𝔸𝕝𝕖𝕩𝕚𝕤

Nobody knew what to call whatever existed between you and Kyouka Nijiku.

Not even the two of you.

You weren't lovers.

The idea would've made both of you immediately deny it.

But friends? That wasn't right either.

Friends didn't stare at one another across rooms with enough tension to make everyone nearby uncomfortable.

Friends didn't seek each other out after every mission just to argue.

Friends didn't remember exactly how the other took their tea.

The truth sat somewhere in the middle.

Undefined.

Uncomfortable.

Dangerously important.

You were a Cleaner, Kyouka was Hell Guard.

That fact alone was enough to start most of your arguments.

The first few had been harmless.

Differences in procedure.

Differences in priorities.

The sort of disagreements that naturally happened when two organizations worked toward the same goal through entirely different methods.

But over time, Kyouka developed a habit. A frustrating habit. Every conversation somehow circled back to the same topic.

"You should join the Hell Guard."

At first you'd laughed.

Then you ignored it.

Then you started expecting it.

Now it just irritated you.

The suggestion came often enough that some people had begun placing bets on how long it would take her to bring it up whenever the two of you were together.

Sometimes, she lasted ten minutes. Sometimes five. One memorable occasion lasted less than thirty seconds.

You'd walked into a room.

She'd looked up.

And immediately said it.

"Join the Hell Guard." As if she'd been waiting all day.

You never understood why she was so determined.

There were plenty of capable people among the Cleaners.

Plenty of fighters, and plenty of individuals worthy of recruitment.

Yet Kyouka seemed fixated on you specifically. It would've been flattering if it wasn't so infuriating.

"You're wasting your talents." That was one of her favorites.

Another was: "You'd have more opportunities."

And then there was: "You'd be safer."

That one always made you laugh.

Safer.

As if becoming Hell Guard suddenly made someone immortal.

As if danger magically disappeared because you wore a different uniform.

Every time she brought it up, you shut her down.

Every time.

And every time she tried again.

The stubbornness would've been impressive if it wasn't directed at you.

The argument that finally broke things apart started like every other one.

With a simple conversation.

The two of you had crossed paths after a long day.

Both exhausted, both irritable, both already in bad moods.

A dangerous combination— You should've walked away immediately.

Instead, you stayed.

And Kyouka made the mistake of bringing it up again.

"You should transfer."

You didn't even look at her. "No."

Her expression immediately darkened.

The response had become automatic.

She could practically hear it before you said it.

"You didn't even think about it."

"I've thought about it every time you've asked."

"Then your answer should've changed by now."

You rolled your eyes. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"The reason I don't listen to you."

Her eyebrows lowered. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"You don't ask me things," You finally looked at her,

"You decide." The air between you immediately became heavier. "You've already decided what's best for me."

"Because it's obvious."

"No it isn't."

"It is."

"No, Kyouka." Your voice sharpened, "No, it isn't."

People nearby had started leaving.

Neither of you noticed– or cared for that matter.

Kyouka crossed her arms.

"You spend your days hunting Trash Beasts."

"I'm a Cleaner."

"You constantly throw yourself into dangerous situations."

"I'm a Cleaner."

"You nearly died three weeks ago."

"I'm still alive."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

Her jaw tightened.

The answer sat right there, close enough to reach.

But she didn't say it.

Instead she fell back on the same argument she'd always used.

"The Hell Guard would make better use of you."

You laughed though it was a short humorless sound. "There it is."

"What?"

"You keep talking about what's useful." The irritation you'd been carrying for months finally surfaced. "You ever stop to think maybe I don't want what you want? You don't know what I want."

"Then tell me."

The words came out harder than intended.

The moment they left your mouth, something shifted.

Kyouka froze, though only briefly it was long enough for you to notice.

Tell me– what simple words.

Yet neither of you seemed capable of answering them.

The silence stretched.

Then shattered.

"You have a future."

You blinked. "What?"

"You have a future." Her voice was firm. "You shouldn't throw it away."

The anger inside you cooled slightly, instead replaced by confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No I dont."

"You take unnecessary risks."

"I do my job."

"You make reckless decisions."

"I do my job."

"You'll get yourself killed."

The words landed like a slap.

For a second neither of you moved, then something ugly twisted in your chest.

Because she sounded afraid.

Not annoyed.

