Chapter Text
He touches the rough skin of his neck, tracing over the two and a half inch patch which would always bare the mark of his banishment.
Kuroo has seen Tsukishima do this at least ten times a day since they met with Oikawa and Ushijima, and twice as much on the boat sailing towards his homeland.
Kuroo's still not sure if it's out of relief or uncertainty.
Maybe a mix of the two, an unjust concoction of disbelief at the chip's removal, as well as the proof of its presence in the first place.
"Almost got it," Oikawa whispers, lost in his own head. It must be common for the inventor, because Ushijima neither smiles nor bats an eye from where he's seated in the corner. Every little thing out of Oikawa's mouth is simply a product of his work, and doesn't need an answer. Oikawa bites his lip, working the tools carefully around Tsukishima's neck.
The chip is almost gone.
Tsukishima's hands stay fisted on his knees the entire ten minutes; at this point, having so much patience must be agony. Kuroo expected it to be more dramatic than this, more complicated, but he guesses the road here hasn't been easy.
It's all led them to a handful of metal tools, and Oikawa's skillful hands. "There!"
It shatters Kuroo's thoughts, and he sees the moment Tsukishima's eyes widen.
Like...that was it? It's off? That's the story Tsukishima's face tells him, and his hand flies up to his unchained neck for the first time.
He doesn't move as soon as his fingers touch the place the chip used to be. Tsukishima won't cry, Kuroo knows that.
But he doesn't have to.
Kuroo lets out the breath he'd been holding, and hears Daishou do the same as Oikawa's tools clatter back onto the metal tray.
Oikawa of course, is oblivious to the emotional weight of his favor.
"Oh, yeah...sorry, I did warn you about some of the pain," he says when he sees Tsukishima grimace a little. It's true, the flesh under the chip is red and tender, forming a small mark which Kuroo doubts will ever go away.
Oikawa grins reassuringly for the first time, and Tsukishima looks up at him, unsure of how to put his gratitude into words. Luckily, Oikawa doesn't seem the type to mind. "The scar's not too big though!"
The inventor beams, undoubtedly catching the slight waver in Tsukishima's eyes
The blond sighs, rubbing over the scar gently, as if he already knew its exact dimensions.
"No, it really isn't."
Kuroo sighs as the boat rocks a little too much for his liking; he's never been good on boats. He doesn't throw up, but he's never completely comfortable, always stuck adrift in a persistent feeling of nausea. He'd felt it as soon as they'd left Oikawa's private dock, but Daishou and Tsukishima had walked on like it was nothing.
It was as if they already moved with the waves underneath, knowing just how to rock on them and plant their feet. Subtle, so subtle the two waterbenders probably didn't even notice it. Why would they? They grew up on the ocean.
But Kuroo was nevertheless fascinated with the dance, a gentle push and pull where neither of the benders surrendered nor challenged the choppy movements of the waves.
Even standing by the one porthole in the cargo hold, Tsukishima doesn't budge or struggle against the rough ride. There are bigger things to worry about.
And as messed up as it is, Kuroo can't help but smile. They're so close, so undeniably close he can feel it.
The pressure rises and falls in his gut; the first act is all on him.
He does his best to stand up, but it takes about three attempts to actually not fall right back on his ass. The third time he manages to push himself forward using some of the metal cables hidden under the outfit Oikawa gave him, but he nearly kicks the snoring Daishou in the process.
Thank goodness the waterbender is a heavy sleeper, and pays no mind to the close call.
Kuroo's steps are large and clumsy, but nothing has even stopped him from reaching Tsukishima's side before.
In the back of his mind, he thinks he likes the low light of the cargo hold. They're only down there to keep Tsukishima and Daishou hidden, but while it's cramped and creaky, the moon shines just right through the porthole and bathes Tsukishima in purifying light and energy.
But, Kuroo gets poetic when he's bored.
Cautiously, he grabs Tsukishima's hand before it can reach his neck again, and golden eyes flash his way before he can blink. There's that subtle waver again, and Kuroo can feel it in his gut.
They need to talk about this now, they need to solve this now. They'll reach the North by morning, and then there'll be no more waiting.
From how Tsukishima's shoulders sag, he can tell.
"You should try sleeping," Kuroo whispers, knowing it’s futile. He tried napping earlier to no avail, and he's not quite sure how Daishou managed it.
Tsukishima huffs out a laugh, the humorless smile still unbelievably young and kind. "I know I won't be able to, I...I haven't been able to."
Kuroo lets the words sink into the air, but they sit where the waves outside can't reach. He's learned it helps though, to pause like this; Tsukishima seems calmer when he can listen to the slosh of the ocean in the background.
