(Warnings at the end)

The Kingdom of Science was on the move to California. Senku spent a lot of his time in the lab on the back of the ship, mixing various medicines he'd brought supplies for—he had to keep himself busy, right?

Normally the only people to bother him there were Chrome (when he was bored), Suika (if no one else needed her help), and Kaseki (if he had questions about a blueprint). So when Kohaku slipped into the lab, closing the door behind her, he actually paused what he was doing and waited for her to say something.

She stayed by the door, though, silent.

He shrugged and turned his focus back to his work. Maybe she just needed a quiet place to avoid Ginro or something. As long as she didn't bother him, he was fine with it.

"Senku," she blurted after fifty-seven seconds, "can you…?"

Looking over his shoulder at her, he raised an eyebrow, ready to mock her a bit. "Can I…?" But Kohaku just hunched in on herself, not meeting his eyes. It wasn't like her at all. "Hey, what's up?" he asked, setting down his stirring rod and turning down the flame on the burner.

Kohaku just shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, scanning her from head to toe as he walked over to her. No visible injuries, at least.

"No. Well, I don't…I don't think…" She pressed her hands against her stomach, then muttered to herself, "It doesn't make sense. I know what the symptoms mean, but it doesn't make sense."

Senku sighed. Symptoms—was she sick? "So do you want my help or not? Because I'm going to need more than the word 'symptoms' to know how to help."

She looked at him for a long time, blue eyes piercing. Whatever she was looking for, she seemed to see it, finally relaxing a bit. "Yes. Yes, I want your help. If that's okay."

He waved for her to follow him and walked to the part of the lab that was set up for his very unlicensed medical practice. "Sure. Whatever. Tell me what's wrong." He was honestly a bit unnerved by the fact that Kohaku was apparently sick enough to be upset about it—who knew what kind of viruses or bacteria had evolved in three thousand years? If it could take down a lioness like Kohaku, how would the rest of them fare?

"I feel sick to my stomach," she started. "It comes and goes. I would say it's seasickness, but I've been on boats for a long time before without problems, and I'm not throwing up." She frowned and rubbed her stomach again. "It's actually really hard for me to eat anything that's not super bland. I'm always tired but I have trouble sleeping, and I'm also restless all the time."

Senku hummed as he gathered his diagnostic tools, running through probable causes in his head. "No sneezing, coughing, sore throat…?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Headaches? Joint or muscle pains?"

She shook her head.

"How long has this been going on?"

She tilted her head in thought. "A couple weeks. I've been super tired recently, so I wanted to…to check."

"When was your last period?"

And then he was holding his cheek, blinking at the sudden sting—had she slapped him?

"W-what kind of question is that?!" she screeched from her new position on the opposite side of the lab.

"A medical one," he said dryly, rubbing his cheek. Ow. "You're a cisgender woman normally in good health. If there's been a change to your cycle, it's important to notice."

She frowned and glared at him, then slowly answered, "Almost four months ago."

That was…a really long time. "Are your periods normally so long apart?"

Her face was bright red. Apparently she'd never talked about menstruation with a guy before. "It's always like that for me," she managed to say. "Especially when I'm stressed." He was about to ask a follow-up question when she added in rush, "And yes, I have been stressed! I've never left my village for so long before, I miss my sister, and I don't want to ruin this mission somehow."

Well, if her cycle was consistently irregular and affected by stress, her not having a period didn't tell him much.

He almost asked the next question without thinking about it but stopped himself when he felt his cheek throb. If she slapped him over a question about periods, she'd probably kill him if he asked about her level of sexual activity.

But…it was a standard question for a reason. Maybe he could…ease into it? Somehow?

"You won't like this next question either," he warned her. "So don't attack me."

"Why? What's the question?"

He sighed. He knew he had a terrible bedside manner—he was far too impatient for gentleness. Oh, well. "Have you been sexually active in the past year?" He had to rule out pregnancy, STDs, or any number of other things.

Kohaku did not, to his surprise, immediately snap his neck. She did look like she wanted to die, however, practically melting into the wall.

"No," she managed after a moment, her voice shaking in either rage or some other overwhelming emotion. "No, I have not had sex. Ever."

He nodded. And let's never, ever talk about that again, he thought. We need to wake up an actual doctor here pretty soon. I don't ever want to have another conversation like this.

He slowly approached her again, wary of delayed-onset slaps, and took her blood pressure and heart rate (very rudimentary guesses for blood pressure, but it was still good to get a general idea) and asked more specifically about her sleep schedule. For the ten billionth time, he thought about how easy this would be if he had some actual medical equipment to work with or some pre-made medicines. (The ones he was working on were for emergency situations, not everyday pain or nausea relief.) They'd get there, though. Some things just took priority.

In the end, all he could do for her was recommend trying to eat healthy (lots of vegetables, a decent amount of meat, plenty of water or even broth—if she could keep it down, that is) and some low-intensity chores to hopefully burn off her restlessness without adding to her fatigue. "Tell me if something changes," he said as she left. And that was it for a week or so.

It was Chrome, actually, who brought things to a head.

They were all working on the deck, a big loud group of people all having fun and getting minimal work done. Well, Senku was working like normal, but he could hardly change who he was. He was working on mending one of the fishing nets and asked Kohaku to grab him some more rope.

She did so, having to reach past Chrome to get it. With his unique blend of tactlessness and stupidity, Chrome poked Kohaku's stomach, laughing and saying, "Kohaku, when did you get fat?"

