In Theory [Senku x Reader]

0.7 | Holding On

You were, quite frankly, a little more preoccupied with not becoming lion chow, but the words formed instinctively anyway.

"It's obviously a descendant of a zoo animal," You state, your breath coming in sharp, controlled exhales. "When humanity was petrified, the enclosures weren't maintained. Without human intervention, they got out and just... kept going."

And really, the implications were staggering. How many other species had been left unchecked? What had Japan's ecosystem become without human interference? How many apex predators are prowling the ruins of civilization right now?

Questions you had previously shoved to the back burner—when the priority had simply been not freezing to death—now roared to the forefront with startling clarity.

Senku let out a sharp huff, very much dying from the exertion. "Without humans keeping them locked up, all the herbivores were on the menu. And once they got out into the cities, it must've been a pet buffet."

Taiju let out a horrified noise. "That's horrible!"

You winced, sidestepping a gnarled root. "Not inaccurate, though."

Senku coughed out a sharp, breathless laugh—the kind only he could manage in a scenario this dire. "Exactly. What I'm saying is—humans aren't at the top of the food chain anymore!"

The weight of those words settled uncomfortably in your chest, but there wasn't time to dwell on it. Your lungs burned, your legs screamed in protest, and every pounding footstep sent a fresh jolt of exhaustion through your body. The humid air stuck to your skin, sweat dripping down your face as your brain worked double-time, scrambling for a way out of this life-ending situation.

Think.

Dirt and dust kicked up beneath your feet. The air was thick with the scent of damp bark from last night's rain, mingling with the sharp tang of crushed leaves.

You forced three fingers up to your face—thumb, index, and pinky—an old childhood habit, as if the motion alone could will an answer into existence.

Something. Anything. There had to be a way out.

Your eyes darted over the terrain—roughly patterned trees, jagged rocks worn by improper erosion, vines snaking low from the canopy, serrated leaves evolved over centuries to cut through flesh.

And then it hit you.

Your eyes widened. "If we keep running—we're gonna hit a cliff soon!"

Taiju audibly choked. "What?!"

Senku barely faltered in his stride, but his expression turned sharp. "Tsk. That makes sense."

Taiju did not seem to agree. "No, it doesn't make sense! What part of 'running off a cliff' is a good thing?!"

You sucked in a breath, pulse hammering. "Because—if we time it right, we can use it to get away! The lion won't risk the jump, but if there's water or an outcrop below—"

Senku smirked despite himself, eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to amusement. "Ready to go sky diving?"

Taiju wheezed. "Alright—I trust you guys!"

The next growl was closer, the vibration curling around your ribs like a warning.

You ran faster.

The trees thinned.

The pounding of your feet against the earth felt deafening, but even louder was the deep, bone-shaking growl closing in behind you. The air was thick with adrenaline, your pulse hammering in your ears as the incline ahead sharpened.