Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

A month later, Kenma brings him flowers. 

It’s the only thing he can think of, really. Kuro seems to love them so dearly, and it’s the easiest thing in the world to get him flowers. 

He unsubtly asks Kuro what his favorite color is a week after his birthday has happened, hoping it leaves enough space between the two events that Kuro thinks nothing of it. Kenma likes to think of himself as someone with a good neutral face, but as soon as he asks, Kuro’s eyes sparkle in delight. 

“I’ve always liked gold,” he’d said, as if any flowers were ever that color, and while Kenma had tried not to show his disappointment he’d added, “But, I think blues are pretty, too. Just… anything with color.”

Kenma had laughed at that, though not unkindly. “You dress exclusively in monochrome,” he’d said, and then Kuro had looked smaller than a demon with giant wings should ever look, and nodded with a sad, faraway look.

“I dress in monochrome because it fits me,” he’d said. “I like color, though. This isn’t about wearing it. It’s about whether I like it.” 

“I think you’ll look good in whatever you wear,” Kenma says carefully. 

Kuro laughs. “Kenma, you flatter me!” 

Kenma blinks at him, confused. “It’s not flattery if it’s true.” 

Kuro’s laugh turns high and strangled. He flies far up into the gray fog, so high that Kenma can’t make out his expression. 

When Kenma brings a bouquet on the night of Kuro’s birthday, Kuro starts tearing up. A warm, bubbly feeling builds up in Kenma’s chest. Privately, he wonders if there could be a way he could recreate the magic of his fifteenth birthday for Kuro, who loves gold so dearly. If there was a way that Kuro could open his eyes and have the entire world painted in the color he loves, and if he could feel that exhilarating, almost boundless joy that Kenma felt. 

He’ll have to figure something out, next year. Even without magic, he’s sure there’s something they can do, if only to replicate a fraction of the feeling. 

“Shimizu,” Kenma says, slightly startled. He doesn’t often run into her outside of her own home. “It’s a surprise to see you here.” 

She smiles. “I’m here to gather some ingredients Hitoka wanted. I think she’s still a little frightened of Ukai, so I volunteered to get what she needed.” 

“She’ll have to face him eventually,” Kenma says, falling into step beside her. “And he’s not scary.”

“Yes, well, your mother came here as an adult, right?” Shimizu hums thoughtfully. “Hitoka’s mother and her grandmother have been here as children. Ukai was and still is something of a legend. Our town is small, but the magic has always thrived because of him.”

“The magic?” Kenma asks. “Doesn’t magic come from within you?” 

“Oh!” She looks at him a little funny. “You don’t… know?” 

“I don’t know any magic, you know that. I mostly know the specifics of spell creation. And potions, of course.”  

“In theory, yes, magic is pulled from within,” Shimizu says. “But there’s this low level of… potency, you could say? And it’s all around us. This town is especially rich with it.”

“And it’s because of Ukai?” 

“I mean, I assume there were other factors,” Shimizu says. “Otherwise Ukai wouldn’t have traveled her in the first place. But the growth of our magical studies is definitely attributed to him.” She pauses. “It would also explain the demons in the surrounding forest areas. Like attracts like, you know. Though the form a demon’s magic takes is not necessarily the same… it was developed through an inherent practice. Demons are born knowing how to wield it. For humans, that process takes a lot longer.” 

“...Oh,” Kenma says. “Demons… demons are born?” 

“I mean, they are born as much as every creature has a starting and ending point,” Shimizu says. “Magical theory wise… well, would you like me to elaborate?” 

“Please do. I know it might seem to be a strange topic, but—”

“It’s not strange,” Shimizu says. “I always… well, I always felt that—” 

They step into the apothecary and Kenma catches sight of Suga at the front, wearing his blank-faced pleasant smile before he notices the two of them and fumbles with the potion he’s labelling. 

“...Kiyoko?” Suga’s voice is soft, surprised. His hands are trembling. 