Senku immediately winced. Byakuya usually let young Senku figure out social interactions on his own, but he'd explicitly given a few rules to follow. One of them was, "Never ask about or point out a person's weight. It's impolite and can make people very upset."

But Senku figured Kohaku would pound Chrome's head (the guy never learned) and that would be it. He did not in any way expect Kohaku to burst into tears, drop the rope, and run away, which is what happened.

Nikki loomed over a baffled Chrome, one fist already raised. "What the hell did you say to Kohaku?" she said in a low voice.

Senku didn't stick around to see what kind of beating Chrome was in for, instead putting down the net and following Kohaku around the back of the lab. (Everyone else looked too scared to go after her.)

She looked up from where she was sitting on the ground, big fat tears running down her face. "I don't even care about my weight," she wailed. "I know it's stupid. Why am I crying?" And buried her head in her hands and cried on.

Yikes. If Senku had to guess, he'd say her period had finally come around again. Yuzuriha was probably a better choice for comfort, but she was busy—everyone was busy. They didn't have time for this.

But they were all human, after all, and Senku didn't like seeing any friend of his so upset, no matter the cause.

So, sighing, he walked over and sat down beside her. Kohaku immediately scooted so their shoulders were touching and he could see she was trying to calm down. It didn't take long, reaffirming his hypothesis that her emotions were being affected by hormones. She sniffed and rubbed her stomach and he narrowed his eyes as he considered something. She did look like she'd put on some weight, not just on her stomach—certainly not enough to raise health concerns, but with the more stable food sources that the science of agriculture had introduced and the lower level of physical activity needed on the ship, it made sense. But more than that, was nausea still bothering her?

"Have you started feeling better at all?" he asked her. When she looked at him in confusion, he clarified, "You asked me about fatigue and nausea, right?"

"Oh, that. Not really. I mean, the stuff you said to do helps, but it's not going away." She shrugged, obviously resigned to just feeling terrible all the time.

But the circumstances worried him. Weight gain while unable to eat? Uncharacteristic, lasting insomnia? "Any new problems?"

She bit her lip. Ah. Yes, but embarrassing ones. At least to her. She whirled on him, pointing a very aggressive finger in his face and hissing, "I'll tell you, but just because you said…I swear, if you're even a little bit weird about this, I'll throw you overboard!"

"Noted," he said drily. "Now tell me what's up."

She hesitated, her cheeks burning bright red, then stammered out, "M…my…my breasts are…r-really tender. Way more than usual for…for my period. And it's all the time, instead of just a few hours. And my period still hasn't come."

Huh. Honestly, all her symptoms added up sounded like…

He remembered suddenly what she'd said to herself right after she came to the lab a week ago—"it doesn't make sense"—and was starting to understand why she thought so.

Because it sounded an awful lot like possible early symptoms of pregnancy, but she hadn't ever had sex. (He trusted that she was telling the truth, even if people tended to lie about that kind of thing to doctors.)

Or, at least, she didn't remember having sex. "You tend to get black-out drunk at parties, right?" She held her liquor well but accepted literally every drinking challenge she was challenged to. Senku himself had only gotten drunk enough to forget one party, but it was pretty common for Kohaku to drink everyone under the proverbial table and wake up the next day having forgotten the whole thing.

She looked very confused at the change in topic but nodded.

"Afterwards, have you ever woken up somewhere…well, with a guy?"

She flushed and then paled rapidly. "I-I mean…there was…oh, god…you think…"

There was a possibility, then. He really didn't need to know anything else about it, so he said, "So you could, feasibly, be pregnant, even if you don't remember?"

She looked ill. Senku was feeling ill himself. He didn't really want to speculate on who she'd ended up with, but his stupid brain fixated on it—Kinro, maybe? The guy was never at parties for long, though. Gen? Maybe, but for all the guy manipulated people for a living, this didn't seem his style. Not Magma or Ginro, surely—she still had taste, even when drunk. Tsukasa hadn't been awake a few months ago. Ryusui? The guy flirted a lot…

Senku blinked and shoved that entire line of thinking out of his mind. It was none of his business. He didn't care a single millimeter. And Kohaku had been drunk enough to completely forget the whole thing, so her consent in the matter was right out the window no matter what, if it turned out that's what had happened.

Kohaku was crying again, this time very quietly. It was way worse than the loud, open weeping of before—people cried silently when they didn't want to bother people or didn't think there was any kind of help to be had. Which was it for her? Her face was hidden by her hands, but he heard her say, "I think…it might…my period has never been four months late before. It would be almost three months ago now that I woke up with… Does…does that…?"

He sighed. "Yeah, that adds up. First trimester of pregnancy. Nausea, restlessness, lethargy, insomnia, weight gain, tenderness, strong emotional reaction to negligible stimuli."

"Damn it," she whispered in a rough voice. "Damn it. My dad is going to kill me."

Senku snorted. Apparently parents getting upset about babies born out of wedlock was still a thing. "We've got bigger problems than that, lioness." And he knew she was really upset since she didn't react to her nickname at all. "We're in the middle of the ocean heading to an uninhabited continent. Not exactly top-notch neonatal care out here."

"Neo-what?"

Oh, right. "Ah, pregnancy care. For the mom and the baby."

She curled into a tight ball. "I can't be a mom. I'll be a terrible mom."

"I don't believe that for a single second," Senku said, thinking of how good she was with Suika and her diligence for people she loved. "But I get that you're scared."

Kohaku laughed humorlessly and rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Yeah. Scared. Sick. Angry. Tired. All of it."

Angry, huh? "Do you…know who the father could be?"

She nodded and did not elaborate.

