When at first given the pilot's position to board humanity's first rocket after 3,700 years in petrification, Ryusui was over the moon. Ecstatic, or in Chelsea's words, "hyped". Astronaut training was easy, with Kohaku keeping up and Senku barely managing to. But when the grenade launcher was introduced, doubts arised. He had a good shot, but there was someone better than him—someone who was kept petrified, a master pilot and marksman—Stanley. Knowing that, he gave up his desire to go to the moon in return for his desire to see humanity achieve victory against this mysterious "Why-Man", against the petrification.

Ryusui was the greediest man, but no one—not even Senku expected this of him. Perhaps this was also greed—to know it was better when someone was more qualified than one already was. At least Francois would say it like that. Even as they came to hear him out while he shot at the targets with a confident smile, he'd put on a brave face for as long as he could.

"Haha! I might've lost my seat on the space rocket, but as the backup, I'd better polish my skills. Just doing my pilot's duty, am I wrong?" Ryusui said, hitting bull's-eye once more. "You can skip the pep talk, Francois." He let his arm fall to rest, his back towards the butler. You came, stood by Francois' side, and simply watched in silence. He knew you were there. You always were.

The blond covers his face with his free hand. "...I wanted this so bad, dammit!" Francois smiles, and leaves a weeping Ryusui and you alone.