Not angry.

Afraid.

And somehow that made everything worse.

You laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because you didn't know what else to do.

"You're unbelievable."

Kyouka's expression darkened.

"And you're impossible."

"Maybe." You stepped back. "But at least I don't spend every conversation trying to change who you are."

The words hit harder than intended.

You saw it happen, that tiny flicker. A tiny crack in her composure before she buried it.

But it had been there.

For just a second.

And suddenly you couldn't stay.

The argument felt too personal.

Too raw.

Too close to something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

So you turned, and you walked away.

Kyouka called your name.

You ignored her.

She called it again.

You kept walking.

The last thing you heard before disappearing around the corner was her voice.

Frustrated, angry, and worried.

And for the first time, you didn't turn back.

The further you walked, the worse your mood became.

You replayed the conversation over and over.

Every word.

Every look.

Every pause.

The things said.

The things left unsaid.

You hated it.

Hated how easily she got under your skin.

Hated how much her opinion mattered.

Most of all, you hated that she'd sounded genuinely scared.

Because if you thought about that too long, you'd start asking questions.

Questions neither of you seemed willing to answer.

So instead, you did what you always did when frustration became unbearable.

You looked for something to hit.

A mission would've been ideal. Unfortunately, Semiu said there weren't any nearby.

So your feet carried you elsewhere.

Toward the outskirts.

Toward the abandoned regions.

Toward danger.

Toward the place everyone knew to avoid.

No Man's Land.

The boundary appeared gradually.

The landscape changed.

The atmosphere shifted.

The feeling of wrongness grew heavier with every step.

Normal people avoided these regions entirely.

Even experienced fighters approached them carefully.

The polluted zones housed stronger Trash Beasts and greater risks.

Everyone knew that. You knew that.

But anger had a way of making people stupid.

And you were very angry.

"Just one." You said it aloud, as if hearing it made the decision smarter.

It didn't.

The first Trash Beast died quickly.

The second took slightly longer.

The third actually managed to injure you.

By then, common sense should've prevailed.

You should've turned around. Gone home. Gotten some sleep. Forgotten the argument.

Instead, like a fool, you kept moving deeper.

Further.

Further.

Further.

Until the realization finally hit.

You'd gone too far.

The silence changed first.

Then the air.

Then the feeling.

Something massive was nearby.

Your instincts screamed.

Every survival lesson you'd ever learned screamed.

Leave now.

Unfortunately, realization came too late.

The creature emerged from the haze, far larger than anything you'd expected to encounter alone.

For a brief moment, everything stopped.

The world.

Your breathing.

Your thoughts.

Then the Trash Beast moved.

And the fight began.

Nobody witnessed what happened.

Nobody survived to report it.

Nobody knew exactly how long you fought.

Only the aftermath remained.

The destruction.

The ruined terrain.

The blood.

The evidence of a battle that had ended badly. Very badly.

You fought.

You survived.

You pushed yourself further than you should've.

But eventually strength ran out as it always did.

One mistake became another. One injury became several. And somewhere in that hopeless struggle, the inevitable happened.

The Cleaner who never backed down, the Cleaner Kyouka had spent months trying to drag into a safer position, the Cleaner she'd argued with countless times had died.

You had died all alone in No Man's Land, with people only finding what remained of you days after the fact.

At first, nobody realized you were missing.

Cleaners disappeared for a day or two all the time.

Missions ran long.

Assignments changed.

Schedules shifted.

It happened.

Then one day became two.

Two became three.

Concern slowly replaced assumption.

People started asking questions.

Looking.

Searching.

Kyouka heard about it almost by accident, it was just a passing conversation.

A casual remark.

A missing Cleaner.

Your name.

The moment she heard it, something felt wrong.

You weren't the type to vanish.

You weren't the type to disappear without warning.

She immediately began searching.

Officially, there was no reason. Unofficially, she couldn't stop herself.

She checked headquarters.

Asked questions.

Tracked reports.

Followed every lead she could find.

With each dead end, the feeling in her chest worsened.

By the fourth day, frustration had become worry.

By the fifth day, worry had become fear.

By the sixth, she finally learned where you'd gone– No Man's Land.

The words hit like a physical blow. For a long moment, Kyouka simply stared.

Waiting for someone to correct themselves.

Nobody did.

The silence told her everything.