Alright. Again, none of his business.

Sniffing, she asked, "Is…is there a way to…not…be pregnant? With science?"

"Abortion? Technically yes. If I had my full lab and enough time to do really thorough tests to be sure I didn't kill or maim you accidentally." He hadn't even started planning out abortion drugs, and they could be dangerous. Poisoning, carcinogens, liver and other organ failure, incomplete abortions or abnormal bleeding—he'd have to avoid all those things, the complications of normal medications along with problems dealing with abortion specifically. And he was not qualified to do a surgical or manual abortion. And she also was already three months into the pregnancy, so the risk of harm to her was greater if he—a guy with literally no practical experience with this, he reminded himself—tried to do anything. Then again, pregnancy and childbirth had their own risks. Maybe the village midwife knew something effective? But they were out of calling range of Japan by now…

She sniffed. "So…what, I'm just…having a baby?"

And she looked so despondent slumped against the wall, her arm still pressed against his. "Not alone," he found himself saying. "You've got me. You've got all of us. The Kingdom of Science doesn't leave people behind." He sighed as he thought. They'd tried to hurry to get to America in time for the fall corn harvest, but if Kohaku was pregnant… "We can head back to—"

"No!" she said emphatically, slapping the deck with her fists and scowling at him. He couldn't help it—he leaned just the tiniest bit away from her. Her eyes burned with determination. "No way. We're not turning this ship around. Not for me. We keep going. The fate of the world is way more important than one pregnant idiot."

"You're not an idiot," he said with a frown. It wasn't her fault some creep had taken advantage of her while she was drunk. Or that she had made a mistake while drunk. Either way, not an idiot. "And I was thinking maybe the village midwife might have a method of abortion figured out, so you don't need to—"

"Senku," she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to go home. I can't…" She blinked rapidly and her hand fell back to her lap. "I don't want to see my dad. Or Ruri. Not now. They'd be so…so disappointed in me." She let her head hit the wall behind her. "And no one in the village knows what 'abortion' is or how to do it. There was a woman who…well, I know they don't." Senku wondered what she meant by that, but decided not to ask. She would've told him if she wanted to.

And he was almost done thinking through the best care he could provide on the ship, so he stood up. "Okay. I have some ideas for taking care of you. Would you be okay if Francois knew about the possible pregnancy?"

"Why?"

"Pregnant people have specific nutritional needs. You're growing an entire human, and eating certain foods will help you." Besides, Francois was a professional chef and a problem solver. If there was a challenge like this, they'd rise to the occasion. "Even if you aren't pregnant, eating good food will probably help you feel better."

Kohaku closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I can…I can do this."

She was, he thought, being exceptionally brave. Fighting an enemy was one thing—dealing with the permanent consequences of a single night's mistake was another thing entirely.

Kohaku pushed herself to her feet, taking a moment to catch her breath—was she blacking out when she stood up? That might signal an iron deficiency. He'd also have to check with Francois about getting folate for Kohaku. Thank goodness they'd planned a greenhouse into the ship design—lots of natural sources of iron and folic acid there.

"If you are pregnant, do you want people to know?" he asked as they started walking.

She shrugged. "I don't know, but I won't be making an announcement or anything. I just don't want…questions."

Senku hummed as he thought of something else. "Is the dad on the ship with us?" She nodded. "What do you want to do if he figures it out?" Assuming most guys knew how pregnancy worked, it would be pretty obvious to whoever she slept with, right?

Kohaku's answering laugh was a bit hysterical. "I don't think he will." Ah. So he was an idiot, then. "But, if he does figure it out, I guess I'll talk about it with him. I can…I can do that." She smiled weakly. "Right? That's a thing I can do, right?"

Senku literally had no idea why she thought it wouldn't be, unless pregnancy was making her feel uncertain, which was entirely possible. Pregnancies were, from what he knew, never the same and often affected people weirdly. "Whatever you want," he said. "I'll help you however I can."

—

Their visit to North America has almost no changes at all and is not worth writing out in detail.

—

Chelsea was a riot. Senku liked her a lot. A grubby little rock gremlin with no filter, but who had enough manners to apologize after she was rude.

Slightly less fun was when Chelsea asked Kohaku when her due date was. (In Byakuya's Social Skills for Senku lessons, that had been another one—never ask a person if they were pregnant. They would bring it up if they wanted to tell you, and if they didn't, it was none of your business.)

The deck got very quiet after that question, as if everyone wanted to know but hadn't wanted to ask.

Kohaku blinked. "My—what?"

"You know, your baby!" Chelsea gestured to Kohaku's middle. "When's it going to be born? Have you picked out any names yet?" And on and on.

It was pretty much guaranteed that Kohaku was pregnant at this point. She had started to show, a pronounced bump on her lower abdomen, so it was maybe inevitable that someone would ask. She looked panicked, though, casting her eyes around until she saw him.

He raised an eyebrow. Did she want to tell people?

He watched her sigh and then shrug with a little smile.

"Sometime in spring," Kohaku said, continuing on her way with the box she was carrying. Senku could see Gen watching with a knowing grin, Ryusui tripping over his own feet dramatically, Kaseki shaking his head, Taiju looking a bit confused. Xeno just looked bored.

"Wait, what?" Chrome said, the hammer in his hand slipping out of his fingers and crashing to the deck. "A baby? You're pregnant?" Tsukasa grabbed him and hauled him away, leaning down to whisper to the shorter man, who was trying to twist his head around to look at Kohaku again.

