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“Pensaste que la vida era más corta,
como para cumplir tu promesa de amarnos para siempre”.
—La vida era más corta, Milo J.
That day, the world was not silent, but to Senku it seemed to be.
The rain fell gently, trying to wash away the sadness in the air and carry away a pain he could not name.
People moved around, covered with umbrellas, with downcast eyes and awkward gestures of comfort. Whispers reached his ears, but no one dared to get too close to Senku, who remained motionless, his fingers clenched around an urn.
No one knew what to say to him. And even if they had known, it wouldn't have mattered, because Gen Asagiri—the only one who could read his silences—was gone.
And Senku Ishigami was holding his remains.
Staring straight ahead without blinking or moving, Senku's brain seemed to have frozen completely.
And the urn he held in his hands was too heavy.
-Senku...- Chrome approached him, whispering. -You don't have to do it if you don't want to.-
Senku didn't respond, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't. He couldn't make out faces or voices; white noise flooded his senses.
He only knew that he was there, holding the last thing he had left of Gen, that manipulative, lying idiot who made him roll his eyes and click his tongue while hiding a smile that only Gen could read.
-Senku,- Kohaku insisted, approaching him. -Let us help you...
He shook his head, barely moving it, and his fingers tightened around the urn.
The attendants pointed to the stained glass window in front of him. It was a polished square in the white wall, lit by candles inside; the design was beautiful. A “dignified” resting place.
Senku thought how stupid that was... although Gen would surely have liked it.
With heavy, mechanical steps, he moved forward. His mind desperately tried to operate as usual: analyzing and calculating the situation. He needed to rationalize. Still, nothing worked.
Gen was gone. And there were no equations to explain that.
He placed the urn inside the stained glass window; the echo of the glass touching the base sounded too loud. He took a few steps back and kept his eyes fixed on the urn.
People began to say their goodbyes, and little by little, the murmurs began to fade away. Then, the click of the glass door closing sounded like a sharp blow to his chest, and Senku's knees buckled under his weight.
One click.
And the world stopped.
Senku let out a stifled sigh. His throat closed up as if he were being strangled, and for a moment, he felt like he was going to faint.
-We should go home, Senku,- Chrome said sadly.
But Senku didn't hear her.
Then something snapped in his brain.
-What the hell?- he muttered, his voice breaking. -Stop joking around, Gen... don't play with me...
A deep, hoarse laugh came out of his throat. Senku began to laugh frantically.
-This is a damn joke...-he repeated like a mantra as he laughed and shook his head frantically.
Chrome looked down as thick tears began to fall down her face. Kohaku bit her lip, trying not to sob.
Senku put a hand to his chest as if pain were piercing him; his eyes filled with tears and his breathing became irregular.
-Damn it, Gen...-he whispered, stopping laughing. -You said you were going to mess up my whole life... you...
He didn't finish the sentence as a small sob escaped his throat. Kohaku and Chrome looked at him with pity, but before they could say anything, a second sob surprised them with its volume and how broken it sounded. It made their bodies tremble.
And then Senku burst into tears. He, who never showed weakness, who always calculated before feeling, who carried the future without batting an eye, was hunched over on the ground, digging his fingers into the damp earth as a harsh, pain-filled cry escaped from his soul.
It wasn't a pretty or controlled cry; it was the cry of someone who never learned how to cry... and now couldn't stop.
-Don't leave me alone...- he pleaded. -You promised you wouldn't leave me alone in this world...
Chrome tried to approach him to comfort him, but Kohaku stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
-Leave him alone,-he whispered. -He has to say goodbye...
Senku leaned forward until his forehead touched the ground. His shoulders shook and screams escaped his throat without permission, without logic, and without any science to contain them. His tears mixed with the rain.
Then he understood.
Gen would never again walk behind him making absurd comments to irritate him. He would never again interrupt him with tea in the middle of a complicated experiment. He would never again hold his gaze when everyone else grew tired, or tease him about his obsession with numbers.
And he wouldn't comfort him this time either.
Kohaku took a step forward, but Chrome grabbed her arm to stop her. They both looked at him helplessly as Senku clung to the ground as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.
For the first time since he had awakened, Senku felt truly alone. Not like when he discovered that Byakuya was gone, nor like he had been in the silent early mornings in the lab. This was different; it was like losing a part of himself.
And for the first time, he understood that there was no formula in the world capable of fixing something like this.