Chapter Text
“If I may give you a word of advice…” Yo says, trailing off and raising his eyebrows meaningfully. Ryusui resists the urge to sigh and sets down his teacup.
He’s dealt with a lot of men like Yo in his life: social climbers, obsessed with how they’re seen, desperate to cling to any flicker of power, fame, or wealth. Given Ryusui’s own status - the son of a shipping magnate, heir to oceans and opulence - he’s always been something of a magnet for them. The trick, he’s found, is simple: let them think they’ve been granted a glimpse behind the curtain, let them think they’ve been invited in. But never, ever let them get too close.
“Of course,” he says smoothly, the smile on his face as polished as the tea’s surface.
“Just wanted to let you get some details about the other main leaders we have here in the Kingdom, besides yourself,” Yo says, tone sliding into the familiar cadence of someone who mistakes gossip for strategy.
Ah. He’s that type. The kind who trades in whispers, hoping that by passing information, they’ll collect favors.
So far, Ryusui’s been awake for about a month - long enough to chart the outlines of this new world, but not long enough to truly understand its people. Still, he’s always had an eye for currents - whether in trade winds or human nature.
Senku’s the easiest to read: brilliant, relentless, wholly uninterested in power or praise. A man who means what he says, though he hides any softness behind the brittle shell of bluntness and scientific arrogance. Ryusui rather likes him for that. Senku isn’t moved by beauty, money, or even charm - he’s the only person Ryusui’s met who seems completely immune to such things, and the main thing he seems to want out of Ryusui is his knowledge and skills. The only currency that holds value to him is knowledge. It’s refreshing, if a little disorienting.
Gen and Ryusui had crossed paths in the modern day a few times, although there’s shifts to him now from how he was then. Gen in the modern day always struck Ryusui as a tad bored and shallow - they mostly saw each other at glittering parties studded with the cream of Japan’s elite, and while Gen was always good at drawing a crowd and commanding their attention, he’d occasionally have this dark look in his eyes that Ryusui could recognize - he was wondering about the value of it all. Here, in the Stone World, Gen seems oddly much happier - the flat veneer to him is gone, and he smiles much more frequently. Some of this is likely Senku’s influence, but Ryusui suspects part of it is also having found something that Gen thinks matters.
Chrome’s a different puzzle altogether - a self-made scientist in a world without wealth, commerce, or hierarchy. Ryusui isn’t sure how to reach someone who has no concept of ownership, who sees discovery itself as the only reward worth chasing. Normally, money is Ryusui’s most fluent language; here, it’s almost useless. Chrome doesn’t understand drago, and doesn’t care to. He’s competitive, though - fiercely so, especially about the title of “adventurer.” That’s the only inroad Ryusui’s found: to challenge him, to compete over exploration and innovation. He’s never had a rival before. It’s…fun, in a way. There’s a purity to Chrome’s ambition - a hunger untainted by cruelty - that reminds Ryusui of the feeling of catching the perfect wind on open sea. It’s wild, unrefined, and honest.
Ukyo, though - Ukyo’s different. Ukyo’s quiet, careful. Always listening, even when he seems not to be. Ryusui can’t quite get a read on him, and that bothers him more than he’d like to admit. The man’s sharp, but he keeps that intelligence folded neatly beneath layers of calm politeness. When Ryusui learned Ukyo was twenty-four, he was surprised. There’s a youthful gentleness to his face that doesn’t match the steel in his eyes.
And yet, every so often, Ukyo will glance his way with his blue eyes narrowed - just for a heartbeat - and Ryusui gets the faintest sense that Ukyo already has him figured out.
It’s a bit of a thrill, honestly. Most people telegraph their thoughts, but Ukyo’s silence is like a still ocean concealing unseen depths. Ryusui has always loved the sea - and feared it, just a little - for precisely that reason.
“Gen is Senku’s right-hand man,” Yo is saying, like that’s not immensely obvious to someone who has spent any time around Gen and Senku. Does Yo think Ryusui is blind? “If you need Senku to do something, the best way to get it is to convince Gen it’s worthwhile.”
Ryusui makes a polite humming noise, hiding his growing regret about engaging in this conversation behind a practiced smile. His tea has long since gone cold, but he lifts the cup anyway - the motion gives him something to do with his hands. He makes himself keep listening, though. Even fools can tell you something useful, if you let them think they’re clever.