"How cute!" Chelsea gushed as she grabbed a box so she could trail after Kohaku. "A spring baby!" Luna scrambled after them, and Suika came up beside Senku.

"Hey, Senku," she asked, looking up with her big, innocent brown eyes, "how is Kohaku pregnant?"

Senku was not afraid of many things. He didn't like to back down from challenges. He considered himself, if not brave, than so exceedingly stubborn that he made up for it.

"Ask Kohaku," he said, then walked away.

—

"Is there anything Kohaku desires?" Ryusui asked from where he leaned up against a tree. "That I can procure for her out here, I mean."

Senku was tuning a few components of one of the motorcycles while they rested for the night and snorted softly at the question. Desire? What a luxury. What did Kohaku need? Kohaku needed to not be on the run from a soldier coming after his boyfriend with literal guns and a posse of other soldiers. She needed a more stable food supply than whatever they were able to find as they traveled through unfamiliar territory. She needed her family with her for support.

What she got was a bunch of young adults, a pre-teen, and a person of ambiguous age on a cross-country road trip without the benefit of actual roads.

"Not that she's told me," Senku said. "You should ask her. I'm fixing her bike so it has a smoother ride, though." Kohaku had managed to keep her complaints to a minimum even though he was sure she was incredibly uncomfortable. This was the least he could do. "Hold the light here and I'll get it done faster."

Ryusui picked up the light immediately.

After a few minutes, Ryusui asked, "Are you worried about her giving birth out here?"

Senku stopped and glared at Ryusui, who laughed.

"Ha ha! Dumb question. Of course you are." Then he gently bumped his fist against Senku's shoulder. "We're all here to help, though. Don't forget that."

—

Senku couldn't stop his hands from shaking, which was incredibly dumb.

Kohaku had leaped over a canyon, then caught a falling Suika by cutting a rope and swinging after her.

Obviously, Kohaku was still very much herself—brave and quick and strong.

But he wasn't sure he could handle watching his pregnant friend jump off a cliff again.

Ukyo quietly came up beside him and his stupid shaking hands and handed him a water bottle, which he took out of instinct. At least it kept his hands still. Then Ukyo kept walking beside him, which was a bit unusual. The man usually scouted around as they walked, listening for danger or something they could hunt.

Eventually Ukyo patted his shoulder and said, "Take some deep breaths. She's alright. We won't let her jump off any more cliffs, don't worry." And then he was gone.

—

Taiju was gathering wood and Senku was with him looking for anything edible. Kohaku's appetite was voracious at the best of times, and she had overcome whatever nausea had kept her from eating early in her pregnancy and now wanted to eat all the time.

"I'm so excited for the baby," Taiju said as he picked up branches.

Senku hummed. He wasn't ten billion percent sure about the mushrooms he was looking at and he didn't want to poison her. He'd steer clear of them for now and look for nuts instead.

"I remember hearing something about pregnant women having cravings," Taiju continued, wrapping one bundle of sticks with a rope and starting on gathering another. "Does Kohaku have those?"

"No, but it's pretty common." Of course, she might have them and was keeping quiet about it. She didn't ask for things for herself anyways, and certainly wouldn't while they were in this situation. (It wasn't like catering to cravings had any benefit besides maybe making the pregnant person happy.)

They worked quietly for a little longer. "Hey, Senku," Taiju said, coming to squat right beside him, "I know you probably don't need the reminder, but still, remember that all of us are here to help. We all care about you and Kohaku. Just let us know what you need."

—

Senku watched Luna talk to the others and realized she hadn't said anything about being his girlfriend for a while. Thank goodness. When she wasn't trying to flirt with him, she was pretty nice.

He was therefore surprised one afternoon when she came up to him alone and he braced himself for another extremely awkward conversation.

"Senku," she said, rocking back on her heels, "I wanted to apologize for the…girlfriend thing. I really didn't mean for you to be in an awkward position. I…I just sort of presumed you were available. I promise nothing like that will ever happen again." She gave him a little smile.

Oh. That was a pleasant surprise. "Thanks, Luna."

"Kohaku's lucky to have you," she said, which was a bit of a non-sequitur (suddenly talking about health care?), but she continued, "And I know you have her care all handled, but would you mind teaching me a bit about it? I really do want to be in the medical field, even if it's hard."

An apology and a chance to teach? Awesome. "Sure, if Kohaku doesn't mind."

—

Francois and Senku finished their meal planning for the others and Kohaku specifically, and Senku stretched out his back, sore from being hunched over the table.

"I know you're taking excellent care of Miss Kohaku," Francois said suddenly, "but it's just as important that you get enough food and rest, too. Especially now, before the baby comes. You'll be plenty busy afterwards."

Right. He did his best work when well-rested, and being a doctor to someone was no joke. He'd need to be at his best to handle any complications in childbirth. "Thanks, Francois. I'll keep that in mind."

—

When he wasn't working on the Medusa, Kaseki had started working on a cradle. It was relaxing to sit next to him—sometimes he told stories about when the villagers were young, or explained the kind of joint he was making.

"Senku," he said one evening, working on some detailing, "do you have any ideas for the decoration on the inside of the cradle?"

Senku snorted. "Ask Kohaku."

Kaseki chuckled and gently tapped his chisel a few times. "I did. She thought the forest back home would be nice for the outside."

It was weird that Kaseki was asking for ideas (he was a brilliantly creative guy, after all), but Senku supposed even geniuses needed help sometimes. "Maybe some stars. Or planets." He remembered the glow-in-the-dark stars he'd put on his bedroom ceiling with his dad and smirked—little Senku had made Byakuya place them all correctly in real constellations.

