[Dr.STONE] Whispers of a Fragile Thread.

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Toya didn't really like the afternoons in this strange world. When the sun was no longer blinding, the wind usually had a salty taste.

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The pale yellow of the setting sun reflected on the wooden roof, flowing down the porch, dripping onto the rope ladder, and pooling on the ground. Senku sat next to a pile of pottery still being fired, his eyes focused on the reactions of the experiment in the furnace. His face was calm, but his mind was like a machine, always running.

Not far away, Toya perched on a low branch, carefully weaving threads to form a small net. She wasn't in a hurry, not paying attention to anything else around her. Every time the wind blew, a few strands of white hair would fall over her eyes, but Toya didn't bother brushing them aside. She liked how her hair draped over her shoulders, no matter how annoying it was.

"Senku-san," Toya suddenly spoke, her voice soft as a breath. "Do you think everyone has a dream inside them?"

Senku didn't look up, his hands still busy checking an experiment. "Of course. But most of them are stupid."

Toya chuckled softly, a smile that was unclear whether it was agreeing or mocking. She looked down at a small bowl of soap bubbles she had just made, not afraid to touch it, and blew out a cluster of bubbles. The shimmering bubbles floated gently into the air.

"Each one is a dream," Toya said, her eyes following the fragile bubbles. "Do you see? They carry hope... but then they disappear."

Senku raised an eyebrow, glancing at Toya as if evaluating her. "What disappears is meaningless. A real dream needs science to make it come true."

Toya didn't reply, only tilted her head, watching the last bubble burst in the air. She returned to her work, as if Senku's answer wasn't enough to break her wandering thoughts.

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Night fell over the forest, and everything became quieter. The fire crackled in a small campfire near the humble treehouse where Senku was experimenting with something else, trying to make something useful out of crude materials. Toya lay on the roof, hands behind her head, staring up at the starry sky.

"Hey, do you know?" Toya suddenly broke the silence. "If you look long enough, you'll see the Earth rotate."

Senku stopped what he was doing and looked back at her with a puzzled expression. "That's an interesting lie."

"It's not a lie," Toya replied calmly. "All you have to do is close your eyes, then open them again, and you'll see the stars in a different position. Doesn't that mean the Earth has rotated?"

Senku smirked, a glint of interest flashing in his eyes. "I'll assume you just invented a way to simplify all of astronomy."

Toya smirked but didn't respond. She stretched her hand toward the sky, as if trying to grasp the distant stars.

"I can reach the whole Milky Way," she said, her voice soft but certain. "As long as I believe my hand is longer than it really is, everything becomes easier."

"Sounds like the cheap philosophy of a dreamer," Senku remarked, his voice flat.

"Dreaming is the foundation of science," Toya shot back immediately. "If no one dared to think they could reach the stars, do you think humanity would have ever walked on the moon?"

This time, Senku didn't reply. He returned to his work, but there was a strange flicker in his eyes. Senku, whose mind was usually as calm as a flat sea, suddenly felt waves stirring with Toya's words.