giving a gift that wasn't handmade herself. Quite literally ever—it didn’t matter for whom or for what occasion. If you didn’t trust him on that, you could even ask Senku and his immaculate memory, and he’d tell you the same thing. And, well, even Taiju had figured that that kind of thing was a crazy standard to set for yourself, but at the same time, Yuzuriha was thoroughly dedicated to her craft and the love that came with it; she put her mind to that goal and always delivered.

As a result, even back when they were younger, it made him think about how he, Mr. Simpleton, could possibly make beyond-incredible, oh-so-amazing Yuzuriha feel at least a fraction of what her gifts made him feel. His go-to for Senku was a good ol' hug, sure, but he had always doubted that it was the most suitable strategy when it came to her. For one…

She was a girl.

Second, she was the girl that he was madly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with. He couldn’t just come onto her so strongly, that’d be putting her on the spot!

So, for years, Taiju did his best to search for every opening and take every opportunity to convey his appreciation and admiration in other ways. (And he hasn’t realized this, but taking that effort was also quite the act of love in itself!) Looking back, he liked to think that doing so got him to improve quite a lot with using his words; the previously lame, impersonal, “You—um, you did great! Thank you for your hard work!” would now sound something more like, “You’re so, so cool, Yuzuriha! I’ve seen you do it a million times, but it doesn’t get old!”

And, yeah, he was more comfortable with hugging her now, but it was nice to have other means of expression in his arsenal.

Taiju was certainly proud of himself for that, but it was safe to say that he was even prouder of his best friend for his development of receiving their love over the years.

Yuzuriha herself wasn’t as averse to open affection as Senku was—far from it, really, but she understood that the best way to crack his shell and really get through to him was through rather unique methods. Particularly, the overlap of their respective passions.

Everyone knew about Senku’s tendency to make horrifyingly specific infodumps in response to even a remotely curious question, but the majority haven’t even seen the worst of it. If it was Taiju or Yuzuriha listening—and they truly would be listening—the sheer length of that monologue would put any Please Meet the Word Count essay to shame. Back then, there was only one person, excluding Senku’s own father, who dared keep that kind of conversation going and emerged successful: Yuzuriha.

It was kind of scary sight, honestly.

Taiju has tried to do it, he really has, but the words just wouldn’t—couldn’t—get through his skull. Not just Senku’s words either; anything Yuzuriha replied that went past “Ooh, and then?” or “What else?” would get into technical details that Taiju didn’t want to fathom.

“I see… a polymer, huh?” Yuzuriha had tilted her head, fully immersed in the impromptu Textile Science class. “I always knew polyester was the most durable, but I never learned why.”

With a chuckle, Senku leaned back into his seat, propping his hands behind his head. “It’s the ethylene glycol. Y’know, from petroleum? Its chemical reaction with terephthalic acid is the secret behind it. Eh, not really a secret, but yeah.”

“Cool!” Taiju said, enthusiastically nodding along, but his mind was thinking anything but “cool.”

I… it… what? Weren’t clothes made from plants? Those chemicals did not sound like plants.

Though, in spite of having to sit through all that with an increasingly dizzy head, never has this made him feel left out. Honestly, he was always just happy to see that look in Senku’s eyes when he was ten billion percent at ease with going crazy.

In fact, he could still remember seeing that look for the first time. After moving in with his grandparents and having to switch schools, making new friends had been difficult, even for someone like Taiju. A few trials and errors later, it was this child prodigy who stuck out the most to him as the best candidate for First Friend.

Eventually Best Friend, too! But that was still a bit later.

Now, while Senku definitely had been the smartest at school, he wasn’t the singular smart kid that existed. Yet somehow, he was also the one who had been least condescending to little Taiju, entertaining questions that the other smart kids had brushed off as dumb. Taiju had followed that head of green hair to the school cafeteria everyday; and while Senku’s sarcastic, snarky remarks weren’t the easiest to deal with at first, it was the sparkle in his eyes when talking about science that served as Taiju’s green flag.

It was the kind of spark that said, Thank you for being here. Thank you for tolerating me. Thank you for being someone with an interest in my passion.

Er, well, that was the gut feeling, at least. He could have very well been wrong.

Good thing he wasn't!

But those questions Taiju used to always ask? They had been dumb. At least, objectively speaking. However, it’s that exact thing that has lead him to his favorite lesson learned from his best friend: he shouldn’t ever feel inferior because there were things he couldn’t do and things he didn’t know.

Obviously, he wasn’t ever told this point-blank—it did take a lot of brain power to read between the lines. But he’d seen Senku recognize, even praise, seemingly small things all the time.

Taiju had even asked about it once, while they were on the way home from school. In response, Senku only raised an eyebrow, pointing to a giant flatscreen TV mounted to the tall building across the street, displaying a flashing ad for a new curry product.