His hands suddenly itched at the memory, and Kaseki would need a pattern or something to follow, right? So Senku grabbed some paper and sketched out the inside walls of the cradle based on the dimensions Kaseki already had, then the constellations of the Southern Hemisphere in March, when the baby would be born. It wasn't completely accurate, but he figured exaggerated star sizes and incorrect coordinates were hardly a concern for something like this. When he finished, he handed the paper to Kaseki. "Like this."

Kaseki looked at the paper, then cleared his throat and said in a thick voice. "It's lovely, Senku. I'll try to capture everything just as you've drawn it."

Senku felt a bit flattered at that. He didn't often draw just to draw, so it was nice of Kaseki to want to copy his design exactly. "I'm excited to see the finished cradle," he said. "I know it'll be ten billion percent awesome."

Which got Kaseki all fired up. The cradle was done well in advance.

—

They were reinforcing one of the walls of the fort, but Senku kept glancing at where Kohaku was slowly helping. No one expected her to help—she was eight months pregnant, for goodness sake—but she was determined.

Tsukasa cleared his throat and Senku glanced at him. "We can handle this. Why don't you take a walk with Kohaku down to the river or something?"

"You sure?" Senku asked. Walking would be good for Kohaku, help her use up her excess energy. (She obviously had plenty.) And he knew he wasn't the strongest, but he was still contributing, right?

Gen nodded from Tsukasa's other side. "Take the chance to relax now, Senku-chan. Have some quality time. We've got this!"

—

—

Senku felt the stone surrounding him shatter and opened his eyes to see…was that Suika? How long had she been awake?

He'd almost gone insane after just six months on his own. Suika was all grown up…

And he knew Suika. She wanted to help, so she would have worked ceaselessly for years. His heart broke for her—she'd saved them all, and who knew what damage had been done to her psyche in the process?

He congratulated her on figuring out the formula so quickly. He was so immensely proud of her.

And she collapsed against him, sobbing and clinging to him. He rested his cheek against her head, just a bit of pressure to reassure her that he was actually awake.

Eventually she calmed down and let go of him. As she wiped her cheeks dry, he looked around. Their friends' statues were lined up nearby, and he could even see Chelsea, so Suika must have found the girls okay.

What a relief—he'd been so worried that Kohaku wouldn't leave with Chelsea and Luna at first, and then worried that their statues would be difficult to find once the petrification had happened. Kohaku had protested loudly about going until he whispered to her what he was worried about: he didn't trust Stanley or his goons not to kill or injure a pregnant woman. She'd gone quiet, one hand resting on her stomach and the baby almost done developing there. She'd left with ferocious scowl on her face, but she'd left.

Senku and Suika whipped up enough doses of revival fluid for everyone before the month was out. He noticed she made an extra and figured she probably wanted one on hand all the time now—good thinking, really. He'd have to do the same.

As they walked back to where the statues were (not near their center of activity, probably for safety), Senku would have guessed Suika would wake up Kohaku next, but she didn't, instead just making her way down the line of petrified people. Actually…he didn't see their lioness at all.

His stomach sank. "Suika," he called, ignoring the cheers and noise of their friends, "where's Kohaku?"

And Chelsea fell uncharacteristically silent and Luna wrapped her arms around herself and looked away. Senku clenched his fists hard enough that his fingernails were digging into the skin of his palms. Something had happened—before the petrification. Had one of Stanley's soldiers broken off and gone after the girls?

Suika looked upset but waved for him to follow her.

Kohaku's statue was a bit away from the others, under a little canopy. She was lying down, arms folded over her stomach. Her face was…restful. It almost looked like she was sleeping. If it hadn't been for Luna and Chelsea's reactions to his question, that's what he would have thought she was doing.

And next to her was the cradle Kaseki had made, and in it a tiny little stone baby wrapped in what was obviously Suika's best attempt at a nice blanket. Senku realized the extra vial Suika had made was probably for the newest member of their crew. He knelt beside Kohaku and scanned her and the baby closely, looking for some obvious wounds like bullet holes.

"I…I didn't know what to do…" Suika said and reached out to brush the smallest speck of dust off Kohaku's forehead. She must have visited her often. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed until now…but if he was honest, he found the petrified bodies of his friends incredibly unsettling and had avoided the area they were set up in entirely. Suika rested her hand on Kohaku's forehead. "If she had the baby, but f-fell asleep, then…"

"She—she died," Luna choked out from a bit to his right. Suika flinched and Senku must've made a face because Luna dropped her gaze to her hands. "I couldn't stop the bleeding. I couldn't pinpoint the cause, and I couldn't stop it. She went into shock and I couldn't do a damn thing about it. I…I wasn't enough. At least…at least the baby was okay…"

Chelsea came up next to Luna and wrapped her in a hug. "She didn't blame you," she said earnestly, her eyes shining with tears. "She wasn't upset." She turned to Senku and explained, "She'd apparently been having contractions and didn't realize they were the actual thing. She…she had the baby an hour before…well, you know." Chelsea sniffed but went on, "We weren't ready. We could hardly do anything." She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry, Senku. I can't even imagine how you're feeling right now, and I'm so incredibly sorry. We did everything we could. I'm sorry it wasn't enough. At least…at least she got to see the baby…"

Senku's mind was racing. Petrification healed wounds. But Kohaku had, apparently, died from shock from blood loss—would the healing do anything?

