Chapter Text
Fifty-seven.
Fifty-eight.
Fifty-nine.
Sixty.
Exactly 117 days, nine hours, and twenty-six minutes. That's how long Ishigami Senku has been imprisoned.
Counting in a cell is different than counting while petrified. His ass hurts. His captors have been oh-so-generously rotating which limb gets chained to the wall, but his skin is rubbed raw nonetheless. It's actually not too bad, though—they feed him plenty of hearty meals, his hygienic needs are well met, and most days, they let him out to assist in the laboratory. He even enjoys the time they spend doing science together.
The lack of freedom, the screeching halt to his plans, the hostage situation—certainly less than ideal. But for Senku, the absolute worst part about being imprisoned by Dr. Xeno and his soldier, Stanley Snyder, is hearing them flirt through the walls at night.
Gives him the creeps.
"Hey, Xeno—I'm runnin' out of matches."
"Is that so? Well, perhaps you should stop smoking. You could start now by putting that out."
"Yeah? Why don'tcha make me, Doc?"
"Oh… Truly an elegant idea, Stan."
Senku shudders cartoonishly at the memory of last night. Gross.
He's wracked his brain considering every option for escape, but the opportunity hasn't come. Xeno is more experienced than he is, unfortunately, and science isn't magic. He needs an independent variable to work some trial and error. Until then, he's out of options. All he can do is continue thinking, observing, and waiting for something to change. Waiting for something to exploit.
He trusts that his friends are doing the same. They're little more than slave labor for the Americans, but at least he knows they're safe. Xeno has promised that much, as long as they behave, of course. But he underestimates them. Winter has given them time to plan, and with spring right around the corner, there is no better time for change. The weather alone is an independent variable.
Something will happen eventually. Xeno may be the best of the best—and overly committed to the whole 'evil dictator' act—but he isn't without weakness. There's one obvious flaw in his logic: Senku is alive. If Xeno didn't have a soft spot for him, he'd be ten billion percent dead. Game over. Turns out NASA-sensei has a heart, after all. He's far too cunning to be manipulated by that, though. Probably.
But Senku may as well try a little.
The most powerful weapon in a war is communication. If Senku can find even the tiniest weak point in this impenetrable fortress, it may just be the key to their victory. If he could convince Xeno to loosen his grip, even a few minutes outside might be enough time to leave a trail or an encrypted message in the dirt. Turns out the mentalist has really rubbed off on him, even though the success of both options feels like total RNG. All he can do is try and try again. That's how science works.
Despite Senku's persistent plans to escape, it really has been fun doing science with his old mentor. He still respects him, and it goes without saying that he enjoys learning from him. He always has and always will. He used to dream about this kind of collaboration as a kid—give or take a few details.
His cell is in a small room adjacent to Xeno's laboratory. The heavy metal door rumbles when it opens, the tiny window in the corner faces south-east, and the hard floor gets cold as shit during the night. Sleeping outside in a fur sack was infinitely more comfortable than the situation in here. A couple of blankets and a thin, hay-stuffed pillow are hardly enough to combat the unforgiving steel.
The same man comes in most mornings—burly, tall, and with a triangle-shaped petrification mark around his eye. He brings food, escorts Senku to the bathroom, and drops him off at Xeno's lab without ever uttering a single word. He knows Senku speaks English. He probably just doesn't give a shit. But it's a different soldier who comes in today, and Senku doesn't have to look to know who it is. He can smell the cigarette smoke as soon as the door opens.
"Get up," Stanley orders, fumbling with the cell's lock. He's usually expressionless, but his amber eyes hold a constant intensity that reminds everyone he's a threat—and the most dangerous one, at that. Not that Senku gives a shit.
"Yeah, yeah." He lazily drags himself off the floor, yawning and cracking his neck. Routinely, he extends his arm for Stanley to undo the chain.
Stanley is just a soldier following orders, and he's never shown Senku anything but cold indifference. It's hard to see through the stoicism of a true professional, but the way he yanks Senku around gives the impression he doesn't like him very much. In reality, it's probably just a reminder that he could snap Senku like a twig with one hand while lighting a fresh cigarette with the other. He certainly spares no compassion as he uses the chain to pull Senku's wrist forward, tearing the skin underneath. He undoes the restraint, and the metal cuff clanks loudly as it falls to the floor.
"C'mon."
Senku follows silently, rubbing the tender skin of his wrist and rewrapping his bandages. They've been tinted a slight brownish-red from the repeatedly torn skin and blisters.
Stanley doesn't look at him when he speaks.
"You gotta piss or something?"
"Nope."