“You think that thing would work if one itty bitty wire was connected wrong?” he deadpanned. “Small components look small in the bigger picture, but if it wasn’t there in the first place, there wouldn’t be a bigger picture.”

“You’re…” Taiju said, eyes going wide as he gasped. ��Woah, you’re right, Senku!”

The conclusion in his head: working together yielded better results and bigger accomplishments. And working together? That was something they did a lot of.

Even though he befriended the biggest nerd he had ever met in his life (affectionate), nothing could have ever prepared Taiju for the kinds of things he’d be pulled into. Granted, they were interesting and exciting and unheard of anywhere else, and they made Senku happy. If you asked him, Taiju would call science Senku’s kind of love. His proof: the kinds of conversations they had after a long day.

Just… trust him on this one.

“Senku, do you ever feel bad after having to throw out a failed experiment?” he had once asked randomly, frowning at the bin of scraps in his arms. “It just… kinda feels like a waste.”

Senku glanced over his shoulder. “Huh? Oh, well, a bit, I guess.” He sat up straight, momentarily putting a pause on their clean-up. “It’s not like I don’t know from the start that those things have an expiry date to ‘em. Even if they do work, there’s always a better version of a prototype to be made. You just gotta move on to the next project. It’s only natural.

“Though, you do have a point, Big Oaf,” he continued with a smirk. “Experiments on the level that we do them are both expensive and time-consuming. Not just on my part, but on whoever’s getting the equipment in the first place.”

“So, Byakuya-san?”

“In this case, yeah. Even if he does work at JAXA and everything, acquiring all this stuff is far from easy. Why do you think I’m extra careful when we handle the tools? Gotta put off the inevitable for as long as possible.”

Taiju stayed silent, not exactly sure of how to add to that, but it seemingly prompted Senku to keep talking.

“Y’know, if someone else had adopted me,” he said, voice suddenly quiet, “I doubt I would’ve been able to pursue science. Not to this degree, at the very least. And if that were the case, I… I don’t know what I would’ve...“

A pained, choked sound came from him, along with a sudden shake of the shoulders that absolutely shattered Taiju’s heart.

In remedy, he slapped his best friend hard on the back, forcing out a strangled cough from his lanky frame.

“Well, it’s a good thing you do have your dad, right?” Taiju hoped his grin was wide enough to make Senku think that his reddened, scrunched up face was completely unnoticeable. “I’ll be sure to text him a big thank you as soon as possible!”

“Okay, yeah, no. Don’t do that,” Senku managed out with a strained chuckle. “He’ll ask a bunch of questions and be super weird about it. Ugly sight.”

So yes, while Taiju could listen and show interest all he tried, he knew Byakuya was the best at using science to make Senku’s heart happy. The other awesome thing? He wasn’t just good at Senku’s kind of love, but he was good at his and Yuzuriha’s kinds of love too!

The amount of times Yuzuriha had come home with a shiny new sewing kit or expensive roll of fabric was… well, endearing, to say the least. To her parents, though, it was almost embarrassing to have their daughter be so spoiled by her best friend’s single father.

Additionally, Taiju didn’t really like ranking moments, with Byakuya or with anybody, but one memory during a sleepover at their house always stuck with him. Especially since it was one of the few times he was home, too.

“Can’t sleep?”

Twelve year-old Taiju had stopped mid-reach for the milk carton in the fridge, turning to the voice’s owner with a sheepish smile. “Kinda… but mostly hungry,” he admitted. Then pouted. “What are you doing awake at one in the morning, Byakuya-san?”

The older man only laughed heartily. “I’ve got some work left to cram. But hey, if you need something, I’m at your service.”

Extremely tempting offer.

“Uhh… cup noodles?” Taiju suggested eventually, mostly as a question. “If that’s—“

“More than fine!” Byakuya grinned, already weaving past him to get the the cupboard where their kettle was tucked in. “I’ll start boiling water, yeah? You can pick from the flavors we have in the pantry.”

“Really? That’s awesome, thank you, Byakuya-san! Thank you!”

It had really hurt when Senku first told him what must have happened after the petrification.

But Taiju was thankful every single day to know that, despite their loss, the three of them weren’t alone in the new world. They had all these new friends—and they had each other. He found it kind of difficult to admit, surprisingly, since saying it like that made it sound too obvious. Taiju’s style was more… unfiltered, raw, and required less thinking. So sometimes, just sometimes, it made him wonder if he should be trying harder.

Then he had heard his best friends talking from outside Senku’s workshop one day. And oh, he truly, from the bottom of his heart, didn’t want to invade their privacy, but he heard his name and just—

“Taiju-kun… he gives the best hugs, don’t you think, Senku-kun?”

“Sure, if you consider soul and bone crushing to be the criteria of a good hug.”

For a moment, they were silent. Taiju was about to consider the conversation over, but Senku spoke again:

“Ugh, don’t give me that face. Yes, I consider it a damn good hug.”