He snatched the two remaining bottles from Suika's hands—her eyes were full of tears and she was obviously losing hope. Their friends were loosely gathered around and he peripherally registered mournful expressions, Ryusui walking up and setting his hand on Suika's head, Gen kneeling beside an obviously distraught Chelsea who was trying to be brave for Luna, who was trying not to cry.

But Senku never gave up, not even when it looked impossible. He never gave up on his friends. And the petrification had a history of undoing problems like these. He quickly thought through what he could do for Kohaku if she managed to wake up but was still somehow in critical condition.

He called for hot water, for towels or some equivalent, for some food high in protein and carbohydrates. His friends didn't hesitate to spring into action and he almost smiled at the sight of them scrambling around to gather what he needed.

"Senku," Tsukasa said quietly from behind him, startling him. "Just so you know…Hyoga was dead for at least five minutes. And I was bleeding out pretty quickly." Then the man strode off.

Gen, who'd apparently heard, tugged on his sleeve. "Taiju-chan, too," he whispered, something in his eyes haunted and distant. "He…died, too. A-and Ryusui-chan. Not from blood loss, though."

Good grief. Who hadn't been killed? Senku himself had been pretty close to death, he knew—that petrifying wave came just in time.

When they had everything ready, Luna standing by to help with the most determined face he'd ever seen on her, tears streaks still on her face, everyone else a fair distance away but ready to help however needed, Senku poured the first vial over Kohaku's head. (The baby was being cradled by Taiju, far from any depetrification liquid, so they could focus entirely on Kohaku first.)

The wait was the normal amount of seconds, but it seemed like a small eternity to Senku. Come on, Kohaku, he thought. Show us that lioness strength.

The stone finally cracked and fell away.

And Kohaku opened her eyes.

Okay. One step down. Let's keep her alive. He looked over to Luna and nodded, and she quickly went about checking Kohaku (he probably knew more about post-birth care than she did, even with the lessons he'd been giving her, but Kohaku probably would have snapped his neck with her thighs if she woke up with his head between her legs, and he was pretty sure any actual damage would be healed). To keep himself busy, he checked her vitals.

It looked decent enough on his end. When Luna sat back with a sigh of relief, reaching for the towels and water to clean off the blood on Kohaku's legs (blood, inside and out of the body, petrified as well), Senku let himself breathe again.

Suika hurried to help Kohaku sit up, and Kohaku was obviously surprised but very happy to see her little friend again—even if she was all grown up.

Kohaku looked around herself, a frown growing on her face. Senku cleared his throat and gestured for Taiju to bring the little stone infant to her. He did, handling it as gently as if it were flesh and blood and not solid rock as he passed it off.

Kohaku's eyes welled up with tears as she curled a hand under the tiny petrified head.

"We could wait to wake him up," Senku said. "We could find a doctor, build a clinic, make better tools and medicines." It would be years and years, but waiting was an option.

She looked at him with those piercing blue eyes, not saying a word. Then she smiled. "No. I trust you. Let's wake him up."

He held out the second vial. "Do you want to do it yourself?" She shook her head, so he tipped the little bottle over.

He was ready right away to do the Apgar test, even if it was technically too late—it was a test for one minute and five minutes after birth, after all, and they were either an hour or seven and a half years late, depending on how you looked at it. They'd never woken up a baby from stone, though. Who knew what would happen?

"Breathing, heart rate, muscle tone, reflexes, skin color," he muttered to himself. "Focus." The stone cracked and fell away.

Okay. Respirating, but slowly. Breathing score: 1.

He pressed two fingers on the inside of the little upper arm to take the pulse. Hm…98. Heart rate score: 1.

"Can I hold him?" he asked Kohaku.

"Sure," she said, sounding tired. He'd check her more thoroughly a bit later. 'Alive' wasn't synonymous with 'well,' after all.

He picked up the baby, deciding that it was definitely Kohaku's kid—he had pretty good strength for a baby, wasn't floppy, and was pretty wiggly as Senku adjusted him to make sure to support his head. Muscle tone score: 2.

Now reflexes and irritability. He…really didn't want to make this baby cry, actually, but it was important. Carefully, he gently pinched one of the little arms—and the baby scrunched up his little face and gave the most pathetic-sounding cry Senku had ever heard in his life. Reflex score: 2. (Kohaku looked like she wanted to cry herself as the baby wailed, and some of the others looked ready to leap in and lay down their lives for the little guy, if only he'd stop crying.)

No blue extremities. Color score: 2.

Total score: 8. According to the Apgar test, they had a pretty healthy little baby on their hands, and hopefully heart rate and breathing would regulate as the baby 'woke up' a bit more. "Healthy," he said, realizing that his friends were watching him intently, waiting for his verdict. The atmosphere lightened immediately.

Kohaku held out her arms for her baby, so Senku handed him back. She gathered the little guy close with a grateful smile and pressed little kisses to the tiny forehead, all the way up to his thick shock of white blond—white blond—white—

And then the baby in her arms opened his eyes with bleary blinks, looking around himself, calmed down after the very traumatic experience of having someone squeeze his arm a bit. Senku knew babies had terrible vision, so it was probably a coincidence that those eyes fell on him, but it sure didn't feel that way.

(In case there had been any doubt about the paternity of this kid, his eyes were the same weird shade of brown Senku's were, almost red in the right light.)

He understood why Kohaku had thought the dad wouldn't know he was the dad. Senku certainly had no memory of participating in any baby-making activities. He'd gotten drunk enough to forget exactly one party—apparently that had been enough. One night. Presumably one actual instance of intercourse.

Gen was right. Senku had the worst luck.