No matter the harsh circumstances, he's still going home; that has to count for something.
But Tsukishima hasn't had the most time to prepare for...for whatever might happen.
To see Akiteru.
A little over a week in rushed planning has left him quiet and withdrawn, but Kuroo has never felt pushed aside. It's what Tsukishima needed to do to get ready.
Ready for a possible fight.
Another beat passes, and Kuroo inhales deeply. "Are you--"
"Scared?" Tsukishima finishes, getting a feel for the word. "No. I would be if I were you though."
The jab rocks Kuroo like the unsteady floor. Tsukishima's lips turn up slightly, and Kuroo's relieved to see his boyfriend hasn't lost all his humor at a time like this.
The blond's eyes flicker in distaste down Kuroo's body, eyeing the new outfit like he'd love to throw it in a fire to never be seen again.
Kuroo is offended.
Tsukishima...has a point though.
Kuroo laughs, but his head hangs low. "What? Don't like the outfit? This is a high end work uniform."
And essential to the plan. The overalls are stained with paint and a size too big, frumpy in all the wrong places.
But hey, he looks like a normal worker from Zaofu, and that's what matters. It'll play right into the stereotype of his role, and Akiteru won't think to doubt him.
"You're an architect now," Ushijima says to him the day after their talk. Kuroo blinks, taken aback by the bluntness once again as Oikawa shoves the outfit into his arms.
"I don't understand," Daishou says beside him, and Tsukishima is already laying out the clothes with noticeable disgust. "Why are you trying to make Kuroo uglier than he already is?"
"Hey!"
"He's going to be our star actor," Oikawa says with a smirk before his face turns serious. "Look, Daishou and Tsukishima are outlaws, they can't be spotted at all once you reach the North. Kuroo though, he's perfect."
Kuroo is thankful for Ushijima's elaboration. "The Chief of the North has been looking to renovate his palace. It's fallen on hard times since before the late Chief's death. It wasn't out of the ordinary for me to radio him with a recommendation."
And just like that, Kuroo gets it. Shockingly, the fear takes a backseat to responsibility.
He's the one who gets to prove Tsukishima's innocence, it's up to him to find proof.
Then, Tsukishima will finally be able to step out of the shadows and take back what's his.
It's a lot to handle in the moment, but Kuroo wouldn't hesitate for anything. He looks over the construction outfit with newfound determination, and this time when he thinks of Zaofu, there's nothing but thankfulness in his soul.
"Told ya I know how to deceive!" Oikawa is way too proud of that, but it's the least of Kuroo's concerns.
He has a week to prepare for a trip into the moose lion's den.
But somehow, Tsukishima's critical stare makes all of that seem so far away for just a moment.
Honey-brown eyes travel up and down Kuroo's body until they find the right words, or the ones Tsukishima is most comfortable with. As always, they come with the prettiest blush Kuroo has ever seen. "It doesn't...flatter you."
Kuroo's grin is positively wolfish, boxing Tsukishima in with his arms against the wall of the ship
The swaying makes it less cool, but it'll do. Anything to lighten the mood at this point would be good, especially with the wrinkles and frown lines so apparent on Tsukishima’s face.
The little smirk and flustered stare are things Kuroo has missed.
"Well, I'll make it up to you when all this is over," he purrs, kissing Tsukishima on the cheek. Before he can be scolded, he looks down at his outfit with similar disapproval. The gentle consideration has Tsukishima's face softening. "I'll be desperate for a change by then, and I think I'd look good in Water Tribe threads!"
The mention of his home in a tone so full of certainty makes Tsukishima's face fall for a moment. Kuroo expects it, but it still hurts. He knows there's a lot of doubt, after everything that's gone wrong for Tsukishima, it's in his nature to assume the worst.
But Kuroo has enough stupid optimism for them both because he has to.
He knows he'll get Tsukishima home again, and they'll get to stay there. Together.
"Yeah, you would..." Tsukishima says with a small laugh, and he traces the fur lining of his own parka, wistful with every passing second. He's regained so much, but it won't be enough until he has everything back.
As the chill of the ocean rises and rises the closer they get, he can feel Tsukishima's will grow stronger. But he'll always need help, and Kuroo is there to provide.
"Hey now," he says softly, lifting Tsukishima's chin. "You just said you weren't worried."
"I said I wasn't scared," Tsukishima whispers, his voice trembling. "I'm incredibly worried."
Kuroo's eyes reflect the pain. "About?"
Tsukishima bites his own lip, the words hard to piece together. He's no longer worried about sounding weak though; it's just Kuroo. "What if I can't...hurt him?"
It's not what Kuroo expects.
