Gen watched as Senku prepared their breakfast.
It had been funny at first, how people started to assume Senku was older than him instead of a couple of years younger. He had assumed it was because of Senku’s attitude and how he was forced to become an adult rather quickly when he became the fearless leader who would restore civilization; even if he still sometimes acted like a science obsessed child instead.
However, as time went by and they continued to grow older, the difference became much more visible.
At first, he had blamed Senku’s lifetime. Being a workaholic surely had to have some negative effects and rapid aging, due to stress and lack of proper rest, sounded more than reasonable.
However, it became harder to do so when he noticed that their other friends too looked older.
And it wasn’t that Gen wasn’t aging, he had become a proper adult. But when compared to the others, he seemed to be closer in age to Suika and Mirai than them, and he doubted that his skincare routine, as good as it was supposed to be, could take him that far.
“Say, Senku-chan,” he said, after patiently waiting for him to turn off the stove. He had been avoiding the question for quite some time by now, but there was no way he could keep ignoring it. “How many times have I died?”
Senku froze for a second, taking in his words before letting out a trembling laugh.
“Took you long enough to realize it, mentalist. Whatever gave it away?”
Gen knew he didn’t really want to know the number. After all, it had to be several times for him to age at such a slow rate when compared to their friends, not that there was any doubt in his mind that Senku could recall it perfectly.
So /what/ gave it away?
His mysterious youth was certainly the final piece of the puzzle, but if he had to say what gave him the first clue that something was wrong, it was probably the way their friends' eyes would suddenly get all watery when he visited, even if it hasn’t been all that long ago. They would be nicer and stare at him with such fondness too, and as time went by, that sentiment only seemed to grow.
Despite what one could have imagined, they never “got used to” it.
Even Senku had become more agreeable with time. He wouldn’t argue with him when he told him he needed a break, and more often than not, Gen would find himself getting quite pampered by the scientist.
Perhaps he felt guilty too. After all, it was the fact that Gen was the Kingdom of Science’s first diplomat what came with such a high price.
He had a bigger media presence than even Senku himself, who preferred to lock himself in the lab and only give the occasional conference. People recognized his face on the street, knew who he was, and sometimes even where he was.
Inadvertibly, they had painted a giant target on Gen’s back.
They were fortunate that if something happened to him during one of his diplomatic missions and the like, they could always take it back with the help of Medusa.
However, the thing that threw Gen off was that he couldn’t remember any time he had died even if he should.
Tsukasa did.
Hyoga did.
Why didn’t he?
“The first time it happened… you were terrified. It wasn’t like that time in Araxa, we weren’t at war anymore. You were just returning from running some errands when a crazy asshole…” Senku’s voice faltered, as if even now he had difficulty talking about it.
It didn’t help that not long after that first attack, a second one happened while he was still recovering.
So induced amnesia it was.
They began taking higher protective measures too, but they weren’t always efficient.
The cycle would repeat, and an amnesic Gen could not understand why they insisted on him retiring when they still evidently needed him. There was no better man for his job after all and they all knew it.
Throughout the years, the Kingdom of Science’s alliances and influence grew on at an exponential rate. New people were revived and introduced to the New World, and Gen was there in every step of the way.
And that posed a risk.
Again.
And again.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Gen asked, and Senku silently caressed his once marked cheek.
“Because this was easier than admitting that you were ever gone,” he said, since calling it “efficient” or “reasonable” could only take him so far. “But now… you know.”
“I do,” and after some hesitation he asked: “This /is/ the first time I know, right?”
He felt his blood run cold at the sad smile Senku gave him.
“Would it make any difference if it wasn’t?”
As much as a selfish coward Gen wanted to pretend to be, he sighed and answered with unusual honestly: “Probably not.”
Fin 🔂
