.☾

It was late at night, the moonlight outside the window barely filtering through the thick clouds, casting a faint glow on the distant surface of the lake. Inside Senku's small lab, the flickering light of a flame reflected off glass bottles, old machines, and scattered sheets of paper filled with notes on the table. Senku was absorbed in his work, his hands busy with a scientific instrument, while his mind raced with formulas.

Toya entered without knocking. Her footsteps glided softly across the stone floor, making only the faintest sound, almost imperceptible to anyone except the most alert. Senku glanced over at her without surprise; she often appeared unexpectedly like this.

"I feel like everyone is treating me like I'm going to break if they say the wrong thing," Toya spoke up, her voice tinged with both sarcasm and frustration.

Senku carefully set the test tube down, turned, and looked directly at her. "Maybe it's because they think you're already broken enough."

Toya laughed, a short, humorless laugh. Her raven-colored eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and mockery. "What about you? Don't you feel guilty, letting someone who's 'broken' like me wander around your lab?"

Senku shrugged, his gaze devoid of pity or hesitation. "I only pay attention to people if they have value. And you, Toya, have value. As long as you don't mess up my world, I'll keep using you."

Toya squinted at him, her lips curling slightly into a small, amused smile. "There, you just said exactly what I needed to hear. No pretenses, no pampering. I'll try not to ruin your plans, just because you're being honest with me."

.☾

The room fell silent for a moment, only the occasional crackling of the oil lamp breaking the stillness. Toya leaned on the table, her eyes fixed intently on a piece of paper filled with formulas.

"Have you ever thought about the people who can't come back?" she asked, her voice so soft that Senku had to glance up to make sure he hadn't misheard.

Senku paused briefly, his gaze thoughtful. "Occasionally."

"And what do you do with that feeling?"

"I move on." He answered briefly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Toya laughed again, this time with a hint of bitterness. "I guess, to you, emotions are just like an equation. Find the solution, and it's done."

"Not exactly," Senku responded, his voice dropping a little, more serious. "But emotions don't make this world better. Only actions do. If you're just going to sit here and complain, I don't have time for that."

.☾

Toya gazed at the cloudy night sky. The clouds were heavy, almost like they were filled with water, and she wondered when they would burst, releasing their gray torment onto the world below.

"Senku, aren't you tired?" Toya asked, breaking the silence.

Senku looked up from his drawing full of formulas and diagrams. His eyes shone in the firelight, like two glowing red jewels. "Am I tired? Yes. But being tired isn't a reason to stop."

Toya let out a small chuckle, leaning back against the tree behind her. "You always have textbook answers, huh? Do you ever stop and ask yourself where you're running to?"

Senku didn't respond immediately. Instead, he quietly folded up the blueprint, set it aside, and sat facing Toya. "I think about the goal. As for the destination... that's for later."

"Does the destination not matter to you?" Toya raised an eyebrow, a hint of dissatisfaction in her voice.

Senku gave a small smirk. "If I stopped to think about how everything ends, then who would worry about the next steps? We need science, Toya, not meaningless philosophical questions."

Toya fell silent, staring into the flickering flame.

"Do you really believe that?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Of course," Senku replied without hesitation.

Toya didn't respond right away. Her gaze never left the dancing light. "But if everything you do is just to rebuild civilization, then... is that enough?"

Senku furrowed his brow, leaning his head toward Toya. "Are you talking about the meaning of life? Or some silly philosophical nonsense like that?"

"No," Toya shook her head, her voice soft but firm. "I'm just wondering, if humanity keeps repeating its past mistakes, will your efforts really change anything?"

The question made Senku pause. Toya rarely showed this kind of intensity, but when she did, her words always gave him a headache.

"I'm not doing this to change human nature," Senku said slowly, as though carefully weighing his words. "I'm doing this to give them a chance. Whether they make mistakes or not, that's up to them, not me."

Toya smiled faintly, the smile hard to read—whether it was one of appreciation or mockery. "Sometimes I think you're so cold, Senku."

"And sometimes I think you're too theoretical," Senku shot back, unfazed.

.☾

Time passed in silence. Senku returned to his technical drawings, while Toya sat still, seemingly lost in thought.

"Do you ever doubt yourself?" Toya suddenly spoke up, breaking the quiet atmosphere.

Senku looked up, his eyes curious. "Of course. But I don't let it stop me. You should try it, Toya. Thinking is good, but don't let it make you a prisoner."

Toya was quiet, her eyes locked onto Senku. For a moment, it felt as if they were locked in a silent mental battle, even though no words were exchanged.

"You don't understand, Senku," Toya said, her voice quieter now. "There are things you can't solve with formulas or logic."

Senku smiled, tilting his head as he looked at Toya. "Then how do you solve it? With emotions? With faith? Honestly, I've never been good at those things."

"And that's why you'll never see things the way I do," Toya responded, her smile unreadable.

.☾

Toya leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Sometimes, I wish I could be like you, just brush aside all emotions and keep moving forward. But I can't stop questioning the things I've done. Sometimes I wonder, are they right? Looking back, I feel like I'm already broken."

Senku didn't answer immediately. He picked up the test tube again, carefully pouring a liquid from another glass bottle. In that moment, he seemed completely absorbed in his work, ignoring her presence.

Finally, he spoke, but without looking at her. "You're not broken. If you were truly broken, you wouldn't be sitting here questioning yourself. People who are really broken feel nothing anymore, Toya. They're just empty shells."

Toya straightened up, staring intently at Senku. Her eyes seemed to shine with curiosity, as if this was the first time she'd seen him speak something genuinely sincere. "So you think I'm still whole?"

Senku gave a smirk. "You're the only one who can answer that question. But from what I see, you're still whole enough to cause trouble."

.☾

"One more thing," Toya said, her voice more serious now. "Do you trust me?"

Senku turned to look at her, his gaze sharp as a laser. "Trust? That's an interesting question."

She waited, but he didn't answer immediately.

"Partially," he said finally. "I trust that you won't do something stupid enough to ruin everything we've built. But trust that you'll always be loyal? Not a chance. Full trust is something I can't give to someone who doesn't truly trust me."

Toya nodded slowly, her eyes glinting with an unusual spark of hope. "That's enough."

.☾

As Toya stood up and left, the light from the oil lamp cast her slender figure in shadow, making her seem like a mournful ghost slipping through the door. Senku watched her for a while before returning to his work.

In his heart, he knew Toya was a great unknown. An unknown that was both dangerous and useful. But like any problem he had ever solved, Senku always had a way to handle things if they got out of hand.

On the other side of the door, Toya paused, taking a deep breath. She wasn't sure what had kept her here, among these people. Maybe it was their straightforwardness. Or maybe, because they were the only ones who, despite not fully trusting her, didn't abandon her either.

She walked away, leaving behind a room full of scientific formulas, carrying with her a little peace after the long days of turmoil.

.☾