Oh, how hard it had been to hold in the tears.

He couldn’t craft meaningful, detailed gifts out of nothing like Yuzuriha, nor think ten billion and a half steps ahead to ensure his loved ones’ happiness like Senku, but Taiju could be himself. He was free to love the way he knew how to, and that “little” thing was more than enough.

So yes, Taiju knew very well that he was loved—but he also knew that he would never get tired of loving in return.

what he didn’t know

Every week, Chrome walked into a progress meeting with the other renowned leaders of the Kingdom of Science at their makeshift headquarters; and every time, he’d get imposter syndrome because of it.

Four experts in their own respective fields, equipped with the knowledge and experience of the old world that he’d simply never have—it was terribly difficult for Chrome to be confident in his knowledge when he knew it was lacking.

But while that was true, it wasn’t in the way he thought.

See, Chrome had noticed a lot of things across the course of these meetings. For instance, on days that Senku would be questioned for being so blatantly in a rush, his offhanded responses were surprisingly telling: “Yuzuriha’s fabrics need to be replenished before tomorrow. Nobody else knows how she likes them made or which ones she uses the most of.”

Another example, clear in intent as ever, despite it having been said with a scowl: “The quality of old man Kaseki’s tools starts going to hell after a certain amount of time. I gotta pay him a visit.”

What Chrome had discovered? Senku was even worse at hiding his feelings than he thought.

So much so that he’d turn it into an argument, actually. Not that he was mad at Ukyo that one time, but he, um... surely could’ve phrased it better.

“We’ll get somebody else to take over the classes. It’s that simple.”

“What? No,” Ukyo had insisted that day, eyes wide. “Senku, it’s okay, I want to do this. We don’t need to trouble someone else with managing the school. I’ll balance the new assignment and the kids’ classes.”

“And compromise your health in the process?” Senku immediately shot back. “We don’t need you and your efficiency going down the drain, dumbass.”

“Now, Senku-chan—“ Gen began, but Senku held up a hand.

“Ukyo, there are things I’d rather only trust you with. I don’t need you losing sleep over grading papers. You think that Lioness Kohaku could mark out every important part of a map by herself?”

“She wouldn’t be happy to hear that," Chrome murmured, getting a chuckle out of Ryusui.

Eventually, Senku sighed, picking at his ear with a pinky. “Though… it would be a big hassle for those kids to adjust to someone completely new. ‘Specially if that person won’t spoil them as much as you do.”

“A compromise, then,” Ukyo said, allowing himself a small smile. “What do you suggest?”

“We assign Ruri to half the classes, she’s already well-taught. You have more time for the new job and still get to keep playing Sensei. We’re all happy. Deal?”

A beat.

“Deal.”

What Chrome had discovered? Two people could both be acting unselfishly and still not see eye-to-eye on the little details.

Ah, yes, the little details. Things like the heaviness in Chrome’s eyes that he always tried to hide in the mornings following a late night. But he supposed some people were just gifted at noticing those things.

Sometimes one look was all it took to cue Ukyo into serving up a glass of water without so much as a word. The first few times caught Chrome off guard—he was only a second or two through the door, and bam, there it was. Interestingly enough, Ukyo did it in a way that was near automatic, like he’d already tended to someone burnt by exhaustion a million times before. Chrome had even caught him humming a quiet tune to himself as he poured out drinks for those who hadn’t arrived yet. And if things had been particularly bad lately, the water would be replaced by a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, if you want to talk about anything…”

And while Ukyo rarely finished that sentence, his face said it all: I’m here to listen.

What Chrome had discovered? It might’ve been nice to grow up with an older brother figure. He’d definitely have to ask Ginro about that.

Not everyone quite had that unique breed of sixth sense-like caring instinct, after all. Even fewer would be willing to listen to rants of other people’s problems in general—kinda like what Gen does for a living. But at the same time, he wasn't the only person who knew how to do that.

“Can you believe she actually did that?”

Chrome was a weak and simple man, he had realized that day, because eavesdropping on what was surely gossip had been an alarmingly easy decision.

Peaking through the windows had revealed Gen, the voice's owner, sitting at the meeting room’s center table, head propped up on his fist.

“Really, even I wouldn’t go that far just to be petty,” he lamented, the slice of bread in his free hand flopping unceremoniously. “The disputes only get stupider by the day.”

A ring of laughter lead Chrome to find Ukyo digging through the ice box in the corner.

“Well, what he said did breach a touchy subject,” he said, fetching out two fresh bottles of cola. “You can’t completely blame her, y’know? People don’t think straight when they’re in that kind of headspace.”

“I know, I know. But come on, who just does something so… immature?”

Unfortunately, the sound of Senku’s footsteps cut that spying session short, but it did comfort Chrome to finally see Gen on the ranting side of that kind of situation.

Speaking of, another thing Chrome noticed: the mentalist was never first to arrive, but almost always second. For what possible reason? He could never guess. But the fact had held true.

