Chapter Text
At the end of every day, Taiju could conclude with certainty that he was loved.
A lot of people could, actually, but it was often easy to forget—especially if you weren’t good at remembering the little things that mattered. And while Taiju wasn’t exactly the brightest in the room, he sure didn’t allow himself to forget those little things.
Like, for example, ah…
Oh, right!
Starting with the obvious, not once in his life has he known of Yuzuriha giving a gift that wasn't handmade herself. Quite literally ever—it didn’t matter for whom or for what occasion. If you didn’t trust him on that, you could even ask Senku and his immaculate memory, and he’d tell you the same thing. And, well, even Taiju had figured that that kind of thing was a crazy standard to set for yourself, but at the same time, Yuzuriha was thoroughly dedicated to her craft and the love that came with it; she put her mind to that goal and always delivered.
As a result, even back when they were younger, it made him think about how he, Mr. Simpleton, could possibly make beyond-incredible, oh-so-amazing Yuzuriha feel at least a fraction of what her gifts made him feel. His go-to for Senku was a good ol' hug, sure, but he had always doubted that it was the most suitable strategy when it came to her. For one…
She was a girl.
Second, she was the girl that he was madly, hopelessly, irrevocably in love with. He couldn’t just come onto her so strongly, that’d be putting her on the spot!
So, for years, Taiju did his best to search for every opening and take every opportunity to convey his appreciation and admiration in other ways. (And he hasn’t realized this, but taking that effort was also quite the act of love in itself!) Looking back, he liked to think that doing so got him to improve quite a lot with using his words; the previously lame, impersonal, “You—um, you did great! Thank you for your hard work!” would now sound something more like, “You’re so, so cool, Yuzuriha! I’ve seen you do it a million times, but it doesn’t get old!”
And, yeah, he was more comfortable with hugging her now, but it was nice to have other means of expression in his arsenal.
Taiju was certainly proud of himself for that, but it was safe to say that he was even prouder of his best friend for his development of receiving their love over the years.
Yuzuriha herself wasn’t as averse to open affection as Senku was—far from it, really, but she understood that the best way to crack his shell and really get through to him was through rather unique methods. Particularly, the overlap of their respective passions.
Everyone knew about Senku’s tendency to make horrifyingly specific infodumps in response to even a remotely curious question, but the majority haven’t even seen the worst of it. If it was Taiju or Yuzuriha listening—and they truly would be listening—the sheer length of that monologue would put any Please Meet the Word Count essay to shame. Back then, there was only one person, excluding Senku’s own father, who dared keep that kind of conversation going and emerged successful: Yuzuriha.
It was kind of scary sight, honestly.
Taiju has tried to do it, he really has, but the words just wouldn’t—couldn’t—get through his skull. Not just Senku’s words either; anything Yuzuriha replied that went past “Ooh, and then?” or “What else?” would get into technical details that Taiju didn’t want to fathom.
“I see… a polymer, huh?” Yuzuriha had tilted her head, fully immersed in the impromptu Textile Science class. “I always knew polyester was the most durable, but I never learned why.”
With a chuckle, Senku leaned back into his seat, propping his hands behind his head. “It’s the ethylene glycol. Y’know, from petroleum? Its chemical reaction with terephthalic acid is the secret behind it. Eh, not really a secret, but yeah.”
“Cool!” Taiju said, enthusiastically nodding along, but his mind was thinking anything but “cool.”
I… it… what? Weren’t clothes made from plants? Those chemicals did not sound like plants.
Though, in spite of having to sit through all that with an increasingly dizzy head, never has this made him feel left out. Honestly, he was always just happy to see that look in Senku’s eyes when he was ten billion percent at ease with going crazy.
In fact, he could still remember seeing that look for the first time. After moving in with his grandparents and having to switch schools, making new friends had been difficult, even for someone like Taiju. A few trials and errors later, it was this child prodigy who stuck out the most to him as the best candidate for First Friend.
Eventually Best Friend, too! But that was still a bit later.
Now, while Senku definitely had been the smartest at school, he wasn’t the singular smart kid that existed. Yet somehow, he was also the one who had been least condescending to little Taiju, entertaining questions that the other smart kids had brushed off as dumb. Taiju had followed that head of green hair to the school cafeteria everyday; and while Senku’s sarcastic, snarky remarks weren’t the easiest to deal with at first, it was the sparkle in his eyes when talking about science that served as Taiju’s green flag.
It was the kind of spark that said, Thank you for being here. Thank you for tolerating me. Thank you for being someone with an interest in my passion.
Er, well, that was the gut feeling, at least. He could have very well been wrong.
Good thing he wasn't!
But those questions Taiju used to always ask? They had been dumb. At least, objectively speaking. However, it’s that exact thing that has lead him to his favorite lesson learned from his best friend: he shouldn’t ever feel inferior because there were things he couldn’t do and things he didn’t know.
Obviously, he wasn’t ever told this point-blank—it did take a lot of brain power to read between the lines. But he’d seen Senku recognize, even praise, seemingly small things all the time.
Taiju had even asked about it once, while they were on the way home from school. In response, Senku only raised an eyebrow, pointing to a giant flatscreen TV mounted to the tall building across the street, displaying a flashing ad for a new curry product.