“Chrome is an untrained, uneducated primitive who thinks he’s smarter than us, just like the rest of these stupid villagers,” Yo continues, and it takes effort for Ryusui to not to roll his eyes.
Ryusui tilts his head just enough to seem interested, though his patience is waning fast. The sunlight slants through the workshop window, catching the fine steam rising from a nearby pot of cooling tea. Yo’s voice drones on, sharp and self-satisfied, and Ryusui finds himself thinking that the man is like a mosquito - too small to be dangerous, but too persistent to ignore.
Francois, in their role of always being prepared for any eventuality, had asked around for background information on those they had determined were the most likely troublemakers in the Kingdom of Science. This included figures like Yo, Magma, and Tsukasa.
Yo’s a disgraced former police officer - one who is abrasive, rude, and arrogant. He creeps on most of the women but is horrendously insulting to the beautiful Nikki. He’s got a deep need to feel important, yet folds instantly when truly challenged. A coward with ambition is always a nuisance.
Francois’s notes beside his name had been concise, their observations curt and merciless: Weak-willed but thinks he isn’t. Easily manipulated by money or social standing. Should not be trusted with authority under any circumstances.
Ryusui had found that assessment accurate within minutes of meeting the man.
Oddly, Ukyo’s name had also appeared on that same list, which had given Ryusui pause. It was difficult to imagine that gentle voice or patient smile associated with the word troublemaker. Ukyo’s demeanor was so calm, so scrupulously polite, that the idea almost seemed absurd.
“It seems there is some tension between him and members of the former Empire of Might,” Francois had explained diplomatically when Ryusui asked about it. “There is…resentment aimed towards him, which is why I included him on the list. It is not so much about Master Ukyo himself, as what others might do in reaction to him.”
Ryusui had nodded at the time, but privately, he’d been intrigued. There was something in the way Francois phrased it - as though they, too, suspected that Ukyo’s still waters might conceal something sharper underneath.
“As for Ukyo, he’s the traitor of the Empire of Might,” Yo says. “Don’t get too close to him; he’ll stab you in the back.”
Finally. Something new.
“Do tell,” Ryusui says. He’ll take this all with a grain of salt, but this is something he hasn’t heard before.
Yo grins, visibly thrilled that he’s managed to pique Ryusui’s interest. “He was one of Tsukasa’s foremost lieutenants,” he says gleefully, “but he went behind Tsukasa’s back and made a deal with Senku and Gen. He even let Chrome go when he was a prisoner of war, the bastard. Lied with a smile, too. You can’t trust someone like that - you never know what they’re thinking. Push comes to shove, Ukyo’ll put himself first.”
Like you won’t? Ryusui thinks, swirling his cold tea in slow circles. The surface ripples faintly, catching the sunlight before settling again.
It doesn’t quite align with his read on Ukyo - as limited as that read may be - but it is interesting to know how others perceive him. Francois, as usual, was right - the main threat around Ukyo was how others could react to him.
“Fascinating,” Ryusui murmurs, setting down his cup. “Thank you for sharing, Yo. I’ll keep it in mind.”
Yo preens, mistaking the faint curve of Ryusui’s lips for genuine approval. “Just looking out for you, boss,” he says, grinning.
“I’m sure you are,” Ryusui replies pleasantly.
Yo excuses himself a moment later, likely to find another ear to fill. The door closes behind him with a faint click, and for a brief, blissful moment, silence settles over the room.
Ryusui exhales, long and quiet, then glances at the dregs of his tea. “A coward condemning a spy,” he mutters to himself. “How predictably ironic.” He reaches for his notebook, jotting down a few observations - not about Yo’s words, but about Yo himself. Francois will want to know - they like to keep their assessments up-to-date. There’s nothing surprising here except how willing Yo is to out himself as a rat bastard.
As for Ukyo…Ryusui allows himself a small, thoughtful smile.
If the marks of a good sailor are intuition and risk, then Ukyo might just be the most dangerous man in this whole Kingdom - precisely because no one, not even Ryusui, can yet tell what seas he’s sailing.
—
It is immensely hard to view Ukyo as dangerous, though - especially when Ryusui later notices the tears brimming in his blue eyes as he bites into Francois’s stollen.