He shrinks back a little from where he's standing, seeing the shame cross Tsukishima's face. From all the anger and determination he'd spewed to Ushijima and even Akaashi, Kuroo figured he'd have no issue taking out some of his anger on his brother.
Or maybe that's not what he means, maybe the desire is there, but the ability...
"If I have to fight him..."
"Well, if all goes according to plan, you won't," Kuroo reassures, but he finds no relief on his boyfriend's face.
It's not the answer Tsukishima wants, and he glares at his sealskin boots, trying to figure out how to say what he needs to.
"What if I can't resist?" He asks a second later, then shakes his head. "I know I'm not making sense. I want to face him. I feel like if I learn that he...you know, did that stuff, I won’t be able to keep the anger back anymore, but no matter how much I think about facing him, when I get to the point where he's weakest, at my mercy...I can't imagine actually being able to hurt him. The final blow...I can't see it! I can't do what..."
'What he did to me.' It goes unsaid.
Kuroo holds back his thoughts as he watches Tsukishima battle with himself, looking at the concave walls like he despises them. The cool Northern air is so close. "Tetsurou I've just been so so angry this whole time, I know I don't say it but--"
"What happened to you was wrong," Kuroo interrupts, expression hard. He grabs Tsukishima's hands lovingly, squeezing as if he could pour all his own resolve into him. "You have every right to be angry, okay?"
Tsukishima shakes his head. There's a desperation there Kuroo can't understand; to Tsukishima, anger is toxic, unnecessary, and something no one would blame him for. He doesn’t like to do what’s expected, but he has to understand this is normal.
Kuroo’s family is gone, he grew up alone. But he can still relate to these feelings; back when Tsukishima was a suspect, he was sure he would've done anything to protect him regardless. It scared him beyond belief, how angry he was with himself, with the circumstances.
"That's not just it though," Tsukishima manages, almost pleadingly. "You know as much as he hurt me, as much as he made me go through, I can't see him being that, a killer."
The anger festers and grows without finding purchase, and Tsukishima can't take it.
Kuroo sighs. "Kei, we've been over it--"
"I'm not saying he's innocent anymore," Tsukishima states, glaring behind Kuroo as if the past is playing out right behind him. "I'll do whatever it takes to bring him to justice. But, the Akiteru I knew...there was more to him. There's more to this, and it might not change anything but...I need to know."
It's hard to swallow; Kuroo's not afraid to admit he doesn't quite understand.
Akiteru is guilty, so what more is there to find out?
Kuroo doesn't know if he can agree with Tsukishima's considerations. After everything, all the pain the elder Tsukishima has put his boyfriend through, Kuroo hates him. He doesn't feel pity or sorrow, doesn't see him as a man fallen from grace who deserves any kind of forgiveness for his past nature.
But he doesn't know him, Tsukishima does. Kuroo trusts his boyfriend more than anything to make the right choice when things finally reach that point. He's come to learn Tsukishima can see things he can't, whether he wants to or not.
He just has to know Tsukishima won't hesitate; if he does, Kuroo won't be able to hold back.
No matter the outcome.
"Kei..."
"Just like there was more to me," Tsukishima says, and it's a spear to the heart, the tassels staining with blood. It hurts more that there's still disbelief in Tsukishima's voice. He's repeating Kuroo's own feelings, how Kuroo sees Tsukishima, not how he sees himself.
Kuroo doesn’t know if he should laugh at how easily Tsukishima can use his own words and thoughts against him.
But Kuroo was right, and it cuts deep. There was more to Tsukishima, there's always been more. Beautiful, insightful, wonderful things. There's a big difference between him and his brother.
Tsukishima never hurt anyone on purpose. Every lie was to protect himself and others. That's what Kuroo will never be able to move past when it comes to Tsukishima Akiteru; in his mind there's no excuse.
He's behind this, and what justification could there possibly be?
Tsukishima sees the conflict in Kuroo's eyes and sighs to himself, holding his head high as always. "You don't have to agree, I don't mind. And if I'm being honest, that's all I want to know about my brother. I want to know why this happened, and I want him to finally just…say he believes me."
The strain in Tsukishima's voice from the admission is rough; he's not the type to admit something like that. The search for truth and knowledge, the calculated and sometimes cold thoughts...
Those are all normal, but this childlike vulnerability...
It hurts Kuroo, because they both know it's highly unlikely that Tsukishima will get his wish. Regardless, Kuroo finds himself hoping, praying for Akiteru to see the truth.
"But if he doesn't?" He asks, letting the thought slip into the stuffy air.
This time, the rage and resilience from before floods back into Tsukishima's eyes, and despite every single reservation he may have, Kuroo knows he'll do what he has to do.
