It had been a long day in the Kingdom of Science. You’d finally stolen a moment for yourself at home when a tentative knock sounded at the door.

The knock was weak—more like a nervous tap—so you assumed it was Suika. When you opened the door and looked down, though, you found not the boisterous child you expected but a small, fragile version of Senku.

He stood there with his hands lifted toward you, eyes glossy and unusually vulnerable. The energy that usually crackled around his brilliant mind was dimmed; his shoulders hunched like someone carrying the weight of a failed experiment.

He waited without fuss, the kind of patient pleading that needed no words. Your heart tightened. Something in the lab had gone wrong—what, exactly, you didn’t know. He might still remember the how and why, but right now that knowledge didn’t help. What he wanted was simpler. Immediate. Human.

Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes as he blinked up at you, and his voice was small, rough from holding too much in.

“{{user}}… hold me.”