“Ah,” Kenma says, “do you two… know each other?”

“No!” Suga says, and then stares at his feet. “Well, yes. But not in the way that you’re thinking.” 

Kenma frowns. “I wasn’t… trying to imply you were… romantically connected.”

“Good, good,” Suga says. “I mean, that makes sense—you’re you, after all.” 

You’re you? Kenma thinks. What does that mean? 

“Suga attends the same school as me,” Shimizu says. “I transferred out of the program he’s studying in.” 

“She was the best our program has had in years,” Suga says. “Potions, all types of medicine… she aced every exam.”

Kenma looks at her, confused. “Why did you bother to ask for my help, then?”

“Well… a multitude of reasons,” Shimizu says. “But I wanted a bit of… unconventionality. That’s why I offered to teach Hitoka in the first place. You can say that my… exit from the school was a form of protest.” She laughs with a hint of bitterness. “Admittedly, it wasn’t that effective, but… well, I certainly don’t regret it.”

“Kiyoko, you’re a legend,” Suga continues, and his smile is real this time around. “If you want any books from the library just contact me! I can totally sneak some out for you.”

She nods. “Today, I’m actually here for some ingredients?”

“Yes, of course!” He nods enthusiastically, then after a moment, crouches under the counter and pulls out a large, unmarked book. “Here,” he says, pushing it towards Kenma. “This came in for you.” 

Kenma eyes the book with suspicion. “Is this some type of Kageyama-related plot?” 

Suga laughs. “Not at all. It’s just for you, free of charge. We had someone drop in to send it along. Don’t worry—we had it checked for curses.”

Gingerly, he takes the book in his hands. When it doesn’t react, he sighs and holds it close. “There’s no chance of you telling me who the sender is, right?”

Suga shakes his head. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

Kenma holds the book for a little while longer, and when Suga moves to help out Shimizu, he packs the book in his satchel and wonders just what he’s missing out on. 

“So,” Shimizu says, “I know our conversation was interrupted earlier.” 

Kenma looks up from where he’s been sitting and watching Yachi stir her pot. “Try slowing down your pace a little, at this point,” he says, and then nods at Shimizu. 

“The subject at hand was… well, not secret information, I suppose, but perhaps best kept that way?” she explains. “I hope you don’t mind that Hitoka’s here.” 

“No, no, it’s totally fine!” Yachi exclaims, and almost drops her spoon in the process. “Go on, pretend like I’m invisible! You can’t see me!” 

Shimizu laughs. “Hitoka, I would love it if you could listen, as well. There’s no need to do any of that.”

Yachi’s ears turn red. “Um, I think… this potion probably needs to cool for a bit!” she declares, and scuffs her foot against the magic circle below the pot, extinguishing the flame. 

Kenma winces. “That’s not exactly… procedure…” 

“Oh, it’s fine,” Yachi says. “Nothing a little bit of sage won’t fix.” She peers up at Shimizu. “I… I can use a little bit of your sage, right?” 

“Bottom left cabinet,” Shimizu says, and Yachi rushes off. 

“I see what you mean about unconventional,” Kenma says. “If anyone, it would be her.”

Shimizu smiles down at her lap. She’s cradling a warm cup of tea in her hands. “Hitoka is really a gift. I’m glad she accepted my offer to teach. I… once I transferred from that program, I wasn’t sure what to do, but now… it feels like it was meant to happen.” 

Kenma nods. “Some things are just like that,” he says. “Terrible disaster, and then suddenly you feel incomplete without the parts that come after.”

She takes a sip of tea. “Indeed. You’re no stranger to the unconventional either, though, Kenma. You seemed to have an innate… magical sensitivity, so to be honest, I was quite surprised that you weren’t able to feel the potency in this town. I mean, one of the things that was so interesting about you—from, of course, a purely magical perspective—is that you seem to almost have the feel of demonic magic running within you.” 

