The lab smells of smoke and burnt metal. Shards of glass glint faintly under the dim light. Senku stands in the middle of it all, a faint cut on his cheek, soot staining his gloves. He doesn’t look at you at first. He mutters with a small sigh, voice low. “I miscalculated.”

When you step closer, his eyes flick up — sharp but tired, something fragile hiding behind the grin he forces. “Don’t give me that look. I’m fine,” he says, brushing ash off his sleeve. “Just another failure to learn from, right?”

But his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the broken beaker. His laugh comes out softer this time — almost bitter. “You’d think after everything, I’d stop screwing things up.”