Kengo had never known his father, never had the chance. The man had died before Kengo was born. There was no body to visit, since JAXA couldn't send another ship to the moon to retrieve it, leaving Rabbit Hatch as his tomb. When Kengo had first gone to the base with Yuuki, he half-expected and half-hoped to find his father's body, but any hope at even a burial on the lunar soil was dashed when he realized that his father must have taken a spacesuit at the end and gone out and waited to die. It was what he'd told himself, at least, the precious delusion that his father had not wanted his son to be greeted by such a ghastly sight once he was able to come to Rabbit Hatch, and so he died watching the light of the Earth—so close and yet so distant—as if watching over his family.

But Kengo had never felt so close to his father's memory as he had when he thought he would meet the same fate. When he was trapped, when he burnt out his fear and stopped tearing apart his classmates'—his friends'—possessions. When he fashioned a makeshift flagpole from spare parts unneeded for Fourze and attached the Kamen Rider Club banner, then took a spacesuit and went out to the desolate surface to plant the flag and die just like he imagined his father had.

Except that Kengo was rescued when his father wasn't. He couldn't help but feel like maybe it hadn't just been Gentaro's determination, Tomoko's insight, JK's information-gathering, Miu's leadership, Shun's strength, and Yuuki's loyalty that had saved him.

Maybe it had been his dad protecting him too.

But the attack he'd had in the base had only been a precursor to a much worse one, and he'd been sent home when he collapsed in the middle of class. He spent most of the day in bed, a ripping pain in his skull and terrible weakness throughout his body, and yet he couldn't help but think of what his friends had done for him. How hard they'd fought, the sacrifices they'd been prepared to make, and the sacrifice they refused to make. They never let themselves think they'd leave him there to die, not like JAXA had left his father.

He was barely dozing when he came up with the idea, and in the haze of pain, weakness, and utter insanity, he pulled himself out of bed and stumbled his way to the kitchen, trying to gather the ingredients he expected he'd need: flour, sugar, eggs, oil. The eggs were easy enough—he only had to be careful that he didn't lose his grip on them completely. The oil wasn't hard to lift either. But the heavy bags of flour and sugar were out of the question. The flour slipped out of his hands and landed on the floor, sending up a plume of white powder that made him cough helplessly.

He heard a knock at the door, and he staggered his way over, trying to clear his lungs. He managed to get the door open, hearing the others before he saw them—Miu and Yuuki were expressing their worry, Tomoko was mumbling something, JK and Shun said something encouraging, and Gentaro confidently insisted everything was all right.

"Oi, Kengo, we wanted to…" Gentaro came to a stop when he saw that Kengo was covered in flour. "Wait, are you…"

"Don't try to bake in this state!" Yuuki insisted worriedly, coming over to his side.

They still thought the cakes had been his doing. He'd wanted to do something for them, to show his thanks, and this was the only thing he could think of. But with the way they were looking at him with a mix of worry and gratitude, he realized that even just the intent had been enough.

"Don't force yourself," Miu ordered. "Let us help."

"Yeah, if you're not feeling up to it," JK added.

"I can find a recipe," Tomoko said, holding up her tablet.

"We'll all work on it," Shun insisted. "You rest."

"Leave it to us," Gentaro said with a grin.

Kengo nodded as the club walked inside. They sat him down at the table and immediately got to work, following Tomoko's recipe—more or less. They all argued over what flavor they wanted and how they should decorate it, and right in the middle of mixing, Miu turned and accidentally brought up the mixer, splattering batter all over them.

The kitchen was a mess, the club members were a mess, and the cake was lopsided and undercooked, but they all agreed it was the best one they'd ever had.

And when Kengo returned to school the next day, he found a cupcake in his locker, topped with a small fondant moon.

He made up his mind that the next time the KRC decided to bake a cake, they'd have to send it to Kougami. It really seemed like the least he could do.

And the final chapter. Thank you to everybody who's followed this surprising monster of a short crackfic. The part about Kengo never meeting his father is personal theory based on his grade level at school. He's in his second year, so he'd have to be about sixteen or just turned seventeen, so if his father was in space and died seventeen years ago, chances are low that they ever would have known one another. While it's possible that Kengo is seventeen or eighteen and was simply held back a grade because of his frequent illness, I figured it was better not to make that assumption unless canon said something first.