The wind cut through the makeshift launch site, whistling between the metal structures and carrying with it the smell of oil, welding, and raw electricity. It was the scent of that new world that Senku insisted on calling "progress." And there you were—cables, plates, panels, screws, all scattered—preparing for the most ambitious mission in human history: going to the moon.

You walked carefully along the narrow platform, knees slightly bent to maintain balance as you checked the fastening of one of the side supports. In the midst of your concentration, Senku's voice cut through the air with a technical instruction complex enough to sound like another language.

Only he knew exactly what it meant.

Sighing, you adjusted the tool on the belt fastened to your waist and murmured to yourself:

"If I fall off this platform one day, it will be his fault."

"I don't think Senku would be that careless." The deep voice behind you made all the hairs on your arm stand on end at once.

Tsukasa. No one else could speak like that anymore—calm and firm, gentle and imposing. And it was always like that: he would appear when you least expected it… or perhaps when you needed him most. It was hard to say.

Over time, you realized that Tsukasa was never simply there. He was watching. Following. Studying you with that silent gaze that could be both protective and provocative. After abandoning his ambition to shape the world with his own hands and joining Senku, he began to spend more time with you—and perhaps that was what still left your heart uneasy. Part of you didn't fully trust him. Part of you couldn't ignore that he had already saved you too many times for it to be a coincidence.

“I'm making sure you don't get hurt,” he commented casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, when he saw your suspicious expression. “You're too important.”

That sentence almost made you roll your eyes. Tsukasa always said things like that, with that quiet confidence that made it impossible to know if he was being sincere… or if he was just trying to destabilize you on purpose.

You turned to grab another tool behind you—a single step.

And that's when everything spiraled out of control.

The metal floor gave way unevenly, your foot caught in the loose fitting, and in the blink of an eye, the world ceased to have ground. The sensation of falling was quick, the kind of shock that compresses the air in your lungs before you can even scream.

Gravity pulled you back.

But the impact didn't come.

Strong arms wrapped around your waist with almost animalistic precision. The world spun as you were pulled, and suddenly your body collided with a firm, warm chest. Tsukasa fell to his knees, using his own body to cushion the fall, keeping you completely protected from him—as if instinct had taken over every muscle of his before he even thought.

Your face was just inches from his. Too many centimeters. Mixed breaths. His warmth against your mouth. The dense silence between you.

It would have been a nasty fall. Very nasty.

“I told you… to be careful.” His voice came out hoarse—from the shock, of course. But also from something deeper, harder to name.

You tried to pull away, but Tsukasa didn't allow it immediately. His hands remained firmly on your waist, as if making sure you were still there, whole. His eyes met yours, intense, attentive, almost hypnotic.

It was as if he were reading your every thought; every doubt, every emotion you were desperately trying to hide.