"No."

The word escaped before she could stop it.

The room went quiet.

No Man's Land.

Alone.

After an argument.

After she'd told you not to throw your life away.

After she'd warned you.

After she'd watched you walk away.

Someone continued speaking, explaining that a cleaners team traveling there for a mission had found you.

Kyouka didn't hear any of it, her thoughts had become a roar.

A desperate refusal.

You couldn't be dead.

You were too stubborn.

Too reckless.

Too difficult.

Too alive.

But reality didn't care what she believed.

The search team found enough evidence.

There was no mistake, and certainly no misunderstanding.

No miracle waiting around the corner.

You were gone.

For the first time in years, Kyouka didn't know what to do.

She stood there in complete silence as the information settled slowly.

The last conversation she'd ever have with you had been an argument.

The last thing she'd done was try to force you into a future you didn't want.

The last thing she'd heard was your footsteps walking away.

And now there would never be another conversation.

Never another argument, never another chance.

Kyouka lowered her head.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

The commander who never bent stood perfectly still.

And for the first time since she'd met you, she had absolutely no idea where to find you.

Because there was nowhere left to look.

The seasons changed after a while.

Life didn't stop simply because someone died.

Kyouka learned that lesson quickly though it was one she hated.

The sun still rose every morning, people still filled the streets, the Hell Guard still had reports to file, criminals to apprehend, duties to fulfill, and the Cleaners still hunted Trash Beasts.

The world continued moving forward with cruel indifference.

And somehow that felt wrong, because you weren't there.

The first few weeks had been the hardest.

Everywhere she looked, there was something that reminded her of you.

A stupid comment someone made.

A chair left empty during a meeting.

A familiar route through the city.

Every reminder arrived unexpectedly, and every reminder hurt.

Kyouka never spoke about it, she wasn't the type. But the people under her command knew something had changed.

They could see it.

She spoke less, didn't bother with people like how she did before, worked longer hours too.

But nobody dared ask why. Not when her gaze had become so distant. Not when she looked tired in ways sleep couldn't fix. Not when she carried grief like armor.

Some wounds weren't meant to be discussed.

So everyone pretended not to notice, and Kyouka pretended she was fine.

Months passed, then more.

The sharp pain dulled.

It became quieter like a constant aching presence she carried everywhere.

It was something she learned to live beside.

Not overcome.

On a cool afternoon, she found herself standing before your grave again.

She visited more often than she'd ever admit.

Always alone, usually in silence.

Today was different.

Today she carried a small wooden tray.

Upon it sat a teapot and two cups.

The tea had been prepared carefully.

A habit she had developed more after your death. You always teased her for preferring tea when conversations stretched too long.

You'd say she's much to formal, and Kyouka had always insisted that made no sense.

You'd laughed at her and sometimes she even found herself laughing alongside you.

Now she found herself remembering that conversation in embarrassing detail.

The memory almost made her smile.

Almost.

The cemetery was quiet.

The wind moved gently through the grass.

Clouds drifted overhead.

Everything felt peaceful.

The sort of peace people searched their entire lives for.

Kyouka hated it, because you never got to see it. You'd spent your life running toward danger. And now the world suddenly wanted to be gentle.

It felt unfair.

She approached your grave slowly.

The stone was familiar, far too familiar.

There had been a time when seeing your name written there made her feel sick.

Now it simply hurt.

She could live with that.

Kyouka lowered herself onto the ground, the movement was careful and measured.

She set the tray beside her, and then poured tea into both cups.

Steam rose from the surface.

Thin white tendrils drifting upward into the afternoon air

For a few moments she simply watched it. Then she reached for the second cup.

The one that wasn't hers.

And placed it carefully atop the gravestone.

Right in front of your name.

The gesture had become tradition.

A pointless tradition.

A foolish tradition.

But one she continued anyway.

"You still owe me for all the tea you've stolen."

Her voice broke the silence. It was soft, the sort of voice nobody else ever heard from her.

Kyouka stared at the cup.

Waiting.

Knowing nothing would happen.

Still waiting.

The silence that followed felt familiar.

Almost comfortable.

"You always said it tasted better when it belonged to someone else."

A faint smile touched her lips.

"You were an idiot."

The smile faded almost immediately.

The cemetery remained quiet.

Only the wind answered.

Kyouka wrapped both hands around her own cup.