Moreover, the select few times that Chrome came early gave way to some of the most baffling (yet also most therapeutic, somehow) interactions he’d ever had with Gen. For starters, sitting quietly with someone usually so chatty usually meant something was wrong. However, getting slices of a side of him that was so relaxed and not all over the place was… well, really reassuring. A few times, he even humored Chrome with a couple “cutesy, harmless” magic tricks, as he called them, like making pencils disappear or chairs float for a whole five seconds.

Somehow, Chrome could tell that doing them made him really happy.

Once, Gen had asked, “How’s the day been treating you so far, Chrome-chan?”

“Is this a trick question?” Chrome asked back with a dubious pout. “Are you gonna like… ask a favor?”

At this, an awfully authentic laugh tumbled past Gen’s lips—a near snort that melted into a soft chuckle, and the grin that followed lacked the underlying malice Chrome was so used to. “I mean it. No ulterior motive this time, promise. Can’t I make meaningless small talk for once in my life?”

“I—no—I mean, of course you can,” Chrome said, sitting up straighter in his seat. “My morning was, uh… not bad, actually, thanks. You?”

“That’s good to hear.” Gen nodded to himself, mindlessly folding the scrap of paper he found on the table. “Mine was kinda slow, honestly… Oh! But I did catch Taiju-chan out on the farm. It’s endearing to see him work.”

Unconsciously, Chrome smiled. Huh. Cool.

What he had discovered? He actually quite liked this utterly natural, normal Gen. Maybe almost as much as dramatic, multi-faceted Gen.

Granted, the latter Gen still often made jokes about how Chrome and Senku were to join him in hell someday.

“Okay." Senku had nodded approvingly. "You two can go ahead. I’ll only need Gen and Chrome for this last one.”

“Best we be careful, Senku-chan,” Gen said in complete mock-seriousness. “Who knows what demon we might summon when left unsupervised?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Senku smirked, waving a hand. “Even if we do, I’m sure we could handle it. I’d bet ten billion points that even yokai aren’t immune to sodium hydroxide, given the right dosage.”

Chrome made a face. “And here I was thinking we didn’t want to summon one.”

“There’s a story behind that,” Rysui said, eyes narrowed as they headed for the door. “At this point I’m certain. Definitely want to know what the hell it is.”

“Maybe another time,” Ukyo chuckled. “Anyway, you said you wanted me to come taste Francois’ new recipes?”

“Yeah! Come on, I’m sure they’re already waiting.”

That was something Ryusui did a lot—no, not ask for the details of their dreadful inside joke—invite someone to join him to do something after the meeting. And by something, it really was anything.

If it wasn’t stuffing fresh bread onto Ukyo’s plate, it was stringing Gen along to help him get on the good side of the other Ishigami villagers. Honestly, Chrome himself couldn’t even count how many times he’d come along to take the hot air balloon for another spin, just so Ryusui could “commit the terrain to memory.”

And really, when Chrome’s pride and reputation as “the explorer who knew the native lands best” was on the line, he simply couldn’t turn down invitations like that.

What he had discovered from all that? It was quite easy for Ryusui to get carried away.

Exhibit A: Once, he and Senku had been left alone to talk ship-building logistics; except when the others came back from a break, the two were suddenly debating who had the better childhood Pokémon game. Go figure.

Exhibit B: Chrome could vividly remember this one very specific day when Ryusui had been going around making arm wrestling bets—again, go figure. As expected, he hadn't let them leave the meeting room without taking him on. Now, while String Bean Senku’s loss surprised absolutely nobody, it was revealed that Ryusui was pretty good.

Until they found out that Ukyo was better.

And then suddenly Ryusui was dragging him outside so he could bet on his games, and then suddenly a bunch of people were making a commotion, and then suddenly the cash started racking up, and then the next thing they knew, Magma had lost to Ukyo.

And, well, everybody lost their shit.

Clicking his tongue, Senku had grinned appraisingly at the aftermath. “Maybe we shouldn’t be so surprised,” he mused, watching Yo point and laugh at Magma. “That bow of yours is heavy, after all. Draw weight isn’t less than eighteen kilos, yeah?”

“Give or take.” Ukyo smiled sheepishly, wriggling his fingers experimentally. “Guess I just forget most of the time. Anyway, it’s not like my seniors in the military didn’t used to drag me into stuff like this all the time.”

Chrome blinked. “Dude, if I could beat Magma head-on, I wouldn’t let the whole village forget.”

“Though, results aside,” Gen said, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on the wad of Dragos in Ryusui’s distant hand, “maybe we should try holding our own… fundraiser.”

“Something just as simple yet effective,” Senku said. “You can rig a coin flip, right?”

“…Frankly, Senku-chan, I wouldn’t count on people trusting a fair flip with me involved. And in any other case, have you forgotten that your luck is literal trash?”

“Fair point.”

