Chapter 6

{A/N: Oh yeah its all coming together. There will be a few more chapters before petrification. On a side note I read the side story Dr. Stone Reboot: Byakuya and I reckon I'll make it cannon in this fanfiction, btw definetely I definetely recomend giving it a read.} 

"Yes! Finally!" Zoe leapt from her chair, pumping her fist in triumph before quickly composing herself. She settled back into her seat, the blue glow of multiple monitors illuminating her focused expression as she ran final diagnostics.

Over a year of relentless work had culminated in this moment, the fans of her custom-built computer whirring in protest against the complex calculations it was processing.

During the first months after moving in with Byakuya and Senku, she had maintained a careful balance—visiting dojos across the city by day and coding deep into the night. As she exhausted the nearby training facilities, her trips required more strategic planning, allowing her to dedicate additional hours to perfecting her program.

Her dual passions had evolved in parallel; each fighting style she mastered seemed to unlock new patterns in her thinking about code optimization.

Lines of code cascaded across her primary monitor as her algorithm parsed market data at unprecedented speeds. On a secondary screen, a simple graph displayed her virtual funds—steadily climbing with occasional dips but maintaining an undeniable upward trajectory. Zoe's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile before a concerning noise from her CPU fan caught her attention.

She grimaced at the system performance metrics. The custom rig she'd assembled from components purchased with underground fighting earnings and well placed investments was struggling to keep pace with her ambitions.

Quickly accessing the source code, she implemented efficiency protocols to reduce the maximum load before restarting the program. The profit curve flattened slightly but continued rising as her computer's fans quieted to a more reasonable hum.

Satisfied with the temporary solution, she pulled her laptop closer to work on optimization strategies. The physical limitations of consumer hardware were becoming her primary constraint—a problem that would require creative engineering to overcome.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Swivelling in her chair, she reached for a remote control positioned precisely at the edge of her desk. With the press of a button, a small robot stationed by the door whirred to life—her first mechanical creation, now upgraded with several iterations of improvements since her initial prototype.

It stumbled forward to unlock the door with endearing awkwardness, its movements reflecting the constraints of what she could build with limited resources.

"Come in, it's unlocked," she called, her eyes still scanning lines of code.

The door swung open as Senku entered, arms laden with electronic components and a laptop balanced precariously atop the pile. He navigated around the robot with practiced ease before depositing his collection onto her bed.

"Zoe, could I get your help with something?" he asked, his voice carrying that familiar blend of determination and curiosity that had become comforting to her over the past year.

She stood and moved closer, genuinely interested in what her adoptive brother was working on. Their relationship had evolved considerably since those first awkward meals together in the kitchen.

"Is that an old gaming console?" she asked, examining the partially disassembled device. "What are you trying to accomplish?"

Senku opened his laptop, turning the screen toward her. "I'm modifying its software to run data analysis for my main computer. The processing power is actually impressive for the price point."

Zoe took his laptop, quickly scanning the code. In the year they'd lived together, Senku had progressed remarkably in his technical abilities—though she remained several levels ahead. She began making adjustments, her fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced precision.

While she worked, Senku wandered toward her monitors, eyes widening as he observed the complexity of her own project.

"What the—Zoe, what even is this?" he asked, baffled by the intricate patterns of code. "The architecture is insanely complex."

She glanced up momentarily. "That's just a project I've been developing. Check the user interface window if you want to see what it does."

Following her instructions, Senku opened the smaller application window. His jaw dropped as understanding dawned. "Holy—is this real? Are these actual market transactions?"

"They are," she confirmed, still focused on fixing his code. "Though most of that balance comes from strategic investments I've made throughout the past year. The algorithm itself has only generated about five hundred dollars so far."

"Still..." Senku murmured, clearly impressed. Zoe felt an unexpected warmth at his recognition—something she'd gradually become more comfortable with since joining their family.

"Anyway," she redirected, "come look at this. I found the issue with your code."

Senku moved beside her, and for the next hour, they worked together on his project. The collaboration flowed naturally now, their initial awkwardness long since replaced by mutual respect and genuine camaraderie. His questions were incisive, her explanations precise—their dialogue a specialized language few others could follow.

Eventually, she shooed him good-naturedly from her room, closing the door and leaning against it briefly. The Ishigami household had become more of a home than she'd initially expected, though she maintained certain boundaries that Byakuya and Senku had learned to respect.

Her gaze drifted to the small robot still positioned near her desk, its rudimentary sensors whirring as it attempted to untangle itself from a power cord.

'I haven't scheduled any dojo visits recently,' she thought, tapping her chin thoughtfully. 'And now that my trading algorithm is functional...'