The warmth seeped into her fingers.

Not enough.

"I saw a Cleaner the other day. From your team"

Her gaze remained fixed on the gravestone.

"He reminded me of you."

The confession came easier than expected. Perhaps because there was nobody left to hear it.

"He was reckless."

A pause.

"Annoying."

Another pause.

"He argued with everything he was told."

A tiny laugh escaped her.

"I almost arrested him."

The laugh faded.

"I think you would've liked him."

The silence returned.

Kyouka took a sip of tea.

The warmth settled in her chest.

Briefly.

Then disappeared.

The wind shifted, and a few loose leaves drifted across the cemetery.

Kyouka watched them travel.

Then looked back at your name.

The words escaped before she could stop them.

"I miss you." She whispered like a prayer.

The truth rarely needed decoration.

Her grip tightened around the cup. Not enough to break it anymore like before, just enough to remind herself she was still holding something.

Still here.

Still alive.

Unlike you.

The thought hurt.

Even now.

Especially now.

Because time hadn't changed anything.

It had only given her more opportunities to realize how much was missing.

You should've been here.

Arguing with her.

Talking to her.

Existing.

Instead, there was only stone and memory.

Kyouka lowered her eyes.

"I keep expecting to see you." The admission came quietly. "I know it's stupid."

She laughed softly.

"Every time I pass Cleaner headquarters."

Another laugh.

Smaller this time.

"Every time I hear someone yelling."

The smile faded.

"Every time someone does something reckless."

The words slowed.

"I still look."

Her throat tightened.

"And for a second..."

The sentence trailed off.

Because she couldn't finish it.

For a second she forgot.

For a second she expected you to be there.

Then reality returned.

Every time.

Without fail.

The disappointment never became easier.

Kyouka stared at the tea resting atop your gravestone.

Steam still curled from its surface.

But not as much as before.

The warmth was fading.

Slowly and inevitably.

She found herself watching it mesmerized as though the tea represented something important.

Perhaps it did.

The last remnants of warmth.

The final traces of something alive.

Gone little by little.

Until nothing remained.

"You know..." She exhaled quietly. "There was a time when I thought I'd convince you."

The memory surfaced unexpectedly.

Countless arguments.

Countless conversations.

Countless attempts to recruit you.

At the time she'd convinced herself it was practical.

Logical.

Professional.

Now she knew better.

Now there was nobody left to lie to.

"I wasn't trying to recruit you."

Her eyes remained on the gravestone.

The confession emerged in pieces.

Slowly.

Painfully.

"I told myself I was."

A bitter smile appeared.

"But that wasn't it."

The realization had taken months.

Months of sleepless nights.

Months of staring at ceilings.

Months of reliving conversations.

Eventually she'd understood.

She'd wanted you close. That was all.

Not because of your abilities, not because of your potential. Just because you were you.

And she had wanted more time.

More conversations.

More arguments.

More days.

More years.

She swallowed.

Hard.

"I was selfish."

The words sounded strange.

Kyouka rarely admitted fault.

Especially not aloud.

Yet here she was, speaking to a gravestone. Confessing things she'd never managed to say while you were alive.

"I wanted to keep you where I could see you." The wind brushed against her hair, making her appear almost gentle. "I thought if you joined the Hell Guard..."

Her smile became sad.

"...then maybe I'd stop worrying."

The laugh that followed held no amusement.

As though that would've changed anything.

As though she'd ever stop worrying about you.

The thought was absurd.

She would've worried forever.

And now she would never get the chance.

The tea continued cooling.

The steam was almost gone.

Kyouka watched it disappear.

Then she spoke again, this time quieter.

More vulnerable.

"I think about impossible things." A long silence followed "I think about another life."

The words felt ridiculous.

She wasn't someone who believed in fantasies, she never had been.

But grief had a way of creating strange hopes.

Tiny impossible hopes.

The kind people clung to when reality wasn't enough.

Kyouka stared at the horizon.

At the sunlight spilling across the cemetery.

At the peaceful afternoon neither of you had earned.

And she imagined it.

Another world.

Another life.

One where neither of you carried weapons.

One where neither of you wore uniforms.

One where there were no Trash Beasts.

No Hell Guard.

No Cleaners.

No No Man's Land.

No final arguments.

No graves.

Just life.