Those were just instances from the top of Chrome’s head.

Though, in no way whatsoever did these events, nor the discoveries drawn from them, leave a bad taste in his mouth. In all honesty, looking back served to remind him of when Nikki had told him about the concept of friendship bracelets.

He had seriously considered it—even sat in his room with extra materials, tried conceptualizing designs. But it dawned on him that maybe it was… just a bit too cheesy. Senku didn’t seem like a jewelry person anyway, and Ryusui was sure to already have a bunch of bracelets for whatever reason…

Yeah, maybe not as good of an idea as he initially thought.

Anyhow, Chrome was sure that the sentiment itself of these shared experiences was more than enough of a gift. And since he had the eye and memory for every one of these things, who was he to complain about not feeling smart enough when piecing them together forged such a home-like feeling?

Then again, his knowledge was lacking—not necessarily in the sense of facts, but about the situation; in the old world, a room full of people labeled "coworkers" would rarely be bonded by a sense of home, of all things—this was something only the other generals knew.

But was it a crime that that wasn’t their case? Was it so bad that instead of civil handshakes and nods, each meeting ended with some wildly fond new memory together?

Not at all.

So maybe it was for the best, the other four had already decided in unspoken agreement, that Chrome didn’t know. Especially since when it came to this, somebody like him deserved far better than what the old world had offered.

what she had

Ruri had spent a lot of her time grieving what she had lost to her many years bedridden.

She knew it would be awful to dwell on it too much, but… well, it truly was her biggest regret. Everything she had done as priestess of her village—the people who she considered extended family—would have amounted to nothing if she simply didn’t get to spend enough time alongside them, as selfish as it may sound. Of course, that wasn’t a problem anymore, and thankfully so.

Still, who wouldn’t be tempted to contemplate what could have been—what she could've lived through in those years lost?

But that kind of thinking had begun to change at a certain point.

Ruri wasn’t sure what was so special about that day, if it was even so special at all. That was the beauty if it, she supposed; nothing else had stood out, so she herself was able to pick out what seemed special.

“Woah, you’re manning the food stalls yourself, Suika? That’s so responsible of you!”

That voice had been Titan’s, who had been about to buy ramen. Meanwhile, Ruri just happened to be close enough to notice the way Suika bristled in surprise, trying to stand a bit straighter.

“I—well,” she had stammered, “Mirai actually helps me, she’s just taking a break right now. Do you, uh… really think so?”

Before Titan could answer, Namari chimed in, peeping out from behind him. “Oh, totally! You’re super cool for helping out so much, Suika.”

Suddenly, everyone within a ten-meter radius was pitching in their own pieces of praise; from underneath her helmet, Suika only seemed to beam brighter and brighter with each one.

“Time flies so fast! Wasn’t she a little girl just yesterday?”

“So proud of that kid.”

“Really wish I could be as much of a help as her.”

“I taught her how to use the cotton candy machine, she’s a total pro!”

“The pride of our village, isn’t she?”

Ruri giggled quietly, finding herself agreeing with everyone’s sentiments. While Suika was certainly a diligent worker, Ruri knew just how sweet she was generally.

Once, while weaving baskets together, the former had decided to pass time by playing a game where they listed off things they loved about each other. It had warmed Ruri’s heart to hear her thoughts, and the reactions to the compliments aimed at her in return had been absolutely adorable.

Even so, Ruri knew her closeness with Suika was rivaled by that of Kohaku, who was fiercely protective of the girl—and had been from the very beginning. With so many of Suika's relatives having been taken by the previous famine, it hadn't at all been a difficult choice to take her as part of their family.

And that lead Ruri to her sister.

Her irreplaceable, dearest little sister; though she could hardly call her little anymore. Ruri took every chance she could to hug her tight, to warmly wrap her up in ways words couldn’t. All for the girl who has never, not once, not ever, even thought of giving up on her older sister, and who never failed to let go of that embrace without first uttering a most honest “I love you.”

The same girl who went about their community with the kind of familiarity and deep-rooted devotion only the empowered daughters of the chief had. (Well, previous chief.) Kohaku also spent lots of time with the village children, often teaching them how to protect themselves or watching over them when they played in the fields or by the river. And if not with them, she was almost definitely checking up on the village’s defenses.

Once, Ruri had overheard her suddenly ask Kinro about how his vision was doing, as well as how adjusting to glasses had been like and a bunch of other related things. Someone with her 20/20 sight wouldn’t have any idea, after all. That conversation had ended with them agreeing that it was stupid he had to struggle with his fuzzy sickness for so long at all, yet both extremely grateful that the glasses were here now. Ruri had to admit that it was pretty funny.

And, really, that did lead her to Kinro.

Steadfast, persistent Kinro, who not only accomplished everything he was assigned to, but had so much initiative as to pick up on the kinds of chores and tasks anybody else was either too tired or too lazy to do. If it was a requirement to making things easier for everyone else, he’d deliver. No further questions asked. And that was on top of having to keep his brother out of trouble.