“You think that thing would work if one itty bitty wire was connected wrong?” he deadpanned. “Small components look small in the bigger picture, but if it wasn’t there in the first place, there wouldn’t be a bigger picture.”
“You’re…” Taiju said, eyes going wide as he gasped. “Woah, you’re right, Senku!”
The conclusion in his head: working together yielded better results and bigger accomplishments. And working together? That was something they did a lot of.
Even though he befriended the biggest nerd he had ever met in his life (affectionate), nothing could have ever prepared Taiju for the kinds of things he’d be pulled into. Granted, they were interesting and exciting and unheard of anywhere else, and they made Senku happy. If you asked him, Taiju would call science Senku’s kind of love. His proof: the kinds of conversations they had after a long day.
Just… trust him on this one.
“Senku, do you ever feel bad after having to throw out a failed experiment?” he had once asked randomly, frowning at the bin of scraps in his arms. “It just… kinda feels like a waste.”
Senku glanced over his shoulder. “Huh? Oh, well, a bit, I guess.” He sat up straight, momentarily putting a pause on their clean-up. “It’s not like I don’t know from the start that those things have an expiry date to ‘em. Even if they do work, there’s always a better version of a prototype to be made. You just gotta move on to the next project. It’s only natural.
“Though, you do have a point, Big Oaf,” he continued with a smirk. “Experiments on the level that we do them are both expensive and time-consuming. Not just on my part, but on whoever’s getting the equipment in the first place.”
“So, Byakuya-san?”
“In this case, yeah. Even if he does work at JAXA and everything, acquiring all this stuff is far from easy. Why do you think I’m extra careful when we handle the tools? Gotta put off the inevitable for as long as possible.”
Taiju stayed silent, not exactly sure of how to add to that, but it seemingly prompted Senku to keep talking.
“Y’know, if someone else had adopted me,” he said, voice suddenly quiet, “I doubt I would’ve been able to pursue science. Not to this degree, at the very least. And if that were the case, I… I don’t know what I would’ve...“
A pained, choked sound came from him, along with a sudden shake of the shoulders that absolutely shattered Taiju’s heart.
In remedy, he slapped his best friend hard on the back, forcing out a strangled cough from his lanky frame.
“Well, it’s a good thing you do have your dad, right?” Taiju hoped his grin was wide enough to make Senku think that his reddened, scrunched up face was completely unnoticeable. “I’ll be sure to text him a big thank you as soon as possible!”
“Okay, yeah, no. Don’t do that,” Senku managed out with a strained chuckle. “He’ll ask a bunch of questions and be super weird about it. Ugly sight.”
So yes, while Taiju could listen and show interest all he tried, he knew Byakuya was the best at using science to make Senku’s heart happy. The other awesome thing? He wasn’t just good at Senku’s kind of love, but he was good at his and Yuzuriha’s kinds of love too!
The amount of times Yuzuriha had come home with a shiny new sewing kit or expensive roll of fabric was… well, endearing, to say the least. To her parents, though, it was almost embarrassing to have their daughter be so spoiled by her best friend’s single father.
Additionally, Taiju didn’t really like ranking moments, with Byakuya or with anybody, but one memory during a sleepover at their house always stuck with him. Especially since it was one of the few times he was home, too.
“Can’t sleep?”
Twelve year-old Taiju had stopped mid-reach for the milk carton in the fridge, turning to the voice’s owner with a sheepish smile. “Kinda… but mostly hungry,” he admitted. Then pouted. “What are you doing awake at one in the morning, Byakuya-san?”
The older man only laughed heartily. “I’ve got some work left to cram. But hey, if you need something, I’m at your service.”
Extremely tempting offer.
“Uhh… cup noodles?” Taiju suggested eventually, mostly as a question. “If that’s—“
“More than fine!” Byakuya grinned, already weaving past him to get the the cupboard where their kettle was tucked in. “I’ll start boiling water, yeah? You can pick from the flavors we have in the pantry.”
“Really? That’s awesome, thank you, Byakuya-san! Thank you!”
It had really hurt when Senku first told him what must have happened after the petrification.
But Taiju was thankful every single day to know that, despite their loss, the three of them weren’t alone in the new world. They had all these new friends—and they had each other. He found it kind of difficult to admit, surprisingly, since saying it like that made it sound too obvious. Taiju’s style was more… unfiltered, raw, and required less thinking. So sometimes, just sometimes, it made him wonder if he should be trying harder.
Then he had heard his best friends talking from outside Senku’s workshop one day. And oh, he truly, from the bottom of his heart, didn’t want to invade their privacy, but he heard his name and just—
“Taiju-kun… he gives the best hugs, don’t you think, Senku-kun?”
“Sure, if you consider soul and bone crushing to be the criteria of a good hug.”
For a moment, they were silent. Taiju was about to consider the conversation over, but Senku spoke again:
“Ugh, don’t give me that face. Yes, I consider it a damn good hug.”
Oh, how hard it had been to hold in the tears.
He couldn’t craft meaningful, detailed gifts out of nothing like Yuzuriha, nor think ten billion and a half steps ahead to ensure his loved ones’ happiness like Senku, but Taiju could be himself. He was free to love the way he knew how to, and that “little” thing was more than enough.
So yes, Taiju knew very well that he was loved—but he also knew that he would never get tired of loving in return.