An ordinary life.

The kind most people ignored, the kind she'd once considered boring.

Now it sounded perfect.

In her mind, she could almost see it.

A small house.

Nothing extravagant.

A kitchen, a table, a window that let sunlight inside, you standing there.

Complaining about something insignificant.

Probably her.

Definitely her.

The thought made her smile.

A real smile this time.

Small.

Fragile.

Beau

I had an atrocious day at work, so y'all gotta suffer with me. Gotta get group bonding in somehow

Taglist: @neluvias , @i-heartdinos , @n4tsukis , @tsillyy

Please DO NOT repurpose my work or feed into AI, I do not own any of my dividers besides my character ones.

GENERAL HEADCANONS:

Senku doesn't really care all too much about spicy food, but he can handle spice really well

He prefers salty/savory foods

In my heart (I'm projecting a little) hes autistic

Xeno has definitely bought Senku some of his science materials before the petrification

Has an amazing immune system but once he gets compromised he's down for a while

He talks to himself while working for sure

Despite popular belief, has an amazing sleep schedule– definitely not a normal one but probably gets 7 hours regardless of when he sleeps

ROMANTIC HEADCANONS:

He shows his love through acts of service 100%

Acts of science?

Isn't the most physically affectionate, but if you initiate it won't decline you

He wouldn't be the one to confess, I feel like he's the "they fell first, he fell harder" trope type of guy

At first when he does like you, you wouldn't even realize he likes you.

You didn't get special treatment

You still did the manual labor he made everyone do

The difference is that somehow, he always remembers the tiny details about you.

If you got sick, he'd become VERY attentive

For sure knew well before you even finished saying you didn't feel well, he'd already have a diagnosis list, treatment plan, etc

Physical affection would take time. A long time.

One of the biggest signs he trusts you is letting you see his exhaustion.

He's not possessive, the fact you chose him is enough for him.

He does get a little jealous though once in a blue moon

Gifts from Senku are incredibly specific to you and you alone

He'd hand it over like it was no big deal before immediately start pretending he wasn't waiting for your reaction.

Ik worlds shortest post EVER. Also, Senku does NOT deserve Luna, because I do. that's literally my wife. ALSO IF ANYONE HAS ANY REQUESTS OF HER PLS HMU

No taglist because this is shameful

Please DO NOT repurpose my work or feed into AI, I do not own any of my dividers besides my character ones.

The first time it happened, neither of you thought much of it.

You arrived at the school library fifteen minutes before lunch, backpack slung over one shoulder, already planning to spend the entire break reviewing chemistry notes.

The table in the back corner was perfect. It was away from the windows, away from the noisy students, away from literally everyone.

You'd been using it for weeks.

So naturally, you stopped dead when you saw someone already sitting there.

The boys head looked like scallion sprouts.

He has a stack of books, and notebook covered in formulas too.

Senku Ishigami.

Of course.

You stared.

He stared back.

Neither of you two moved.

"...You're in my seat."

Senku glanced around the completely empty library.

Then back at you.

"Nope."

"What do you mean 'nope?'"

"It means you're wrong."

You narrowed your eyes. "I sit there every day."

"I got here first."

"That's not how ownership works."

"Pretty sure that's exactly how ownership works."

The librarian shushed both of you before the argument could escalate.

You ended up sitting at a different table.

You hated it,,, and apparently so did he.

Because the next day, he was there again.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

By the second week, the situation had become ridiculous.

You started arriving earlier?

Senku started arriving earlier.

You came before school?

He came before school.

You showed up twenty minutes before the library officially opened? Somehow Senku was already waiting outside.

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Morning."

"I hate you."

"Likewise."

Then both of you marched straight toward the same table.

Every. Single. Day.

The rest of the student body became invested alarmingly fast.

"Who's winning?" one student whispered.

"I think it's tied."

"No way. Ishigami got there first yesterday."

"You keep track?"

"You don't?"

The weirdest part was that eventually you both stopped trying to force the other away. Instead, you simply occupied opposite ends of the table.

The table was large enough technically– so now the competition evolved.

Who could study longer? Who could focus harder? Who could completely ignore the existence of the person sitting three feet away?

You considered yourself excellent at ignoring Senku.

Unfortunately, Senku appeared equally excellent at ignoring you.

Hours would pass in complete silence.