Mostly, Ruri just hoped he’d catch a well-deserved break. What would they do without him?

Inevitably, that lead her to Ginro, who was seen with his brother almost two-thirds of the time.

She knew just how close they were. A lot of times, the situation truly did make it feel like siblings only had each other to rely on. It was evident in Ginro’s restless eyes whenever he had reason to panic, or when something truly disheartened him—they’d always go searching for Kinro, flicking back and forth among the crowd before landing on that brunet head of hair.

However, whenever Ginro was in the spirits to goof off, there were notably few people who could actually make him pick up slack. That is, which didn’t involve blunt guilt-tripping—e.g. Kohaku—or forcibly leaving him with no choice—e.g. Senku.

Grandpa Kaseki was one of them.

Because while Gen was his favorite to drag into impromptu projects, Ginro was close in second. And what was most interesting? Ruri had noticed that he didn’t slither out of those situations as often as expected.

“So, you don’t mind all too much when he does that?” she had teasingly asked him once.

“Eh, well.” Ginro didn’t meet her eyes, fiddling with his fingers. “The stuff he asks me to do isn't that bad. Usually. It’s… sometimes, it’s kinda fun, plus…”

Ruri smiled, already knowing where this was going. “Plus?”

His next words were mumbled out almost begrudgingly: “I actually like spending time with him.”

Which lead Ruri to everyone’s favorite ojii-chan in question.

Even though he did take every chance to fawn over Yuzuriha’s contemporary craftsmanship or pester Senku for something new to try and build, he was still a senior Ishigami villager through and through. The indication that he hadn’t forgotten? Ruri would catch him going door-to-door in his free time, asking the other elderly if they’d like him to make anything for them while he still could.

“Maybe something new and cool, like what the kids like,” she even distinctly remembered him say at one point.

It made her wonder what it must be like to still have so much love to give at that age. Like say, enough so that Kaseki would go out of his way to invite Chrome to eat with him whenever they took a break from a project of theirs.

Ah, right. And that lead Ruri to Chrome.

Their humble, starry-eyed Chrome was far busier now than before—and with quite heavy tasks that had a lot of people counting on him, too. But she knew it was everything he’d ever dreamed of—getting far with his own knowledge and the work of his own hands, standing alongside others who were just as capable.

“He’s grown so much,” Ruri had said once, as they watched him coordinate with an officer at the mines for materials to be shipped back to base. “I’m really just… so happy for him.”

Kohaku smirked, crossing her arms. “I could say the exact same thing and still not capture the same awestruck reverence that you—ow.”

Her sister deserved that hit in the shoulder, a blushing Ruri quickly concluded.

Chrome was busier than before, yes, but not so busy that he had forgotten those closest to him from childhood. After all, Ruri would still find an array of intricately-shaped leaves, delicate flowers, or glittery polished rocks at her window sill every once in a while. What was new, however, were the small pieces of paper attached to them; if she hadn’t been taught to read, she would’ve missed the innocently sweet “Reminded me of you!!” notes that always came written on it.

See, he’d even grown so much that Garnet even caught him and Magma coming back together from a personal mining trip. Peacefully. No bickering, just normal chatter. Not even a Senku to mediate. A part of Ruri still didn’t believe it ever happened.

But really. Recent developments have helped reveal a side to all her loved ones that hadn’t quite fully bloomed before.

There was even a prime example in Ruri’s own experience: even when Turquoise and Jasper didn’t need to be at her side 24/7 anymore, she still enjoyed going through the mundane parts of her day with them nearby. It had taken some time for them to adjust to not being on-edge at her every step, but it easily became apparent just how much they also loved seeing their charge sprightly and well.

In fact, everybody from the village now knew how to work at least one machine or create at least one helpful substance. Ruri often saw them giving each other discounts at food stalls and cracking jokes when asked to make something as a favor. Besides the obvious way science had improved their lives as individuals, it had somehow brought the village even closer together.

Though, what truly sealed it for her were the photos.

Helping Minami collate and arrange them, even just for a while, it had become strikingly apparent that everybody was happier than ever, helping each other and trying new things everyday. Every captured smile or laugh was shared; if not with a fellow villager, then with a non-primitive Kingdom of Science member. Even if Ruri tried to think of only a single person, she ended up remembering all of them and the pleasant memories tied to each.

Upon seeing the way her eyes flowed from one picture to the next on the collage board, Minami had giggled. “Cool, isn’t it? Visual composition naturally leads you from one person to the next. Then the next, then the next, and so on.”

“It’s us,” Ruri responded in a delicate whisper. “Our time together. It… connects us all.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

So when Ruri looked around her today, she could rest easy knowing what she knew—what she had lost was nothing compared to what she had now, and for that, she’d continue to be eternally grateful.

what he didn't have

If Ryusui could buy all the time in the world, he already would have a long time ago. But he couldn't—he learned so early on.