Xeno lets him go on his own during the day anyway. Stanley probably wouldn't like to hear that, but it's not like Senku could make it more than a few steps out of bounds before he'd get caught misbehaving. He's not an irrational idiot who'd try to run off on his own.
They round a corner and enter the lab from a side door—the door to the outside is locked and covered.
Senku's lab back in Ishigami Village was built with wood and stone. The handmade pots and clay furnace match the earth they came from. Xeno's lab, on the other hand, is cold and unfeeling. The only things that aren't metal or glass are the movable white curtains hanging all over the place. Senku isn't sure exactly what their purpose is, but then again, Xeno is the kind of man to build a castle. Towering above them, the spires serve as organized storage for various minerals and chemicals. At the end of the day, the place really is as practical as it is flashy.
"Hey, Xeno," Stanley calls. "Brought the kid."
Xeno peers up from the metal table he's standing over. Papers wrinkle beneath his gloves' claws, and the overhead light casts sharp shadows beneath his coat's jagged collar. Smug, he turns up his chin, lifting the black mark on his forehead into the light. Even so, his eyes remain endlessly dark, and his self-satisfied gaze lingers on Senku for just a moment too long in the complete silence.
At this point, Senku is really getting used to the devious glares. He's never chosen to question them—that's just how Dr. Xeno is. It's part of the man's superiority complex or mystique or whatever. Senku couldn't care less.
"Excellent," Xeno purrs, his gaze unwavering. "We have work to do."
The door rumbles shut as Stanley leaves.
Usually, Senku is dragged over to help Xeno do chemistry, solve equations, or assemble things. Xeno doesn't actually need his help with any of that, but it's not to say that Senku isn't helpful. The two bounce off each other effortlessly, reaching near synchronicity as they put their minds together. Once they get going, they're captor and prisoner no longer.
But today is different. The table is covered in blueprints and a three-dimensional map that looks more like a miniature display. Ten-year-old Ryusui would have a blast.
Hands on his hips, Senku laughs under his breath. "What is it, arts and crafts time?"
"It's a model," Xeno replies plainly, immune to Senku's jabs. "With spring on its way and the revival fluid recipe in our hands, it's time we begin to expand. That involves assigning new work to your people. You know their strengths far better than we do."
Senku leans in for a closer look. As per usual, Xeno doesn't actually need his help with any of this.
"Of course, we need to expand strategically," Xeno continues. "We'll prioritize increased security around our base and cornfield, then form a settlement around its perimeter. I want your help distributing the workload."
Petulant and uninterested, Senku scratches his ear with his pinky finger. "Yeah, whatever."
There's nothing exhilarating about this type of civilization-building.
"Then there's something else I'd like your thoughts on as well." Xeno slaps an extra-large schematic down on the table. "We're entering the early planning phase. We'll need a lot of people to make it happen."
Senku raises his eyebrows, intrigued by what he sees—designs for a massive oil refinery. Xeno drinks it up, proud of himself.
"A few years ago, our colony found a small oil deposit to the east. It's been enough to get by, but think of the things we could do with mass amounts of gasoline, Senku."
We. There he goes again with that 'we.'
"Back in the twenty-first century, there were large oil fields to the south." Xeno unravels a rudimentary map, and points with his claw at the circles he's drawn in Southern California. "Traveling by boat may be most efficient for now, but one day, we could build a railroad. Better tanks, naval vessels, rockets… If we put our minds together, we could even develop new weapons unlike anything the old world had ever seen. This is how we start."
"Well, I don't give a rat's ass about that," Senku snorts, crossing his arms. "But that kind of gasoline would definitely make traveling easier. Flying around the world for resources would be a breeze, eventually."
"Precisely," Xeno smirks arrogantly. "Or the revival of cars and the high-speed diesel engine."
Senku chuckles, greedy for it all. He just can't help but get excited.
"We'd hit the Third Industrial Revolution in no time, with those things."
"Elegantly said, Dr. Senku!" Xeno beams as he leans forward eagerly. "Computers, nuclear energy—space exploration reborn!"
He never loses his smug air of superiority, but his enthusiasm is far too childlike for someone pursuing monocracy. It's nothing new. Their days together in the lab often end up like this, and Senku can't judge him one millimeter for it—he's the exact same way. Like master, like student. It's been a while since he pushed his luck, though.
"Are you gonna keep me locked up for all of that, too?" He taunts, challenging him.
Xeno sneers with a condescending huff, but then his face falls flat. He's pretty easy to see through. Reality is harsher for him than it is for Senku—Xeno may think a future like that can never happen, but Senku still fully plans on doing those things with him anyway. Just not in the way Xeno currently wants.