Ukyo’s eyes go wide at the first taste, a soft, startled sound catching in his throat. A moment later, his lashes flutter and he has to look down, scrubbing quickly at his face before any tears can fall onto his bread. Ryusui pauses mid-bite, stollen halfway to his mouth, watching the man’s quiet composure crack open for just an instant.
It’s such an oddly innocent thing.
Ukyo blinks rapidly, clearly embarrassed by his own reaction, but Francois only tilts their head in mild understanding, as if they’ve seen this before. “Sorry,” Ukyo says, his voice cracking. “I just didn’t think I would ever try bread again.” He stuffs the rest of the bite in his mouth and bows to Francois. “Thank you for the treat. Please excuse me.” He walks off and vanishes into the trees, disappearing from sight.
Ryusui takes a slow bite of his own stollen, the rich sweetness melting across his tongue, and chews thoughtfully. He can’t decide which surprises him more - that Francois managed to recreate such perfection in this world, or that it’s capable of making a man like Ukyo cry. Ukyo’s got immense control over himself, and this is potentially the most genuine reaction Ryusui has seen from him yet.
“Man, you did not have that reaction when I fed you my foxtail ramen,” Senku says to Gen, who is currently taking neat little bites of his own piece.
“That’s because your ramen sucked, dear Senku,” Gen says cheerfully. “The cola was nice, though.”
“Both are good!” Chrome yells, his cheeks stuffed with stollen like a chipmunk.
“You have no sense of taste; all you ate for your whole fucking life was fish,” Senku says.
“This is amazing though,” Kohaku says, taking another piece, her face flushed with delight.
“Yeah, I can’t take what you say seriously either,” Senku retorts. “You also liked the burned bread.”
“It had a nice nutty flavor!” Kohaku protests indignantly.
Ryusui watches the exchange with an amused tilt of his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He’s becoming undeniably fond of these people.
“Is Ukyo okay?” he asks finally, tone casual but eyes still trained on the trees.
“Oh yeah, probably,” Gen says, waving a hand lazily. “I think the bread just overwhelmed him. Dear Tsukasa’s Empire didn’t have a lot of options for food - mostly stews and roasted meat. Dear Ukyo was a vegetarian in the modern world, so he really hated it.”
“What’s a vegetarian?” Chrome asks, his mouth still somehow stuffed. Is he swallowing his bread at all or just storing it for the winter?
“He didn’t eat meat,” Gen explains.
“Why not?” Kohaku asks, sounding absolutely scandalized. “Meat is delicious and vital!”
The villagers have mentioned that they’ve had famines that have wiped out portions of the village in the past, including one when Kohaku and Chrome were young. The last famine killed Chrome’s parents, and maybe Kohaku’s mom, although Ryusui isn’t sure. The idea of purposefully not eating a whole category of food is probably unthinkable to them.
“Some people didn’t eat meat for religious or health reasons,” Gen says. “Our food system was very different in the modern day, and I would suspect dear Ukyo disagreed with how animals raised for meat were treated.”
Another wrinkle in the portrait of who Ukyo is. A traitor, a military man, a backstabber, and someone who can’t bear the idea of the suffering of animals. The more Ryusui learns, the more perplexing he finds Ukyo.
“Francois,” he says quietly as Kohaku asks another question about the modern food system and Gen looks visibly stressed at the idea of explaining factory farming. “Do you think it would be possible to make tofu?”
“It might be, Master Ryusui,” Francois says after a minute, turning to take out another batch of stollen from the oven. “Cultivated soybeans might have not survived the thousand of years without human intervention, but wild soybeans are resistant and might be around.”
“If you’re looking for soybeans, ask Suika and Gen for help,” Senku says, sticking his finger in his ear. “The mentalist is good at botany and Suika loves being given tasks.”
“Not going to say this is a waste of time?” Ryusui says lightly. “Tofu doesn’t have the most amount of calories.”
Senku shrugs. “There’s also a benefit in making sure our sonar expert and marksman isn’t starving himself because he hates meat,” he points out drily. Another one of Senku’s traits Ryusui is learning: compassionate, motivated to do right by people, but utterly incapable of admitting it. He would rather everything appear purely utilitarian.
“I will consult with Miss Suika and Master Gen, then,” Francois says, dusting their hands on their apron. “If we can find soybeans, it should be no difficulty to make tofu.”