"I'll fight him either way."
--
They dock on a deserted edge of the Northern Water Tribe.
The ice float is one of the largest Kuroo has ever seen, drifting slowly away from civilization. He's sure that in a few years, it won't even be in the same spot. It cries out when the boat scrapes the edge, but the echo gets eaten up by the sea, pulled down and lost forever.
It's a good testament to the subtlety and power of water, how it can change without anyone realizing. Kuroo gazes out at the vast expanse of ocean, cut up with shards of white ice blocks and mountains sunk below, and can't believe somewhere so peaceful and so perilous exists.
It's desolate, it's unforgiving, and Tsukishima's eyes fill with love at the sight of it.
The blond is the first to hop off the deck of the boat, sealskin boots skidding easily against the ice. He doesn't need to use waterbending to skate along it, it's simply natural. His feet know where to step and how to move to keep from slipping, and unlike Kuroo, he doesn't need the hood right away.
The icy wind hits like a punch to the face, turning Kuroo's cheeks red, while Tsukishima's stay as pale and unbothered as ever.
He's home.
Tsukishima breathes in the next wave of it, not yielding under the bite, and for a while he just stands there, unsure of what to say or do.
Something in Kuroo's chest aches; Tsukishima's hands are trembling at his side and Kuroo can no longer see his face as he turns towards the mainland. It's probably better that way. The feelings of wistfulness and nostalgia surge up so heavily in the blond, they overflow onto everyone and everything around him. Tsukishima happily drowns.
Kuroo does too; he already feels like he's somewhere very important, and he doesn't know if he'll ever feel that again.
As if the weight of the moment finally registers as reality, Tsukishima plops down onto the icy surface like a man led to an oasis in the desert, no longer plagued by buzzard wasps or the promise of death.
He rolls around in it without shame, hugging an old friend.
Daishou isn't much different, but he tries to hide it. It's almost comical, how he wipes his eyes hurriedly when Kuroo steals a glance at him, plopping down in a much stiffer display. He tries to act like it's because he's tired of being cramped in the cargo hold, but Kuroo notices the way his fists tremble against snow.
Kuroo's smile is blinding. "Guess you guys won't mind staying put until I get back," he jokes, and Daishou throws him the weakest glare yet.
It fades easily, unable to survive the refreshing cold. "I...I still can't believe we're here."
A few feet away, Tsukishima rises to his feet, not bothering to bend the ice crystals off his shoulders. "I missed it so much," he confesses, walking over slowly to savor the crunch beneath his boots.
Even Daishou smiles. "It missed us too," he says with a cough, and Tsukishima's eyes widen enough for Daishou to blush. Kuroo rolls his eyes; he can't believe the waterbender once had him believe he was stone cold. It's far from the truth.
Flustered or not, Daishou shockingly takes nothing back. "I know it, is all."
Tsukishima's eyes stay wide before settling into something fonder, impossibly soft, and Daishou looks about ready to freeze himself inside an igloo. "Stop looking at me like that it's gross."
But rather than the usual snappy retort, Tsukishima shakes his head, his sigh carried off by the wind. "Thank you for believing in me."
And yes, Daishou is effectively done.
Kuroo would've basked in the stupidly touched and out of character expression on Daishou's face had it not been for the roaring of an engine in the distance.
Tsukishima's shoulders tense up immediately, always ready for the worst as he steps in front of Kuroo.
Always trying to protect him; Kuroo can't help it, he pouts and grabs Tsukishima's hand.
If they face something, they'll face it side by side.
"Who is that?" Daishou says with a glare.
As the black masses get closer and closer, Kuroo starts to make out their shape.
Snowmobiles.
Oh.
Tsukishima relaxes a little at the realization, but never stays completely off guard. It's not in his nature.
"Must be Oikawa's contacts," he whispers, squinting through his glasses. It's amazing they don't fog up. "He said they'd bring us food and tents while we wait for Kuroo."
Daishou scoffs. "Why didn't I hear about this?"
Kuroo shrugs. "'Cause you're paranoid."
"For good reason! Are these people citizens? Can we trust them?" Daishou's hands flail in a way similar to someone thinking about lashing out with a water whip, and Kuroo hopes the look on his own face effectively says ‘I dare you.’
"Oikawa trusts them," Tsukishima says before things can get out of hand.
Daishou presses his arms to his sides out of habit, not that he needs to take water from the pouches on his hips, they're surrounded by water. "Yeah well that's not comforting. Not a lot of people know why we left Kei..."
"They would've turned us in by now, don't you think?" Tsukishima grits through his teeth. It's true; they're the ones in the middle of the ice float, it would've been easy to wrap them up in a cage of ice and water from that distance.