Kohaku looked up at him. "Oh. Did you figure it out?" she said softly. Which was an incredibly blasé response to him discovering he had a kid.

Someone slapped him on the back. "Congratulations, Senku! And you, too, Kohaku!" said Ryusui with a laugh.

Taiju crouched next to Senku and beamed at him. "Never thought you'd be a dad before me," his oldest friend said. "But I'm happy for you."

Everyone else crowded around Kohaku and the baby, cooing at the kid and congratulating Kohaku and Senku. Even Hyoga was peering down at the little guy, who was looking around with his big eyes.

No one seemed surprised that Senku was the dad.

Had they just…always assumed that was the case? That put a few conversations in perspective, actually. They hadn't been addressing him as Kohaku's doctor, but as the father of her child. As her partner.

After almost a half-hour (in which Senku did very little but sit there dumbly), Gen cleared his throat and clapped his hands. "Come on, everyone, let's give Kohaku-chan and baby-chan some time to rest."

Francois nodded and pulled out a stack of—paper? What? When did they—? "I've prepared lists of supplies for everyone to gather. Suika, we'll need your help for specifics after all this time, of course." And thus Senku found himself digging for root vegetables alongside Gen and Chelsea.

Gen hummed as he worked and Chelsea chattered about the level of organic material in the soil. Senku didn't have a single thought in his head that wasn't pure and utter confusion.

When they had filled the baskets, Gen handed out water bottles (made of wood tubes, courtesy of Suika's awesomeness), and said "Say, Senku-chan—"

"Did you not know the baby was yours?!" Chelsea burst in. Gen hissed something about 'tact' at her but she was focused on Senku.

Senku sighed and looked into the water bottle as if it was hiding the answers to a question he didn't even understand. "No," he said. "I didn't."

Chelsea squinted at him. "So you were taking really good care of Kohaku…just because?"

"She's my friend," he said, scowling at his basket of roots. "I'd do the same for any of you."

Chelsea considered that for a moment. "I guess so. That's kind of just how you are, huh?"

Gen was looking at Senku with a frown. "Didn't you ever ask Kohaku-chan about the father?"

He shrugged. "She said she didn't want to tell him if he didn't figure it out on his own. I didn't…"

I didn't want to know who she liked enough to sleep with, even if she was drunk. I didn't want to push her back to some asshole who didn't appreciate her enough to notice she was pregnant with his kid.

Joke's on me.

Gen was making Senku think and Chelsea was too curious and Senku hated it. He grabbed his full basket and started heading back to their fort.

Chelsea ran up next to him, her own basket in her arms. "She's not mad at you, you know," said the tiny archeologist. "Not even…not even when she died was she mad. Just sad. She…"

Senku wasn't sure he could hear this. "Chelsea," he choked out, "don't."

But she didn't hear him. "She was so upset that you'd never get to meet the kid, and that you wouldn't be able to raise him together."

Senku was very good at not imagining things like Kohaku dying because she gave birth (to his kid, as it turned out), lying in a pool of her own blood. Like that hopeless dread of knowing Stanley and his soldiers wouldn't stop and Senku couldn't figure out how to save all his friends, couldn't get the Medusa to work, but he had damned Kohaku anyways by sending her away. Like the strongest woman he knew bleeding out in the jungle on the opposite side of the world from her family and village. Like the possibility of him raising their kid on his own, or of the kid having no birth parents left alive. He was so good at not imagining all those terrible things in perfect, graphic detail.

"And I guess you're pretty surprised, but that doesn't mean you should ignore her and the kid or anything. Or that you're off the hook!"

Senku gripped the basket tighter.

He was a dad. He…he didn't…he wasn't ready.

"Not like we'll abandon you, of course," continued Chelsea. "We're all in this together! But you gotta step up!"

Kohaku was back at the fort with their child in her arms and he was out picking roots in the jungle in South America. Surreal.

He wanted to be a dad eventually. After building the rocket, after dealing with Why-man, after they really got the world going. His own dad was absolutely amazing. Loving and supportive and weird and wise, and Senku knew he'd never be Byakuya, but he wanted to be like him, and he wanted to have kids and help them figure out the crazy world they lived in and watch them grow and become whoever it was they wanted to be.

But he was a dad now. A dad at…he was nineteen now, right? Okay. That wasn't…ideal, but it was what it was.

He didn't notice he'd stopped walking until Gen was prying the basket out of his arms. "We'll take these back," Gen said, balancing the two baskets. "Why don't you go check on Kohaku-chan, hm?"

Senku found Kohaku in a cabana-looking thing someone had set up, reclined with the baby snuggled against her chest.

She opened one eye and smiled at him. "Hey, stranger."

Alive. Alive, alive, alive. What he said was, "Getting out of work, I see." There was a stool next to her lawn chair-bed thing, so he walked over to sit on it.

She huffed and waved her hand. "I'm seriously so exhausted right now, it's not even funny."

He grabbed her arm before he even registered what he was doing, checking her blood pressure. Lower than normal. Did the petrification replace blood volume? Probably not enough.

She grabbed his hand when he stood back up. "Hey, don't leave. What's wrong?"

You died, he thought. You lost too much blood too quickly and went into shock and died, and I wasn't there to help. "Your blood pressure is low," he said.

She nodded. "Luna said so, too. She told me to rest. Francois is making some more food for me. I have water right here." She patted another one of the water bottles Suika made where it rested by her hip. "And all I want to do is lay here, so I'm not going anywhere."

He swallowed and sat back down.

The baby grunted, shifting on Kohaku's chest. He wasn't strong enough to move his own head around too much, but it sure did look like he was trying.