She watched the robot struggle against the cord beneath her desk, an idea forming. "Perfect timing for a new project," she murmured, crossing the room to rescue her creation from its predicament.

Setting the robot on her secondary workbench—equipped with specialized tools she'd acquired through her fighting winnings and stock profits—she began methodically disassembling it. 'I could add a mechanical arm with a simple grasping mechanism,' she considered, mentally designing the upgrade. 'Something to fetch tools while I'm working on other projects.'

Hours dissolved as she immersed herself in the mechanical challenge, her mind shifting effortlessly from abstract code to physical engineering. The meditative focus required for precise soldering rivalled the concentration she employed in martial arts—each discipline reinforcing the others in ways that felt increasingly natural.

**********************

Four years later, Zoe sat surrounded by advanced electronics that would have been unrecognizable to her younger self. Behind her, multiple custom-built computers hummed efficiently, executing her proprietary algorithms across global markets. Before her, sparks flew as she soldered a micro-motor to a specialized circuit board, her hands perfectly steady as she worked.

Her dexterity—already exceptional when she first arrived at the Ishigami home—had been honed to supernatural precision through thousands of hours of martial arts training. She completed the final connection with microscopic accuracy, then powered down her soldering equipment and leaned back in her ergonomic chair.

After three days of virtually uninterrupted work, even her enhanced physiology demanded respite. Her stomach rumbled in protest just as a familiar mechanical whirring approached her door. The door swung open smoothly, admitting what appeared to be a robotic dog carrying a tray balanced perfectly on its back.

She smiled with quiet pride at her creation. "Bots, come here."

The quadrupedal robot's sensors tracked her voice, adjusting its trajectory with fluid precision that bore no resemblance to the stumbling prototype of years past. Its movement algorithms incorporated principles she'd absorbed from countless martial arts forms—balance, efficiency, adaptation.

Taking the meal from the robot's stable platform, she began eating while simultaneously pulling up her schedule on a nearby tablet. 'Two hours until my appointment at the dojo,' she noted. 'I should check on Senku before I leave.'

After finishing her meal, she set the plate aside and stretched muscles stiff from prolonged stillness. She placed the dishes in the kitchen sink and made her way upstairs, pausing briefly outside Senku's door before knocking.

A commotion greeted her knock, followed by Taiju's unmistakably enthusiastic voice. "Come in!"

Pushing open the door, she discovered a room transformed into something between a laboratory and a workshop. Equipment and components covered every available surface, while detailed schematics papered the walls and floor.

In the centre of the controlled chaos stood an anatomical model marked with precise annotations. Nearby lay what appeared to be a black bodysuit interwoven with complex circuitry.

Her trained eye immediately assessed and catalogued the scattered schematics, her mind assembling the fragmentary designs into a comprehensive whole. As the complete concept took shape in her understanding, she identified a critical flaw in the calculations.

"Senku," she observed, "your response-time estimates for muscle activation are off. You haven't fully accounted for the natural delay of organic systems."

Senku glanced up from his work, quickly locating the relevant document and scanning the calculations. Meanwhile, Zoe noticed Taiju connected to several electrode pads, his limbs twitching involuntarily as the system tested muscle responses.

"Oh, hello Taiju," she greeted, belatedly remembering social protocols. "How are you doing?"

The good-natured teenager grinned broadly despite the occasional muscle spasm induced by the electrodes. "I'm great, Zoe! Everything's awesome!" His enthusiasm remained unchanged from when she'd first met him years ago—a constancy she found oddly reassuring in a world where she constantly pushed boundaries.

She moved to Senku's side, tapping a specific equation on his notes. "This variable should be adjusted to account for the delay I mentioned."

Senku made the correction swiftly before transferring the updated calculations to his computer. "Thanks, Zoe. Did you need something?"

"Just checking in before I head out," she replied, observing his work with genuine interest. Their relationship had evolved into a comfortable dynamic—she remained the more advanced intellect, but his growth had been remarkable, the gap fluctuating over the years as Zoe immersed herself in different projects.

"I'll be gone for a couple of hours," she added, already turning to leave. "Good luck with the project."

Descending the stairs, she collected her specialized training bag and prepared to depart. 'My last dojo visit,' she reflected as she began her customary run across the city, her pace gradually accelerating to speeds that would have qualified for Olympic records had anyone been timing her.

The exertion barely registered as she maintained the pace that had become second nature. Small beads of perspiration were her only concession to the physical demands as she arrived at an isolated traditional dojo on the outskirts of the city.

Pushing open the weathered wooden door, she was greeted by an elderly man practicing with chain weapons, small blades affixed to the ends glinting in the diffused light.

"Ah, Zoe," he acknowledged without pausing his fluid movements. "I've heard much about you from colleagues throughout the region. How many dojos remain on your list?"