Maybe they're not benders...
The thought comes too late; the snowmobiles reach the edge of the mainland and Kuroo watches in awe as one of the drivers moves their arms in a perfect windmill fashion. They move in opposite directions, but that doesn't compromise the bender's skill or smoothness.
Or accuracy.
The snowmobile doesn't stop moving, speeding up as it shoots off the edge of the cliff. The driver's arms pick up speed, coordinated and without hesitation.
It's the mark of a skilled bender, and the water bends to their will. It shoots up in a beautiful arc, the bridge as thick as a road in Republic City. It whisks the snowmobile along like it’s a boat, but twice as weightless, carrying it over the gap and onto the ice float.
It's almost sad, to see the clear water fall behind them, disappearing back into the ocean where it belongs.
"I definitely don't like this," Daishou yells over the roar of the engines, and Tsukishima silences him with a jab of his elbow.
"Shut it, they can probably hear you from here."
He was probably right. The land echoed at the worst times, choosing what it did and did not swallow up. The snowmobiles drift to a stop a few yards from them, and without the sound of the engine, every skid of the hulking metal grates against Kuroo's ear drums.
"Not another word," Tsukishima whispers, but amid the silence it's crystal clear. They watch as the drivers approach them, hands reaching for their helmets.
Kuroo doesn't know why, but the way they walk gets his attention. It's an earthbender thing; his grandparents always said you could tell a lot about a person from how they walk.
The driver who had bended the bridge walks with a skip in their step; energetic, and their attire matches. Deep blues, purple accents and patterns. Fun. The oversized parka sleeves sway in the wind as they walk, and they practically glide, much like Tsukishima would. Masterful, elegant.
Meanwhile, the other...
Well, Kuroo has seen that walk before. A little snooty, respectable, high class. He has to respect it either way, the ability to hold one's head that high in the face of strangers.
Daishou's manners are nowhere to be found regardless, and Kuroo doesn't know if he's simply dense or uncaring. Maybe both. "Whatever, forgive me for being paranoid after having a murder pinned on me," he says, not minding his volume as he turns to Tsukishima.
At the very least, it gives Kuroo the perfect view of his expression when the first driver speaks.
"Paranoid as always, huh Suguru?"
The voice is cute, feminine, and not at all what Kuroo might've expected. Regardless, it plunges the ice float into static; Kuroo swears even the waves around them cease.
From Daishou's face, the shock is shared; Tsukishima's head snaps up, like he can't believe it. Everything happens slowly.
The sleeves of the woman's parka slide down to reveal purple armbands which match Daishou's own, and when the helmet slips off, auburn locks fall in its place. They roll off her shoulders like a stream of autumn, and when she sees Daishou in all the world's color, she drops the helmet carelessly to the floor.
Tsukishima lets a stuttering breath escape him, unable to speak or move. Maybe because he knows it's not his place, not yet.
Kuroo doesn't need an introduction; Daishou's eyes fill with something Kuroo has never seen before from him, but he's felt it. Uninhibited, desperate longing. Daishou’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and he twitches forward, as if afraid to take a step.
Like she might be gone if he does.
He licks his dry lips as his eyes take her in, growing more and more broken by the second. Kuroo watches his spirit crack and heal over and over again, and at a certain point he has to look away.
It's too much, too intimate. This moment isn't his, but it tugs at his heart regardless. He feels Tsukishima's hand slip into his.
Kuroo knows exactly who the girl is, doesn't even have to think about it.
"Hi Suguru," Yamaka Mika whispers, suddenly self-conscious. She sweeps her uneven bangs to the side, fiddling with the frizz, and the smug smile on her lips dissolves into quivering shock.
Love brings out childishness, as it should.
Her hazel eyes tremble with unshed tears as she gets a good look at her boyfriend; Kuroo wonders how different he might look after so many months. Skinnier? Sadder? Who knows.
Mika lets a hiccup escape her, and she claps a hand over her mouth.
But the damage is done in all the best ways.
"Hey Mika-chan," Daishou finds his voice, a scratchy whisper on the verge of breaking, and he looks like a kicked polar bear puppy. He coughs afterwards; it's been a while since he's had to say her name instead of write it. His shoulders sag completely and stay that way, something he hasn't allowed in all his time in Republic City.
Kuroo can see it now, how utterly exhausted he is, waiting until the day he could come home to her.
He sees the moment they both snap, and Mika runs to jump in his arms. Kuroo doesn't see the impact; he owes Daishou enough to let him have this moment.
He smiles when he hears the sob, and the sound of bodies rolling into the snow.
It makes part of the stressful trip worth it.