Pages turning, pens scratching, calculators clicking.

Sometimes, you'd glance up and catch him already looking at you.

Then both of you would immediately look away as if nothing had happened.

The first direct conflict came three weeks later.

You were reviewing physics problems.

A difficult one.

You'd nearly solved it when a piece of paper slid across the table.

You frowned.

Looked down.

Looked up.

Senku didn't even glance in your direction.

The note contained a single sentence.

"Your acceleration variable is wrong."

You stared.

Then looked at your work, then looked back at him.

"You looked at my paper?"

Without raising his head, he replied "It was visible."

"You were spying."

"That's a pretty emotional interpretation."

"You corrected my equation."

"You're welcome."

You immediately flipped the paper over.

And spent the next ten minutes proving he was wrong.

Except he wasn't.

The variable actually was wrong.

The following day, you returned the favor.

Senku was working through a chemistry problem.

He hadn't gotten it wrong, per say, but he hadn't written it correctly.

It was an error– a small one. But an error none the less.

You considered ignoring it, but then you grabbed a sticky note.

"Wrong conversion factor." You slid it across the table.

Senku paused.

Read it.

Checked his calculations.

Then sighed.

"Ten billion percent annoying."

"You're welcome."

After that, the notes became routine.

"Wrong equation."

"It's actually on Page 142."

"There's a calculation error."

"You forgot a negative sign."

"That's not how statistics works."

"Your graph is ugly."

That last one started a fight.

Somewhere along the way, students stopped assuming you hated each other.

Which was ridiculous— because obviously you did. Yet every afternoon, they always found both of you sitting at the same table. And every afternoon involved some form of interaction. Every afternoon ended with one of you leaving while the other remained.

It didn't help that neither of you ever sat with anyone else.

Or that everyone constantly saw you together.

One day, two girls from another class approached your table.

One pointed at Senku, then at you.

"How long have you two been friends?"

You almost choked.

Across from you, Senku looked equally horrified.

"We're not friends."

"Absolutely not."

The responses came simultaneously.

The girls exchanged a glance.

Then smiled.

"Oh."

"Oh what?"

"Nothing."

"There is definitely an implication in that 'nothing.'"

The girls left still smiling.

You looked at Senku, Senku looked at you. Then both of you immediately returned to studying.

The library war continued.

Days became weeks.

Weeks became months.

Neither side surrendered, and neither side won.

And somehow, despite all logic, the table had stopped feeling like territory that needed defending.

It simply became expected.

You arrived, and senku was there.

Or, he arrived, and you were already there.

The routine settled into place so naturally that neither of you questioned it anymore.

Not yet.

Because at this stage, conversations rarely lasted more than a minute.

Arguments remained short.

Brief.

The real problem hadn't started yet.

The real problem would begin the day one argument accidentally stretched past closing time.

And neither of you realized you'd stopped arguing about the subject and started arguing simply because you enjoyed arguing with each other.

The first debate lasted two hours.

Neither of you intended for that to happen.

It started with a textbook, as most disasters involving you and Senku did.

You were flipping through a physics book when a sentence caught your eye.

A simplification.

Technically correct, but deeply annoying. Before you could stop yourself, you muttered,

"That's a terrible explanation."

Across the table, Senku looked up. "No, it's not."

"It absolutely is."

"It gets the point across."

"It gets the point across incorrectly."

"Sounds like a skill issue."

You stared.

He stared back.

The challenge was immediate, and neither of you could leave it alone.

Twenty minutes later, your notebooks were covered in diagrams.

Forty minutes later, you'd abandoned your original assignments entirely.

An hour later, the librarian had shushed both of you seven separate times.

Neither side conceded, and neither side won.

And somehow the library closed before the argument ended.

As you packed your things, still annoyed, Senku casually said,

"You're wrong, by the way."

You nearly threw your textbook at him.

The next day, he brought it up again. Which was weird. Normally, your arguments died the second they ended.

But halfway through studying, a folded piece of paper slid across the table.

Inside was a graph.

Along with one sentence.

""Still wrong.""

You immediately wrote a response.

""No, you are.""

The paper returned thirty seconds later.

""Compelling argument.""

You hated him.

The debates became routine after that.

You'd arrive intending to study, so would he. Then, one of you would say something.

A comment, an observation, a correction— and suddenly an hour had disappeared.