"Of course," he answers coldly, turning up his nose. "It's life imprisonment or death. Surely you haven't forgotten."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I still plan on going to space."
Xeno stares at him icily, hard-heartedness returning in full force. But his words say otherwise.
"That's too bad. It's a truly elegant thing to want."
"Well, I'd at least like to see the stars again," Senku says softly, staring at the floor. It feels like the right moment to take a chance on his manipulation strategy—but if he's being honest, it's a genuine desire either way. "It's been almost four months since I've been outside. It's hard not to look up and see space sometimes, y'know."
He feigns an indifferent snicker, but ends up surprised by how authentically earnest he sounds. He intended for the words to come out on behalf of his escape plan, but they came out for the sake of his true feelings instead. He can't lie about stuff like this.
At least that means it's believable, right, mentalist?
Xeno glances at him sympathetically for only a moment before his scowl returns.
"We're off topic." His shoes clack against the metal floor as he walks to the counter for fresh paper. "I need a list of your people and their strengths. That's all for today. I won't need you for anything else."
Senku sighs. Well, if nothing else, he's successfully pissed him off.
He returns to his cell for a long night of counting. Hours pass as the sun slowly sets, leaving the room in a lonely darkness.
Thirty-four.
Thirty-five.
Thirty-six—
"Hey, Xeno." Stanley's voice carries through the wall.
Senku groans. Great. He's in for another night of flirting and disgusting noises—as if cell-sweet-cell couldn't get any cozier.
"Oh, elegant timing, Stan. I want you to look at this."
"Hmm? We building this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Either there's a moment of silence, or they're speaking too quietly for Senku to hear.
"Really, Xeno? He's a prisoner, y'know."
"Don't tell me you're jealous, Stan."
"Course not."
More quiet. Their voices are too muffled, so Senku presses an ear against the cold wall.
"Well, I really don't care what you do with him. I know you got a thing for the kid, but if you want him to stay a prisoner, you need to treat him like one."
"I'm well aware."
"Just makin' sure…"
Senku leans away, eyebrows and petrification marks scrunched as he dissects what he just heard. Building something for him? And something else that Stanley said sticks out to him as well—'I know you got a thing for the kid.' A thing?
What the hell does he mean by that?
A shiver runs down Senku's spine, and his eyes widen in horror and disgust.
What the hell does he mean by that?
Surely it's not what he's afraid of. Although Xeno has always looked at him a certain way…
No way.
Absolutely not.
Senku buries his face in his palm, trying to vanquish the thought. He's been cooped up for too long and is starting to lose his mind—his most precious resource. He hopes that whatever they're building will help get the hell out of here. He'd also like to think that overhearing their conversation gives him some kind of advantage, but to be honest, he probably would have preferred the flirting for once.
☆
Two uneventful weeks pass.
The conversation Senku overheard that night never leaves his mind, even though it's been business as usual. He starts to lose faith that anything is coming until Xeno frees him from his cell one night.
It's odd—it's almost never him who does it.
"Come with me."
Only Xeno's shoes make any sound as they walk. After climbing four sets of stairs—leaving Senku pathetically out of breath—they reach a part of the fortress that he's never seen before. This hallway is longer and emptier than the others, and clearly serves only one purpose: a single door at the end. Even that is different from the other ones he's seen. With a wheel for a handle, it looks more like the door to a vault.
"You aren't useful to me if you aren't well taken care of," Xeno states plainly, twisting a key in the lock. "I think you'll find this more suitable. It's lifelong imprisonment, after all."
He turns the wheel and motions for Senku to step inside.
Senku isn't sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn't this. He understands now why a room like this was built on the highest floor.
It's a beautiful glass observatory.
The room is circular with an elaborate glass dome ceiling. It's one of the few times he's seen wood anywhere in the castle, shaping the semisphere to support the glass. There's even a telescope near the center, sitting next to a bed—a real bed, with a frame and a mattress. It's been at least 3,700 years since Senku slept in one of those. An oil lamp is already lit on a bedside table, painting the otherwise dark room in a warm glow.
A small divider, much like a Shoji screen, is tucked to the side with a wash stand and basin. Soap, a towel, and a pitcher for water rest on the shelf. Beside that, a dresser stores a chessboard and spare clothes that Senku will never put on. And finally, on the opposite end of the room sits a wide bookshelf. It's empty now, obviously, but built like a promise for the future. There are no chains to be seen. No bars. Pretty damn luxurious for a prison cell.
Xeno follows him inside, hands folded behind his back, as the heavy door shuts slowly behind them.
"What do you think, Senku? Truly elegant, isn't it?"