Kuroo's smile is short lived when he sees the other rider's pissed off scowl, asymmetrical bangs having a rough time making sense of the air outside the helmet. The expression of displeasure makes Kuroo jolt, like he's also gotten a whiff of the worst smell in the world.
Tsukishima is less affected.
"Shirabu," he says with mirth, like he's the reason (and proud of it) behind such a foul look on the other's face. The man is shorter, dressed prettily in light purples and the cleanest fur Kuroo has ever seen, plus a medallion with the Water Tribe's insignia.
Pristine condition.
Did he even go outside?
It reminds Kuroo of the upper-class citizens in the earth kingdom; overdressed. Except in this case, there's no false air of superiority or the need to impress.
Shirabu is the picture of well earned wealth.
The lopsided bangs are clean cut, and Kuroo can't explain it, but they seem to highlight the worsening glare.
A beat of silence passes, before the diplomat makes up his mind on the perfect professional greeting.
"Thanks for giving me the heads-up before you left jackass," Shirabu says without a returning hello, sizing Tsukishima up to check for any missing limbs. Kuroo doesn't remember much about Shirabu apart from Tsukishima's stories, but from what he's heard, this is what he's expected.
Tsukishima's smugness falls. "I was kind of busy being banished from the only home I've ever known," he says with greatly rehearsed seriousness.
Shirabu inclines his head a bit, weighing whether or not the sympathy is earned. It's not, and the replies from then on are so quick and in sync, it's like a dance. "That's no excuse to be sloppy."
"I'll be less sloppy when you're less scornful."
"That'll never happen."
"Then I guess you'll have to live."
Tsukishima lets the last syllables linger in the cool air, the tense space between them only dissolved by the giggles from Mika in the background.
Kuroo isn't sure whether or not they're about to get into a cage match or stand there until they're statues, but he gets his answer.
After all, someone always breaks first.
Shirabu's sternness melts away into something soft and more exasperated than upset, the edges of a smile starting to shine through.
But just barely. "It's good to see you," he manages to grumble, crossed arms falling to his sides. Then, as if to preserve some pride: "I guess."
Tsukishima snorts easily, and crosses the line Shirabu can't quite bring himself too. He steps forward with slightly raised arms, an unfamiliar gesture for them both, but Shirabu closes the gap anyways.
Kuroo smiles; the hug is short and sweet, awkward, but the warmth Tsukishima obviously feels is immeasurable.
"Likewise," the blond whispers, pulling back with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Sort of."
And after that, Shirabu's smile doesn't stand a chance. It comes through on his pinched features, bright and genuine. Well, until he sees Kuroo. Sharp eyes gaze at him curiously, scanning him up and down multiple times. Excessive, intimidating, and purposeful. Jeez.
"Who is this?" Shirabu asks, done with his analysis.
"Kuroo Tetsurou," Kuroo says before Tsukishima can, bowing low. He's still Tsukishima's boyfriend, and first impressions are important. "Pleased to meet you."
Shirabu and Tsukishima share a look, and Shirabu shrugs. "Eh, sure. Keep him."
With a laugh, Tsukishima pulls Kuroo to his feet, leaning into his side. The touch reminds Kuroo of what's at stake, and what he'll be missing if he fails. "I intend to."
Right. He has to do his best, even if it means being away from Tsukishima for a while. He looks into the blond's eyes and sees the same fear, but mostly hope, and such a strong faith in him. Kuroo hasn't seen someone look at him like that since...well, since he left Zaofu.
He squeezes Tsukishima’s hand tighter, and his heart beats quick.
He's ready.
"So what's the plan?" Mika says as she skips over, giggling to herself. Daishou's hair looks more than a little ruffled, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. The small girl jumps high, the snow beneath her twirling too from the level of energy she has. "This is so exciting!"
Daishou got so unbelievably lucky, Kuroo doesn't get it.
"Sadly, this part is all Kuroo," Daishou sighs, sizing Kuroo up like he's just now seeing him. "So, you know, don't fuck up."
"Thanks," Kuroo deadpans.
Mika elbows Daishou hard enough to make him yelp, and Kuroo likes her even more.
Unfortunately, the teasing has to be cut short. But it's just another reason for Kuroo to come back; this is Tsukishima's life, and that means now it's also Kuroo's.
"The chief is expecting you," Shirabu says, handing him his fake documents so he can pass off as a contractor. There's even a forged license. He's both scared and impressed. "It's better to not be late."
With that, Kuroo looks back towards the boat. He'll have to ride into the docks alone for this to work.
This is it.