Taking off her shoes at the entrance, Zoe approached the weapons rack and selected a training kyoketsu-shoge. Testing its weight and balance with a few experimental movements, she compared it mentally to other chain weapons she had mastered.

"Surprisingly, yours is the final dojo on my list," she replied, continuing her assessment of the weapon. "After today's session, I will have studied every fighting style available in this region. This weapon is related to the kusarigama, correct?"

The elderly master executed a complex manoeuvre before responding, the chains whirling around him with controlled precision. "Indeed. I personally prefer the kyoketsu-shoge for its versatility and lighter weight. Easier on aging joints," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Zoe mirrored his stance, her body intuitively adapting to the weapon's requirements. "Makes sense. Shall we begin?"

At her readiness, the master initiated the exchange, sending one blade hurtling toward her with deceptive speed. She deflected it precisely with the ring at the end of her chain, simultaneously sidestepping as he retracted the weapon, its crescent blade slicing through the space she had occupied a fraction of a second earlier.

Adrenaline sharpened her senses as she catalogued his techniques, adding them to her comprehensive mental database of combat manoeuvres. Their movements transformed into an intricate dance of attack and defence, the ringing of chains and blades creating a rhythmic soundtrack that echoed throughout the dojo for hours.

The culmination came when Zoe closed the distance during a momentary opening, disrupting the tension in his chain before deftly manipulating her own weapon to bring the blade to his throat in a controlled stop.

The master froze, acknowledging the decisive move with a respectful nod before relaxing his posture. "Excellent technique," he commented as she withdrew the blade. "Am I correct in assuming you have now defeated every master in the region?"

Zoe stepped back and bowed formally, honouring the tradition. "Yes, you were the final name on my list. Thank you for your instruction—your technique with the kyoketsu-shoge is remarkable."

The old man moved toward a small desk and retrieved a brochure from a stack of papers. "Your journey isn't complete," he said, extending the document toward her. "There's always more to learn."

She accepted the paper, raising an eyebrow at the heading. "'International Kyoketsu-Shoge Tournament'?"

"Indeed," he confirmed with a knowing smile. "The martial arts world extends far beyond our city. I'm authorized to recommend exceptional students—I'd be honoured to submit your name if you would represent our dojo."

Zoe considered the proposition, quickly calculating how tournament participation might fit into her expanding array of projects. The potential to encounter truly skilled opponents held definite appeal—few local masters had provided genuine challenge in recent months.

"I accept your offer," she decided, extending her hand to formalize the agreement. "I'll represent your dojo in exchange for your recommendation."

After concluding their arrangement, she remembered a practical matter as she prepared to leave. "I'll need my own weapon for competition. Could you recommend a reliable craftsman?"

The master disappeared briefly into a back room, returning with paper and pen to note an address. "This artisan creates exceptional weapons—tell him I sent you."

Thanking him, Zoe tucked the paper into her bag before bidding farewell. Outside, she broke into her characteristic run, the pace feeling almost meditative after years of conditioning.

Arriving home, she deposited her training gear in her room before showering. Afterward, she proceeded directly to the kitchen, activating a series of sensors positioned strategically around the room. The devices connected wirelessly to her computer network, prepared to record her movements for data analysis.

'My next project is going to need some data to learn from,' she thought as she began preparing dinner. 'This dataset should provide adequate reference points.'

As she chopped ingredients with chef-like precision, she hummed softly—a habit she'd developed during her years with the Ishigamis, one of many small changes that had gradually softened her once rigid demeanour.

While the main dish simmered, she retrieved her laptop and opened a document that represented one of her longest ongoing projects. The screen displayed an intricate chemical formula diagram accompanied by detailed explanations written with academic precision.

'Volume three is coming along nicely,' she assessed, reviewing her progress on what had become a comprehensive chemistry textbook—one of several she was writing specifically for Senku. The project combined her encyclopaedic knowledge with practical applications she'd developed through experimentation.

'He's going to love this birthday present,' she thought, allowing herself a moment of anticipation before returning to her work. While monitoring the cooking food with peripheral awareness, she continued typing rapidly, her fingers moving almost independently as her mind processed multiple complex concepts simultaneously.

The textbooks represented something meaningful beyond their intellectual content—a tangible manifestation of the connection she'd formed with her adoptive brother.

Though still guarded in many ways, Zoe had discovered that the Ishigami household had become something she'd never expected to find: a place where her exceptional abilities were not just tolerated but celebrated, where boundaries were respected, and where her contributions—whether a home-cooked meal or an advanced algorithm—were genuinely valued.

As she multitasked between cooking and writing, a small smile played at the corner of her lips—subtle but genuine evidence of how far she had come.