“What am I being volunteered for?” Gen says suspiciously, clearly tuning into the conversation for the first time.
“The captain wants to make sonar-man tofu,” Senku says bluntly.
Gen blinks, then a delighted, smug smile spreads across his face - the sort that makes Ryusui tense slightly. Gen’s love of teasing is legendary, and Ryusui can feel the playful spark in the air, knowing he might be next to bear the brunt.
“Ooh, what’s tofu?” Chrome asks, cheeks still slightly stuffed from his stollen, eyes wide with curiosity.
“Stay tuned,” Senku says, smirking at him. “It’s basically…squashed bean cake. Don’t worry, you’ll see soon enough.”
“It’s a vegetarian protein source that people who didn’t eat meat ate a lot of,” Gen elaborates, voice tinged with the satisfaction of someone explaining something he assumes is obvious.
“What’s protein?” Chrome asks, tilting his head, crumbs spilling from his mouth onto the table. He looks genuinely curious, oblivious to the chaos around him.
Gen groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This is like having a child,” he mutters, the exasperation clear in his tone. Senku snorts from across the table.
“This is why I told him he’d find out,” he says, patting Gen on the shoulder only somewhat condescendingly. “Chrome learns best through doing.”
Gen groans, then his gaze suddenly flicks toward Ryusui, mischievous. “You know, it’s awfully kind of you to worry about food for dearest Ukyo,” he teases, voice dripping with amusement. “He’s been eating meat without complaint, so surely it’s not the most important thing to get him tofu?”
“Haha! But there are plenty of tofu dishes I myself like, so this benefits us all, really. Am I wrong?” Ryusui says, snapping decisively.
It’s true - there’s plenty of tofu dishes he likes. Agadashi tofu, chilled tofu skin, mapo tofu, hiyayakko - he won’t turn down a nice dish, no matter if it has meat or vegetables. But there is a benefit of doing something to endear him to Ukyo, especially if he is someone that is both perceived as dangerous but moved by something as simple as a sweet bread.
“Uh-huh, sure,” Gen says, with the clear tone of I don’t believe you.
“You’re just trying to get out of work again, aren’t you?” Kohaku says drily. “Well, I for one am excited to try this tofu!”
Ryusui takes another bite of the stollen as Gen and Kohaku start bickering, savoring the sweetness of the bread. He lets his gaze turn to the trees that Ukyo vanished into.
Mysteries upon mysteries. Luckily, Ryusui’s always been down for anything that might entertain him.
—
“I’m not sure why you brought me up here,” Ukyo says, amusement threading his voice as he leans over the edge of the balloon’s basket. The wind tugs lightly at his hair, lifting it in strands that catch the sunlight and glint brilliantly white. He’d left his cap at camp to avoid it being whisked away. “I’ve got good hearing, not good vision. I can’t hear much with the wind like this.”
“Are you sure you’d be able to hear the oil fields?” Ryusui asks, feeding more fuel into the stove, genuinely curious. People keep mentioning Ukyo’s keen hearing, but he isn’t entirely sure how sharp it really is.
“Depends on how noisy they are,” Ukyo replies, tilting his head slightly. “Though I’m not sure I would know what an oil field sounds like in its natural state.”
Ryusui studies him carefully. They haven’t spent much time alone together, and inviting Ukyo up into the balloon to scout for the Sagara oil fields had been almost impulsive. To his mild surprise, Ukyo had accepted without hesitation. Kohaku and Chrome had taken the ground team.
“They bicker so much,” Ukyo had said when Ryusui asked if he wasn’t tempted to go with them. “It gives me a headache.”
“I would imagine some kind of bubbling noise, although I bet they stink to high-heaven,” Ryusui says, standing up and dusting off his hands. He’s had to tie his hair back so the wind stops blowing it into his mouth.
“Are you thinking of oil fields or a witch’s cauldron?” Ukyo asks.
“Haha! Maybe both. I’m not sure I would know what an oil field sounded like either,” he says.
Ukyo hums, a low, contemplative sound, but doesn’t add anything further. He simply gazes out over the sprawling canopy below, as if absorbing the scale of the world in silence. Ryusui isn’t entirely sure what to do next, so he takes a moment to measure the wind, noting its brisk bite but confident that he has the balloon under control.