He leans down to bump his forehead against Tsukishima's, and for once the blond doesn't look too scandalized in front of his friends. The high blush is still there though, and Kuroo drinks it in for as long as he can. "I'm going to get the truth for you. I promise." Then, he looks to Daishou and Mika, at their interlocked hands. "For the both of you."
"Just be careful," Daishou says, the concern genuine this time. "We know someone in that palace doesn't mind killing."
Kuroo feels a shiver run down his body, but he manages to laugh anyways, winking at Tsukishima. "You'd avenge me."
Tsukishima's response holds none of the humor. Those pretty eyes narrow, and despite what Tsukishima was worried about before, Kuroo knows he definitely won't hesitate to fight if it comes to that. "Yes, but not before I pulled you back from the spirit world myself."
And Kuroo doesn't doubt it for even a second.
"Stay safe," he says, kissing Tsukishima's hand. "All of you."
When his hand leaves Tsukishima's, for a moment he hesitates, missing the warmth. But the rest of his soul takes over, on a mission that can't be stopped.
"I'll be back soon," he says, and he means it, striding towards the boat without looking back.
--
The docks are so organized and clean, it puts Republic City to shame.
Kuroo stares in awe as he pulls in, boxed in by warships and fishing boats larger than life. It’s definitely a hobby he plans on taking up once he lives here for real. He hears the penguins and turtle seals yap from offshore, somehow adding to the calm atmosphere.
He wishes he could bask in it, but the entourage is already there to greet him, and Kuroo is reminded all too well of how dire his role is.
He can’t mess up, it’s not even an option.
The chief stands tall, though not as tall as his brother, with deep purples and tanned pelts lining his shoulders. The mark of a leader, but none of the superiority.
That’s perhaps Kuroo’s first clue to how difficult this would be; Akiteru is likable before he even opens his mouth. How can that be?
How can someone so cruel look so kind?
"Chief Akiteru," he greets the elder Tsukishima with a bow, but from up close, he can see the worry lines and wrinkles all over the other's face.
He doubts they were there before Tsukishima’s banishment.
Despite that, Akiteru's face brightens warmly and amicably, receiving Kuroo right at the docks.
"Ah no need for that," he laughs, bringing Kuroo to his full height with a clap on his back. "Welcome to our humble tribe."
There's nothing humble about it. It's more than ice floats and pillars, the city rises up from beyond the docks in an organized skyline, tall structures with beautiful geometric detailing and rivers running through. It's cold, but it's beautiful, with bridges carved from ice which connect every sidewalk over the vast waterways; there's couples in gondolas and children playing in the snow.
It's perfect, beyond that, and Kuroo can understand what it's like to miss it.
The ride in the carriage is a blur, and he almost feels guilty. Tsukishima is the one who deserves to take all this in.
"It's beautiful," he breathes as he's escorted with Akiteru down the bustling streets. He can't help it, he's still on high alert, but the icy verandas and arched windows are something any good metalbender can appreciate. The city is so intricate and exact, and it’s built with ice! "I was surprised when you hired me, I do mostly metal work."
Akiteru at least looks sheepish. "I know, but you came with such a high recommendation from Ushijima-san," he says with a smile, staring out fondly at his own Tribe. It's the same look Tsukishima often wears when he talks about it. "And it's never a bad idea to show solidarity with our allied nations! Or...states in this case. I'm sure Zaofu is a work of art!"
"It is," Kuroo admits, and regardless of what he knows, he finds talking to Akiteru is easy. Alarmingly so. "I'd love to put some sculptures in your palace like the ones we have there. It'll be different but, I'd of course take the style of the buildings into consideration."
Akiteru looks as if nothing would make him happier.
"Please do, it's in desperate need of a renovation," the chief sighs as they pull up to the palace in question. Tsukishima had briefed him before they left, but Kuroo hadn’t expected this.
The palace had seen better days. It's by no means ugly or dilapidated, simply old. The old Water Tribe markings have faded on the pieces of white stone, and some of the entryway pillars have toppled, but it's still an architectural feat, and stunning enough for Kuroo to gaze at with awe. He knows it's no longer really considered a palace, those days are ancient history. But it is historically where the Chief and his children live. Tsukishima's family had broken that cycle, choosing to live out near the wilderness where the brothers preferred.
It seems Akiteru decided to move back. Makes sense, now that he’s on his own. The old house holds too many bad memories.
Just remembering the story sends shivers up his spine. He can’t lose sight of what’s important.
"It's been falling apart since my grandfather's time," Akiteru says with some wistfulness, and Kuroo can’t help but track the genuine sorrow on his face, the joy at his fonder memories. "I used to come play here as a child, it would be wonderful if we could restore it now that I'm a resident again!"