Senku waves him off. "Yeah, yeah. I'm so full of warm and fuzzy gratitude I could cry."
"It's better than outside, no?"
Senku looks up to admire the stars. He doesn't know how to respond. Something feels off—not that there's any logic in a gut feeling, but he feels uneasy for some reason. Xeno comes to his side and stares up with him, much like the day they met five years ago. No—thousands of years ago.
"Surely you understand why I can't just let you outside."
"Yeah," Senku mutters. "But are you really gonna trust me in here instead of a cell?" He snorts, waving his hand. "I mean, not that I'm complaining."
"The door locks from the outside." Xeno looks down at him threateningly. "You're being monitored."
"Don't tell me you drilled a peephole in the wall or something."
Xeno doesn't find his quips very amusing.
"No." He crosses his arms and gestures with his claws toward the door. "Would you rather go back to the cell instead?"
Senku doesn't answer, assuming it was rhetorical.
He sits on the bed to examine the telescope. It's much more advanced than the one in Ishigami Village, but he certainly doesn't like it as much. It makes him nostalgic. Until now, he never realized how much that place felt like home. The days spent crafting outside of the village feel like a distant memory. It's almost funny to think that Xeno was already building guns on the other side of the world while he was busy reinventing ramen. The Americans were lucky to start with platinum in their hands, while they had to fight like hell through conflicts and setbacks to get where they are now.
He wouldn't change any of it, though. Not a single thing. And that's all this is—just another conflict and setback. They always pull through in the end, and they will this time, too. It wouldn't hurt to enjoy the moment, just a little bit.
Xeno kneels to adjust the telescope's height, moving it ever so slightly.
"There. That should be about right."
Senku looks through the eyepiece and feels his heartbeat pick up. It's centered closely on Jupiter, in all its glory. The cloud bands and Great Red Spot are still perfectly visible after 3,700 years. It's beautiful.
He doesn't realize the enamored expression he's making until Xeno hums through a conceited smile below him. Senku saves face, just as he always does, by chuckling under his breath.
"Not bad."
With one eye up in space and the other scrunched shut, he doesn't notice the way Xeno encroaches closer to him.
"I really do wish it didn't have to be this way, Senku."
"Yeah, well—"
He jerks back, breath sucked out of his lungs, when he feels a hand sliding up his thigh. Leaning into him from below, Xeno gazes up at him earnestly. With a twinge of sadness in his voice, he really means what he says.
"I wish you would have joined me of your own volition."
"Hey," Senku warns. He squirms uncomfortably and grabs Xeno's wrist to push him away, but he's too weak. Xeno's grip tightens in response, and the claws dig into his soft skin with enough strength to bruise. They hungrily slip beneath the bottom of his tunic, sliding further up his thigh as Xeno continues to lean toward him.
Senku feigns a smile, pretending to be in control despite the obvious panic setting in on his face. "Does Stanley-sensei know you're getting handsy with your pupil?"
"Stan is my soldier. Our actions here don't concern him."
"'Your soldier' my ass," Senku retorts, ears turning red.
Xeno stands, forcing a knee between Senku's legs and resting it on the mattress. Senku backs away, but long claws tangle in his hair before he can move much further. Despite Xeno's devious smirk, the way he cradles Senku's head is gentle and careful. Hovering mere inches above him, he lifts his chin with one hand and caresses his cheek with the other. Even through the glove, his palm is warm against Senku's skin.
"You've always had such a bright mind." The metal tip of his forefinger taps against Senku's temple. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. You always have."
Like a fawn frozen at the end of a hunter's scope, a mix of shock and fear keeps Senku rooted in place.
He's usually able to hide his emotions during moments of extreme danger—at least he used to be. Even in the face of certain death, as Tsukasa shattered his cervical nerve, he didn't so much as flinch. It's not to say he wasn't terrified, of course. But whenever his hands trembled, his face rarely showed it.
That has begun to change, though. The more people he cares about, the more responsibility and pressure weigh down on his shoulders. This is certainly less fearsome than at least a few dozen things they've survived over the years, but for some reason, his brain won't kick into motion. He's letting them down. He's being preyed upon and encaged, and he's incapable of stopping it.
He stares, lips parted, with startled red eyes that have lost their grit.
"I truly do respect you, Senku," Xeno coos, brushing his thumb across his cheek. It nearly stabs him in the eye. "Imprisonment aside, I don't wish to force you into anything you don't want."
Senku begs himself to snap out of it.