Kohaku laughed and moved the baby to her arms. A grumpy little face blinked up at the two of them. The kid definitely had Kohaku's frown—all pout.

"Hello, sweetheart," Kohaku crooned, caressing one chubby little cheek. "Hello, darling."

The grumpy look faded and Senku got the feeling that this little guy was about as content as it got. The baby didn't care about high-tech facilities or world-class medical care—he just wanted his mom.

Kohaku looked at Senku then, eyes bright. "Hold him," she said, thrusting the baby towards him.

Senku grabbed the kid out of panic, worried about him falling and getting a head injury at the ripe old age of not-even-a-day-old. "Careful!" he hissed. She smiled smugly at him and he realized she'd done that on purpose to get him to hold the baby—like a quick, strong lioness like her would ever drop her own kid. "You could have asked," he mumbled, knowing full well he probably would have said no, even if he did want to hold the baby.

So he looked down at the little face gazing solemnly back up at him. "Hi, little guy." The kid wiggled. "Whoa, there, watch it," he said, adjusting his arms to hold the baby more securely and tucking the Suika-made blanket more tightly. "No adventures just yet."

Kohaku laughed and reclined again, her head turned to watch them. She looked exhausted and pale, which was not a state he was used to seeing her in, but she still had that smile on her face.

"He needs a name," she said after a while. "Any ideas?"

Senku looked up from where he was examining the teeny-tiny fingernails on one teeny-tiny hand. She was being awfully nice to the guy who had knocked her up and then forgot about it. "You…" he started before losing his nerve and looking back down at the baby, whose eyes had closed again. Dark, long eyelashes rested on chubby little cheeks—adorable and terrifying, this baby was.

"Hm?"

He sighed. "You…want me…involved, then?"

She looked at him like he was an idiot. "Yes. You're his dad."

"We're not…uh, dating or anything."

One of her eyebrows raised. "We have a kid. We're married."

And Senku realized he had no idea how dating or marriage normally went in the village, just that there was the Grand Bout for the Priestess. Apparently, having a kid together met the normal criteria. "Oh," he said dumbly. "Okay, then." Was he upset about that? He looked down at the little button nose of his fulfilled marriage requirement, the shape of the nose more reminiscent of Kohaku than himself. Looking at the baby was easier than meeting her eyes. "If the kid didn't look like me, if it wasn't obvious, what were you planning on doing?"

Kohaku sighed. "I don't know. There were other things to think about, and…I was scared." She snorted lightly. "Still am."

Relatable. He'd had all of a couple hours to get used to the idea of currently having a biological kid and he was impressed that he wasn't paralyzed with fear.

As he shifted his hold on the baby, he remembered their conversation about her not wanting to go home and frowned. "If having a kid means you're married, and you knew I was the dad, why were you worried about Ruri and your dad?"

Her answering smile was weak. "I can be married and still disappoint them with how I got there." Then her smile grew a bit. "And they're your father- and sister-in-law now."

Oh. Weird.

Her smile froze and vanished, replaced with wide eyes and a worried frown. "I mean, if you want. Sorry, I'm assuming a lot here. Obviously we don't have to be married if you don't want to. You don't have to be a dad if you don't want to." She was looking at him like he was going to bolt, like he would throw the kid back at her and gladly have nothing more to do with them.

Senku didn't like that very much—did she think he was that much of an asshole, to abandon her to raise a kid he helped make? But she had said "want to," hadn't she? She didn't want him to resent them, to be an unwanted obligation to him. She wanted a husband. She wanted her kid to have a father. And she thought he was qualified for those positions, despite him doing almost every single thing wrong.

And, if he let himself be honest, he'd liked taking care of Kohaku, helping her. That stupid, stupid little part of him that did things like fall in love had hoped that she'd notice how good he was at taking care of her. When he had been blissfully ignorant of his own culpability in the matter, he'd wanted to prove that he was worth her time and would be good spouse material, rather than whatever jerk she fell into bed with. He'd wanted to prove that he'd be a good dad to her kid.

He shifted the baby to one arm and gently smoothed down his already riotous hair with his free hand (no kid of theirs would have manageable hair), studying the tiny face once more. The kid had a red nevus simplex in the shape of a 'v' on his forehead—some underdeveloped capillaries, probably. He ran his thumb over it gently. It was almost in the same place as his scars. It should fade in a year or so, but Senku would keep an eye on it.

He could picture it, a future with a Kohaku and the kid. Working together. Living together. Being a family. It wasn't terrible or disgusting to him. It just…was. It was a perfectly acceptable option to him.

"I want to," he said, not looking away from the baby.

"Really? You're sure?"

He nodded. This was his baby, too, after all. The terror hadn't left, but…well, Senku had more important things to worry about now, didn't he?

So he took a deep breath. "There's still a lot to do here, lioness. I can't sit around." And yet he didn't move. There were things to do, but he couldn't bring his arms to give up their tiny, enormous burden.

Kohaku hummed and he looked up to see her eyes had closed. Right. She'd died. That took it out of a person. "I'll take the kid for now," he said. "You rest." She hummed again and he reached over to tap her cheek to be sure she was listening. She opened one eye. "I have the kid, okay?" She nodded and her eye fell closed again. Well, he'd leave her to it then.

Maybe this would be how he finally developed a bit of muscle, Senku thought with a smirk: carrying his kid around all the time.

Content Warnings:

Frank discussion of abortion as a possible course of action, which is ultimately not chosen.

Participants in baby-making were very drunk at the time.

Death in childbirth (not permanent).