The worst part?

You were starting to enjoy it.

And unfortunately, so was Senku although he would never admit it. That was information you couldn't pull from him when with torture.

The signs were there, though.

For example, he started collecting material.

Not for school, but for arguments with you.

You discovered this by accident one afternoon.

You arrived at the library and found several articles stacked beside him.

When he noticed you looking, he casually slid them away.

Too late, you'd already read the titles. Every single one related to a debate you'd had the previous week.

Your eyes narrowed.

"...Did you research our argument?"

"No."

"You absolutely did."

"Nope."

"You brought sources."

"Maybe I just found them interesting."

"You're lying."

"Prove it."

The smug look on his face was unbearable.

And even worse, Senku had begun intentionally provoking you.

At first, you thought it was accidental. Then you realized he was doing it on purpose.

No one could possibly be that annoying naturally.

You'd mention a scientific theory? He'd deliberately oversimplify it.

You'd correct him.

He'd double down.

You'd explain.

He'd act unconvinced.

Then twenty minutes later he'd casually reveal he understood the concept perfectly from the beginning.

The first time it happened, you nearly crashed out at him.

"You knew that already."

"Yep."

"You let me explain it for twenty minutes."

"Mhm"

"Why?"

The grin he gave you should've been classified as a weapon.

You wanted to strangle him.

The truly embarrassing part was that everyone else noticed.

Again.

One afternoon, two students passed your table.

One slowed down.

The other glanced between you and Senku.

Then she sighed dramatically.

"There they are."

"There who are?"

"The debate couple."

Both of you froze.

"What?"

"We're not—"

"No."

"Absolutely not."

The response came in perfect synchronization.

The students exchanged a look before they walked away laughing.

You dropped your forehead onto the table.

Across from you, Senku looked mildly disturbed.

Which was fair.

You felt mildly disturbed too.

The problem was that the rumors weren't entirely unreasonable anymore.

You spent nearly every day together.

Not intentionally at first, it just happened. The library had become routine. And somehow Senku had become part of that routine.

You hated how normal it felt.

How expected it felt.

Sometimes you'd arrive before him.

And find yourself checking the door.

Waiting.

Just a little.

Which was ridiculous, obviously.

Senku noticed your absence immediately, and the realization irritated him.

One Tuesday, you didn't show up for a perfectly valid reason.

You were sick.

Unfortunately, Senku didn't know that. All he did know was that your chair remained empty.

All afternoon.

Which was strange.

Because you were never absent.

Not from school, not from the library, not from your endless campaign to challenge every statement he made.

The library felt unusually quiet.

Productive.

Peaceful.

And somehow worse.

By the end of the day he was irritated enough to pack up early.

The next morning you walked into the library carrying medicine and tissues.

Senku glanced up.

"You were gone."

The words left his mouth before he could stop them.

You blinked. Then blinked again.

"Were you keeping track?"

"No."

"That was suspiciously immediate."

"Coincidence."

"Liar."

"Can't prove that."

You rolled your eyes, the familiar irritation settled comfortably into place.

And for some reason, Senku found himself relaxing.

That should've been a warning sign.

Unfortunately, neither of you recognized. Neither of you were paying attention to the important details.

The way arguments started feeling less like competitions, the way conversations lasted longer, the way silence between you stopped being awkward.

The way both of you automatically looked for the other when entering the library.

You still called each other annoying, you still argued constantly, and still refused to admit friendship.

But somewhere along the way, the library stopped being a battlefield.

It became a place you expected to find each other.

And for two people who claimed to dislike one another, that expectation was becoming dangerously important.

Neither of you realized it yet.

But Senku was already collecting things he wanted to show you.

Already saving articles you'd find interesting. Already mentally composing arguments before you arrived.

And worst of all? Every afternoon, around the exact time you usually entered the library, he found himself glancing toward the door.

Just once. Only once.

Then twice.

Then three times.

Purely observational, just some scientific curiosity.

Definitely not because he was waiting for you.

No way.

Okay guys I hope this was okay, a kyouka fic is in the works so be prepared for that soon. Also I am SO tired someone put me down I signed my dumb ass up for summer classes even tho I took 12 a day ALL YEAR. Fml.

Taglist: @n4tsukis

Please DO NOT repurpose my work or feed into AI, I do not own any of my dividers besides my character ones.