Tsukishima was right, his brother loved his Tribe as much as he did. Why risk it all for revenge?
Again, the blond's words play in Kuroo's head.
"There's more to him."
But Kuroo stops that train of thought. Kuroo isn’t here to sympathize; if Akiteru is the culprit, he's past the point of no return, and Kuroo has better things to uncover than intentions and sob stories.
"I'm sorry to hear about the late chief," he says; he's sure Akiteru has gotten more than his fair share of condolences, but it's only right.
Even if it makes Kuroo's gut curl to offer well wishes to such a horrible father.
"He would've welcomed the change," Akiteru says, but he doesn't even seem to believe it. Guess he wasn't completely in the dark about his strict dad.
"Is the rest of the royal family holding up alright?" Kuroo asks as they climb up the cracked stairs. It's strategic, and Akiteru falters as expected. The trip is so sudden and unbalanced, Kuroo has to catch him.
When Akiteru’s body falls against his, it’s so rigid Kuroo gasps.
"Excuse me?" Akiteru stumbles over the clarification and pushes away in a hurry, trying to laugh off his own clumsiness as he steamrolls ahead. After about a second of tugging on the double doors, twice their height and once coated in a golden glaze, Akiteru finally realizes he has the key.
Kuroo plays it cool. "Oh, it's just...you have a sibling do you not?"
"No--well, yes," Akiteru corrects himself as he fumbles with the door, pushing it open with a sickening creak. "He's away at the moment."
At that point, Kuroo can't be distracted by the interior design and expensive decor in the foyer. He's watching Akiteru's every move, every twitch.
"Needed the vacation huh?" Kuroo says, feigning sadness. The carpet beneath him kicks up dust.
Akiteru is happy to be given the excuse, but he's a little too quick to jump on it. Word vomit; no wonder his speech hadn’t gone well. "Yes, though I don't know why anyone would want to go to Rep--"
Akiteru's voice dries up and dies like the deserts of the Earth Kingdom, miles and miles away. Kuroo can almost hear something inside him break as he steps stiffly onto the dusty floor. "I--"
Kuroo acts confused, but his pulse quickens. It’s impossible to not catch it. "Republic City?"
Akiteru turns towards a random hall, fidgeting with the plans he'd brought along. A blueprint of the whole palace, how kind.
Maybe Water Tribe citizens are a bit too hospitable.
"Y-yes," Akiteru corrects as best he can, regaining his normal posture. But the damage is done for Kuroo. The chief confirms what he shouldn't know, his brother had gone to Republic City after the banishment. "I could never deal with the smog."
"But that's a place with great architecture, a lot of my inspiration comes from there," Kuroo says, playing it off as he scopes out the place, rolling out his measuring tape.
"Well, feel free to unleash it here!" Akiteru laughs a little too loud to be natural, but the bouncy, positive energy is back. He leaves the blueprints in Kuroo's capable hands, practically moving in place. Whatever Kuroo's words triggered, the anxiety shows, and Akiteru is nothing more than a cornered animal looking for an escape route. "Take measurements, sketches, anything you need! If you'll excuse me, I have a few meetings to go to. If you need help, one of the guards should be able to help you."
Akiteru almost begins to walk away before Kuroo can respond, clearing his throat as he smiles bright. Hospitable, maybe. But just as secretive as the Fire Nation. "Thank you," Kuroo says, giving nothing away. "I can't wait to get started."
For a moment, the real Akiteru shines through from deep down. He hesitates, and the following smile is genuine and shy. Kind.
"There's more to him."
Kuroo's body goes cold from that realization; as much as he wishes he could give Tsukishima the full answer, from every angle and every direction...he can't.
He has to go with what proves Tsukishima's innocence, and that means not worrying about Akiteru's intentions or feelings. How many times will he have to remind himself of that?
This is why he's really here, doing the dirty work, and not Tsukishima. Sometimes...the heart isn't what a job needs.
Still, Kuroo has an odd feeling in his chest; Akiteru stops fidgeting and takes the time to bow to him, respectful and calm in all the ways a leader is supposed to be, if only for a moment. Kuroo is beneath someone with chief status, but Akiteru doesn't make him feel that way. It feels as if he's just a normal person, a friend.
A brother.
Akiteru leaves Kuroo like that, with the realization that none of Akiteru's feelings were fake. His love for his tribe, his people...
But the dodging looks and the lies weren't fake either.
Kuroo sighs to himself as he waits for far too long after Akiteru's steps to fade. The palace is silent, and he sets his measuring tape and tool belt onto the ground in a vague effort to look like a real contractor.
Then, he takes the blueprint, and leaves the foyer behind without touching a thing, no intention of doing anything but searching for the truth.