“Sometimes it’s hard remembering that 3,700 years passed since we were petrified,” Ukyo says after a long pause, his voice soft but steady, “but it is somewhat undeniable from this angle.”
Ryusui glances over. Ukyo’s staring out over the unbroken forest, his forehead wrinkled.
“Yeah,” Ryusui says after a moment. “It’s thrilling though - am I wrong?”
“In a way,” Ukyo replies, his tone nearly unreadable. He could be politely agreeing, or silently judging Ryusui as an idiot. “I don’t love not knowing what caused this, because that means it could happen again, and we’d be as blindsided as we were the first time. And it wasn’t exactly pleasant to wake up to an Empire run by a maniacal idealist.” He says the last part blandly, like he’s talking about the weather - but it’s the first time Ryusui has heard Ukyo mention the Empire himself.
Most of what he knows has come from other people. Gen’s been working overtime trying to keep the two factions in-line as they merge into one cohesive group. Yo can’t stop trying to antagonize both Magma and Chrome about their lack of civilization. Senku and a young girl - Mirai? - keep going off to check on what they say is the “cold coffin” of the Empire’s leader.
People on both sides - those originally from the Kingdom of Science and the newcomers from the Empire - are wary around Ukyo, generally. Yo, despite his tough talk, gives him a huge berth. Magma has referred to Ukyo as a “weedy little stick” that he wants to break, but quiets down once he realizes Ukyo is within his (probable) earshot. He’s given a lot of respect but it’s clear there’s fear intermingled with it.
Chrome, Senku, and Gen firmly trust Ukyo, though.
“He gave me a battery and helped me escape when the Empire captured me,” is what Chrome said when Ryusui asked him for his impression of Ukyo. “He’s a good dude.”
“He’s on our side now, and that’s what matters,” is what Senku said. “We wouldn’t have won the war if he hadn’t joined us, though.”
Ryusui didn’t bother asking Gen directly - he had slid into the seat beside Ryusui a few weeks ago during dinner, leaning back casually. “Dear Ukyo is a darling, dear Ryusui,” Gen had said, as if stating a fact so self-evident it required no further discussion. “Don’t listen to what anyone else says about him.”
He doubts Ukyo is the type to appreciate a blunt question along the lines of hey so why is everyone scared to death of you when you look like you’d cry if you accidentally squashed a bug. So instead, he says, “You know, no one’s told me that much about Tsukasa. I really only know him as a MMA fighter from the modern day - and a sexy one at that.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Tell me more about the whole thing?”
Ukyo snorts, and looks down, trying to suppress a smile. Ryusui is the kind of person who finds everyone beautiful, but Ukyo’s got a fae thing to him that makes him look a little unearthly, like he’d break under pressure. He’s a bit small and delicate - he’s only a few centimeters taller than Senku and Chrome, and his voluminous outfit almost seems like it would swallow him up. And yet, right now, in the shifting sunlight this high above the earth, he’s luminous, almost ethereal, and Ryusui feels his breath catch just a little.
“Hm, well, Senku would be the better person to ask,” Ukyo hedges. “He was here from the start and on the opposing side.”
“I tried; all he said we won the war so it didn’t matter and I’d meet Tsukasa once we figured out how to petrify him safely.” Senku’s biggest strength is his straightforwardness. It’s also his biggest drawback. The man just does not understand the social power of gossip.
“Sounds like Senku,” Ukyo says. “Ugh, fine. What do you want to know?” He crosses his arms over his chest. His sleeves are quite roomy, but with the wind, Ryusui can see the definition of his arms. Archery, right.
“I just don’t know anything, really, except that there was this big fight,” Ryusui admits. He wonders if he should bring up that he knows both Gen and Ukyo were originally associated with the Empire, although Gen’s loyalty was almost immediately captured by Senku.
The same doesn’t seem to have been true for Ukyo, but again, Ryusui really doesn’t know the details.
“Senku woke up first, about two and a half years ago now as far as I know,” Ukyo says after a long moment. “He also got Taiju at some point. They got into some kind of scrape and ended up needing to wake up Tsukasa. As far as I know, from there, Tsukasa decided he liked a pure world, free from the influence of money or old ideas or science. I think he broke Senku’s neck, and I’m not entirely sure how Senku survived that. Gen was supposed to check if Senku was alive or not - Taiju and Yuzuriha were sent to infiltrate the Empire under the premise that Senku was dead, but I don’t think Tsukasa ever really trusted that.”