Xeno's hand slides down his neck and onto his shoulder, coaxing him to lie back. It almost works, but Senku catches himself just before he falls. Keeping himself up with both arms, he's powerless to stop Xeno from crawling further over him anyway. Xeno slowly caresses down his chest and leans to whisper mockingly in his ear.
"If you want me to stop, you're certainly free to say so."
The tickle of his breath makes Senku shudder, finally snapping him awake. He frantically grabs Xeno's hand as it slips beneath his tunic once again, hungrily reaching even higher than before.
"Wait, wait—"
"That's not 'stop', Senku."
Gritting his teeth, Senku pushes against Xeno's chest with all the force he can muster.
"Then stop."
A man of his word, Xeno obeys and pulls away. But his eyes immediately snap to the tent below Senku's belt.
He's won.
The revelation strikes like lightning—sweet, electric ecstasy making his silvery hair stand on end. Like he's trying not to laugh, Xeno's chin juts and his eyebrows pinch in cruel delight. He straightens, if only for the sake of looking down, and the lamp's underlighting intensifies on his face as a result. It's the most arrogant, patronizing, shit-eating grin capable by the human body.
Senku has never felt so humiliated.
Unbearably hot and red in the face, he frantically pushes his dick down like it's betrayed him. Xeno's eyes narrow as his beaming smile fades into a smaller, more sinister one.
"Oh. Isn't that interesting?"
"Just go away, please."
A rare 'please'—Xeno hums, proud of himself.
Mortified, Senku buries his face in his hands. He doesn't look, but he knows Xeno is gone once the door rumbles shut. The lock clanks loudly on the other side.
This entire time, all of those lingering glances… So it really was like that, huh. The whole situation is so utterly absurd that he tries to laugh it off. You gotta be kidding me.
Is that why he's still alive? Is that the only reason? The idea is too insulting to entertain. And another question haunts him as well: Exactly how long has Xeno…? His stomach drops, revolted. He doesn't want to know.
He's afraid to know.
And why won't his dick go down?
He's just pent up. That's all it is. He hardly has any interest or time to spare on this kind of thing, but the human body has its limits. And it's not like he's jerked off even once in the last few months. He could just bang one out and pretend it never happened. He has a bed with a blanket now, at least.
He crawls under the covers, burying even his head fully under the fabric. Only once he feels the warmth of his own breath bouncing back at him does he realize how heavily he's been breathing. His heart rate is obviously elevated, but even that feels stupidly more noticeable now. He just wants to get it over with.
Senku bites his bottom lip as he finally reaches beneath his clothes. He's wetter than he'd like to admit, dripping onto his thigh, and just one stroke already feels immensely gratifying. It's hard not to race through it. He doesn't want to shake the bed too much, just in case there really is a damn peephole—he doubts it, but can't be too sure of anything at the moment. If he's being honest, though, he's savoring the building pleasure for his own satisfaction more than anything. It never feels this good. He's always considered this particular condition of the human body to be a curse. Right now, it feels like anticipatory bliss.
His entire body clenches as he turns his face further against the pillow, instantly wetting it with drool. He's close, and so much sooner than he expected. He hastily unwraps the bandages from his left arm so that he has something to finish in, and scrunches his eyes shut. But as soon as he submits to total darkness, the image of Xeno hovering over him burns into his mind. The way his dark, sullen eyes narrowed as he stared at him hungrily, the way his lips brushed warmly against his ear, the way his hand slid up his thighs with enough force to bruise, eager to devour—as soon as Senku realizes what he's doing, his eyes fly open. He'd like to finish while thinking about anything other than that.
Shit.
Afraid to close his eyes and see him again, Senku stares determinedly at the lamp's glow beyond the blanket. It doesn't work. Nearing his peak, he still thinks about Xeno anyway—the attempt to keep his eyes open only results in them rolling back when he cums, bucking his hips into his own hand and groaning under his breath.
"Fuck, Xeno…"
Things just keep going from bad to worse.
And unfortunately, it's the best orgasm he's ever had. He didn't know it could feel quite like that. He brushes a long strand of hair away from his face and shoves his bandages under the pillow. Disgusting. Xeno can never know.
Exhausted and conflicted, he stares at the sky with a heavy heart. It's hard to make sense of anything that's happened tonight, and it's even harder to decide how he feels about it. But maybe it's not important. People are counting on him, and that's what really matters. Escape is what really matters. Not the vulnerable, sinking feeling in his chest or the guilt-ridden satisfaction flooding his body with endorphins.
Senku covers his eyes with his arm. If he doesn't escape soon, he's going to lose it. He's already spiraling. But he has to be honest with himself about the circumstances and the observatory he's confined to.
Even though it pains him to admit it, Xeno's cage really is a beautiful one.