However, that wasn’t the issue; it was already ingrained into his system that if he wanted something, he’d stop at nothing to get it. So if Ryusui wanted someone’s time, you’d be a fool to think that he wouldn’t be ready to work for it.

No, the real issue was that sometimes, certain people simply didn’t want to share their time.

And for a painfully long amount of time, Ryusui had wondered if it was a “him” problem. He swore he wouldn’t ever feel the need change himself for anybody, but, well… his big brother wasn’t just anybody.

Then there was also Francois, who was living proof that the problem wasn’t Ryusui’s. Not entirely, at least.

Francois, who had patched up cuts and scratches on such an energetic, curious kid so often that they just knew carrying a first aid kit around was a necessity. Francois, who had always tucked a handful of hair ties in their pocket after a certain junior high schooler decided it’d be cool to grow out his hair. Francois, who had gotten so used to shopping with this big spender that “I desire that you get something for yourself!” didn’t faze them anymore, and in fact, would be quickly met with “As you wish, Master Ryusui.”

With only this one person who he could always turn to, young Ryusui had made sure that Francois only got the grandest gifts. Whether it was their birthday, New Year’s, Christmas, even an ordinary day—it had to be lush and flashy and expensive. A diamond-encrusted stopwatch from America. A 162 by 130 centimeter painting from an artist he forgot the name of. A handbag from a luxury brand with Francois' name sewn in with gold thread.

But as Ryusui grew older, those gifts had begun to feel hollow.

So over the years, they got less expensive. And it wasn’t like he was actively trying to save money when gift shopping, either; the ones that felt more heartfelt simply happened to be less flashy, instead more practical and thoughtful. A foreign cuisine cookbook. Scented candles for their room. A new pair of gloves.

One year, the gifts had completely stopped coming.

This hadn't disheartened Francois in the slightest—really, it had made their heart swell to see just how far their little boy had matured. Because instead of the gifts, Ryusui simply dedicated his time. They spent entire days together on a normal basis, sure, but how much of that was actual quality time?

Francois was aware that the term had multiple definitions to different people, but they could definitively tell when Ryusui was consciously, actively making sure that their time together was of the utmost quality. And it gave them such a priceless kind of joy.

Needless to say, Ryusui was happy. They were both more than happy with where their relationship stood; by today, most of it quite literally boiled down to numerous silent understandings.

So it just couldn’t be a “him” problem, right? Not when the effort he put into forging that familial bond with Francois became something he was so proud of.

If Sai would just let him in, Ryusui would often think, he’d definitely be able to win over his affection.

At one point, it had troubled him so much that he straight-up asked Francois about it.

“To my understanding,” they had said, gently setting the cup of fresh tea on the table in front of him, “your desire is not to force him into anything. As is expected, of course. I know well that you would hate to serve to harm anyone, Master Ryusui. Especially since, in this case, this is someone you admire and respect so deeply.”

Elbows propped against his knees, Ryusui stared solemnly at the floor as he mumbled in agreement.

“If I may be so bold as to suggest," Francois added, "perhaps it is best to respect Master Sai’s wishes. By all means, there is no harm in continuing to try, but I believe it would make him comfortable to step back once he is firm to say no.”

With a sigh, Ryusui leaned back into the couch. “Right. I understand.” He then flashed Francois a playful grin. “And here I was thinking you’d be completely on my side, eh, Francois?”

They smiled. “I must admit, both you brothers not only have my loyalty, but also my heart’s affection.”

Ryusui stood suddenly.

“Ah, I deeply apologize if I overstepped any bounda—“

“Thank you,” is all he said, silently squeezing them in a tight embrace.

And indeed, Ryusui wasn’t the only brother they had always looked out for.

Part of Francois’ dynamic skillset as a professional chef was having variations to every single dish they knew how to prepare. Typically, there was the one most liked by the general public, as well as “Ryusui’s version,” but they had also gone out of their way to mentally establish a “Sai’s version.”

They had always known that he was far too timid to ever speak up about how he’d like a certain food to be prepared—especially when the entire family hierarchy existed to tell him that his opinion was void. Instead, it had involved a lot of carefully reading his expressions during multi-course meals with a variety of dishes. After a while, it got easier; and nothing had made Francois happier than to see another satisfied customer at their hands.

So naturally, Ryusui hadn't been the only disheartened one when Sai moved to India.

Distance, however, was not something Francois considered consequential enough to hinder a butler’s duties. After getting in touch with his university, they had been able to check up on him via text. Francois had figured it would be good to remind him that he was still cared for back home, but not overdo it to the point of being overbearing. Judging by his friendly replies, thankfully, they appeared to have done a good job.

Though, as much of a success that was, it had still been sad to see their charge have to grow up without an older brother.

The ideal, reliable, present older brother—a lot of people dreamed of that, right?