“He sounds like he was paranoid,” Ryusui says.
“Yeah, he was,” Ukyo says, but doesn’t elaborate. “Anyway, Tsukasa sent Gen to see if Senku was dead, but Senku got him on his side almost immediately. Gen lied and told Tsukasa that Senku was dead, which gave them the time to build the cell phone - Senku was smart enough to figure out that if they could establish communications, they’d have the upper hand.”
Ryusui leans back slightly, absorbing the tale. Ukyo’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. “Tsukasa’s goal was to kill Senku and stop the establishment of science. He was building up an army to take down Senku’s Kingdom, so he was reviving people from his MMA circuit and the martial arts community.”
“And you…?” Ryusui asks, sensing an opening. “Where did you fit in all of this?”
Ukyo’s gaze drifts back to the horizon, and he lets out a soft breath. “Minami, the journalist, pointed me out because of my hearing abilities. I don’t think Tsukasa realized I was good at archery until they woke me up. They needed me to be a lookout and a spy.” He says it flatly, with no inflection.
“So how did you end up here?” Ryusui asks, bending down to feed more fuel into the stove. He’s sort of given up on the pretense of looking for the oil fields - listening to this feels much more worthwhile.
Ukyo’s quiet for a long moment. “I don’t think I blame Tsukasa for his ideals,” he says finally. “It’s not like the modern world was a paradise. But he was smashing up the statues of anyone who looked older than twenty-five and who he recognized as being someone he hated in the modern day, and at some point I couldn’t tolerate being an accomplice to murder.” Ukyo swallows, and shakes himself. “Anyway. It’s in the past, now.”
Ryusui doesn’t say anything at first. Ukyo’s turned back to the view, his profile lit by the shifting light, blue eyes narrowed in thought. The sunlight brushes his face and hair, and for a second he looks impossibly far away, untouchable, like a glacier, like the moon. He’s beautiful, Ryusui thinks, a touch helplessly. Not in the way he’s used to admiring people - this is something quieter, steadier, like the pull of a compass needle. It’s disorienting, how his focus keeps narrowing toward Ukyo.
Ukyo’s posture shifts a little, tensing up, and Ryusui senses he’s closing the chapter on this conversation. There are more questions he could ask - why Ukyo is so proficient with archery, what drove him to finally break with the Empire, how he became one of its most formidable men - but he doesn’t get the feeling Ukyo wants to talk about it anymore.
Besides, he’s got some information to work with here.
“Haha, my thanks!” he says, snapping his fingers loudly enough that Ukyo flinches - Ryusui still doesn’t have any idea how good his hearing is. “It’s helpful to understand everyone’s relationships with each other.”
Ryusui exhales, taking in the forest below. The balloon drifts gently in the wind, the ropes taut in his hands, the stove crackling faintly beside him. It’s time to refocus.
“All right, Ukyo,” Ryusui says, adjusting his stance and glancing over the instruments. “Let’s finish looking for the oil deposits before this wind dies down.”
Ukyo inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment, silent but attentive, and together they return to their methodical search. The forest stretches endlessly below, but Ryusui feels a renewed confidence. He’s making progress.
On what? He has no idea. But he’s doing something.
—
“I did warn you not to talk to Ukyo,” Yo says disapprovingly one evening as Ryusui is looking at the plan for the layout of the Perseus’s command center. He’s not sure why Yo is here - Ryusui has been exceedingly careful to not engage with him. “He’s a backstabber and a traitor; you shouldn’t bother with him.”
“Haha, well, he will be our sonar operator!” Ryusui says, snapping his fingers. “It’s important to have a good relationship with your crew.” He’s at the edge of camp, working while Francois is finishing up dinner. Francois is busy, so he won’t be getting a rescue from them. Ukyo, nearby, is helping chop a giant tuna, looking somewhat displeased about it.
Ryusui tries to get Gen’s attention - he’s drinking a cola and hanging off Senku as Senku and Chrome discuss something about the search for the oil fields. The mentalist is ignoring him - he also can’t depend on Gen to come save him from this conversation.
Ryusui tries not to sigh, but god, he finds Yo so tedious. He might need to rethink his stance on everyone’s inherent desirability.
“Do you even know what he did in Tsukasa’s Empire?” Yo says sharply, crossing his arms across his chest. “The bastard was one of the top commanders and just threw it away!”
Ryusui shoots Ukyo a look. Ukyo’s absorbed in deboning the fish, looking grim. He’s still not sure how good Ukyo’s hearing is, but he’s a good forty feet away and the camp is full of people chattering after a long day. Surely his hearing can’t be that sharp?
“Tsukasa and Hyoga could have won, if Ukyo hadn’t stopped them,” Yo says disgustedly. “Just because he was too soft for what Tsukasa had planned.”
“Do you not like being in the Kingdom or something? Because we can let you off on your own if it’s chafing against you that badly,” Ryusui snaps, finally losing his patience a little bit. Yo looks a little taken aback. He must have really assumed that Ryusui’s greed had the same malevolent edge to it that Yo’s own did. “Ukyo is a valuable member of this Kingdom. I don’t give a shit what he did before. What matters is what he does now.”
Yo throws up his hands in mock surrender. “Sheesh, okay. Don’t come crying to me when he screws you over like he did Tsukasa. I did warn you.” He stalks off, muttering under his breath. Ryusui exhales, watching him disappear, then looks around.
Ukyo is staring dead at him, his face unreadable, his blue eyes narrowed. Ryusui swallows, his throat dry. Ukyo turns and says something to Nikki, who takes the knife from him and takes over on the fish.
Ukyo wipes his hands on a rag and walks across camp towards Ryusui. He stops in front of Ryusui’s worktable, still with that unreadable look on his face. “What were you and Yo discussing?” he asks quietly. He crosses his arms across his chest, and again, there are those absolutely lovely muscles, just barely visible under his sleeves.
“He was being a bastard,” Ryusui says. “Don’t worry. It’s not important. I told him to stop.”
Ukyo narrows his eyes at him. “He’s not wrong about me being a coward,” he says finally.
“How the fuck did you hear that?” Ryusui asks, genuinely taken aback.
“My hearing’s good,” Ukyo says, like that answers any of Ryusui’s questions.
Ryusui exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, congratulations. You just ruined any chance I had of sneaking insults past you.”
Ukyo tilts his head slightly, expression still unreadable. “I didn’t come here to ruin anything,” he says quietly. “I came to ask why you…defended me like that.”
“Because you’re worth defending,” he says, voice sharper than intended. He catches himself and smooths it over with a grin. “I mean…come on. You don’t deserve someone like Yo lecturing you for past mistakes. I don’t care what you did. You made the right choice.”
Ukyo stares at him, and Ryusui can see a faint heat creeping up his neck, the pink standing out against his pale skin and almost-white hair. It’s a sunrise blushing across his face, subtle and captivating. “I made the wrong ones for a long time,” Ukyo admits, voice low, trying to steady himself. “I don’t know if I deserve any credit.”
Ryusui is momentarily distracted, his mind stumbling over how stunning Ukyo looks like this. His pulse races, and he swallows hard, the dryness in his throat catching him off guard.
It takes him a moment to respond, letting the tension hang in the air before he snaps his fingers, a habitual gesture to punctuate his thoughts. “Haha! Many men spend their whole lives making the wrong choices and never making the right ones. To get to it eventually is better than never doing it; am I wrong?”
Ukyo’s eyes linger on him, scanning, calculating, as if measuring the sincerity behind Ryusui’s words. The campfires glow against his features, catching in the pale strands of hair around his face, making him look almost ethereal, like he doesn’t fully belong in the world.
Ryusui leans a little closer, heart hammering. “You did what mattered when it counted,” he says softly, letting his voice drop just enough to make it intimate. “That’s the only thing that truly matters to me.”
Ukyo glances down, face now fully red, the tips of his ears pink too. He chokes out a soft, almost inaudible, “Thank you,” before turning on his heel and speeding off, disappearing into the trees.
Ryusui watches him go, chest tight, feeling dizzy from the sudden rush of heat and adrenaline. He exhales shakily, hands gripping the edge of the table like it will anchor him against the vertigo of desire and uncertainty swirling through him.
What the fuck.