Because really, for someone who seemed so full of himself—and to an extent, actually was—Ryusui truly enjoyed having somebody to look up to. And it wasn’t even primarily about Sai’s breadth of knowledge or finesse of talent; no, that was a mere bonus, even in his greedy eyes. Ryusui was far too fixated on simply having someone of his own blood to lean on.

But that was something Sai had only realized years down the line, thanks to a bit of help.

He told himself it was because their situation had already framed it badly enough. That Ryusui’s unapologetic personality hadn't helped either of them. That it was just some horrible coincidence that him being disgustingly efficient at mental math overlapped with Ryusui wanting him to do math for his passion projects. That—

Ugh, who was he kidding?

The truth clear to Sai now was that his little brother didn’t care what the hell they were doing, as long as they were doing it with each other.

It was so damn obvious in hindsight. Sai hated himself for being the cause of such a pitiful truth to come to fruition—if his brother was so desperately starved of any and all interaction, whose fault was that?

“Sai!” The voice’s owner had stepped into his room after knocking only once. “You free? There’s something awesome I want you to see!”

Perhaps what made it worse was that Ryusui didn’t seem to hold any grudge at all.

Sai had gone rigid from his spot at the desk. “Ryusui—“

Next time, wait for me to answer before coming in, were the words at the tip of his tongue, but he forcefully swallowed them down upon looking up. Somehow, even just a little bit, the stupidly wide grin smeared across his brother’s features made the effort worth it.

Instead, Sai rubbed at his eyes, sighing. “Uh, maybe later? I’m actually pretty tired.”

“That’s totally fine! I’ll come back later, then, yeah?”

“Oh, but I—uh, actually—“ he blurted, making Ryusui halt with one foot out the door. “You can, um…” Sai avoided his eyes, overwhelmed by the mental gymnastics it took to reach for the right words. “You should—you should stay. Let’s talk over some curry? I… I’ve got some spare in the fridge.”

And talk over curry they did.

It had been lightly reminiscent for the most part, both of them trying not to run out of things to say. (You could imagine that was much easier for one than it was for the other.) From the weird, exotic pet that their uncle used to keep in the back garden, to how much faster Ryusui could have leveled up in Mario Brothers if Sai had just taught him, to how they admittedly should’ve played more chess together.

Eventually, it got quiet. Both of them staring at their bowls, the floor, anything but each other. It was the kind of quiet Sai absolutely loathed—unfinished, begging for somebody to just say something. Anything.

So to fill that silence, Sai apologized.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, barely audible. He stuffed another spoonful of rice into his mouth, hoping it’d stuff any remnants of his shame with it as he continued. “I was never a good brother. I know a bunch of things made me unhappy back then, but I shouldn’t have acted like you were part of the problem.

“Sorry that I’m… I should’ve said goodbye, but I—well, I didn’t.” He chuckled bitterly. “Guess it, like… I dunno, got that bad? I just… I was so scared of what they would’ve done with me, with my life. I’m not like you, Ryu. I never could’ve slithered into the ranks the way y—“

“The Nanami name is my own brand now,” Ryusui said, a-matter-of-factly. “Maybe thousands of years ago, it wasn’t completely mine, but without all the complicated stuff in the way anymore, it sure is now!” he laughed, and for a moment, the devilish little brother was back, but it quickly faded.

“Sai,” he continued, hard gaze locked onto his brother, “I want you to be able to do the same. To make your own name for yourself. It doesn’t even have to be with our last name—hell, Sai sounds cool enough to use for a video game name. Or whatever it is that sounds fun to you. As long as you want it, ‘kay? I know it’s tough to have someone want something from you if it’s all people have ever done, but I want what you want.”

Ryusui couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t been hurt. That was okay. He didn’t need to.

“Regardless of what happened in the past,” he said, “what I want is you to be happy.”

Blinking rapidly, Sai vainly wished that his pricking tears had been from the spice instead.

“I… I’ll try.”

To his whole heart’s relief, his brother didn’t comment, despite the fact that he surely noticed.

Instead, Ryusui licked his lips, back to contemplating the dish at hand. “Man. I still think Francois’ cooking is always above perfect,” he started, “but for some reason, my food has always tasted better than yours. They’re cooked differently, am I wrong?”

“Really?” Sai snorted, swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. “Well, good. You always liked your flavors way too strong anyway.”

“Wouldn’t change a thing!”

And it was true—not about his taste palette, nor about his brother.

Because for years, Ryusui didn't have Sai’s time, but who would he be if he thought that it was ever too late to make up for it?

#this was so unsolicitedly fluffy i kinda hate myself #also there's no way i'm tagging Everybody in this #that's ten too many people #dcst #dcst fanfic #dr stone #dr. stone #dr stone manga #dcst fluff #dr stone characters #dr. stone fanfic #🍃.scribbles #💫.fnfcs

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