Kenma freezes. “You can… you can sense that? Can others sense it?” 

“It’s a learned thing,” Shimizu says. “I doubt others would see it. But my area of study during my time in school was about demonic poisons. I’ve been accustomed to searching for… an infection, I guess you would call it? An infection of demonic energy. Think of something similar to a curse, but not as specific. The small amount of magic within your body feels similar to that.”

“Huh,” Kenma says. “That… well, I might be able to explain that.” 

“There’s no need to, if you don’t want to,” Shimizu says. She stares at him. “Do you want to?” 

He shakes his head. 

At this point, Yachi comes rushing back in, sage held triumphantly within her grasp. She drops it into the pot and stands for attention. “I hope I didn’t make you wait!”

Shimizu’s body shakes in suppressed laughter. “We were just chatting. No need to rush.” She shakes her head and clears her throat. “Well, Kenma had just asked me about the magical theory of demons, you know? And um, Hitoka, have you ever heard…?”

“No, I haven’t, I’m sorry!” Yachi tilts her head in consideration. “I mean, I know they’re like… big evil monsters. Usually they’re out at night.” 

“Spirit, soul, and prayer,” Kenma mutters. “And born from the earth.”

Shimizu looks flustered. “That’s… wow,” she says. “I mean, you’re not wrong, Kenma. It’s just a rather archaic definition. Where did you learn that?”

“My mother told me when I was young,” he says. “Maybe it’s because she came from a different region.”

“Right.” She clears her throat. “Nowadays, the magical community defines a demon’s existence as from something called ‘The Great Miasma.’ The Great Miasma is this… sickness on our continent. The origin of all things demonic. Like magic, there’s a level of it that exists everywhere within. Demons are a concentrated, solid form of this miasma. When we vanquish demons, they dissolve back into this miasma. The miasma, by itself, hasn’t been shown to harm anyone. So that’s why a lot of magical studies brush past it. Some scholars are searching for ways to completely eradicate it, while others feel as if it’s part of a balance that shouldn’t be upset. But it is there.”

“And… that’s what you think is clinging to me?” Kenma asks. “That miasma?”

She nods. “There’s a higher concentration of that miasma clinging to you. I suspect it has to do with your location. You’re quite high up in the mountain, right? That’s out of the bounds of the sort of magical potency in here. And even with your sensitivity to magic, if you had miasma clinging to you…”

“It would be harder to sense,” Kenma finishes. “Because you’d have to feel like it was more than whatever was already there. Magic is different, so it’s still easy to sense, but since miasma is more of the same…”

She nods. “That’s it. It’s probably just because of location, though.”

“…Right,” Kenma says. He sighs. 

“What are you so worried about?” Yachi asks. “I mean, ah, not that it’s not okay to worry, I worry a lot about things too, but—”

“I’m not worried,” he says. He sighs again. “I just was thinking about how I’m going to have to ask my friend a few things.”

Yachi nods in understanding. “You don’t want to bother him, right?” She smiles. “But if he’s your friend, it should be alright.”

“I’m sure it will,” he says. “But lately, I’ve been feeling that curiosity is a dangerous thing.”

Shimizu looks at him oddly. “Kenma,” she says, slowly, “I might be overstepping, but… if something has you, who delved so far into magic that you were delivered to the king and kept on doing what you do, fearful of being curious, then it must be a frightening thing indeed.”

“Sometimes,” Yachi says, “it’s the sweetest things you have to be afraid of, though.” She looks Shimizu in the eye. “When a good thing is so good, you’d do a lot of things to keep it.” 

“I suppose so,” Shimizu murmurs. “Then, what is so good, or so bad that it has you frightened?”

He doesn’t know how to answer. Even if he could tell them about Kuro, about the dream demon, he still doesn’t think he could answer. 

“Tell me if this is cursed.”

Kuro catches the book Kenma’s tossed in his hands, wincing slightly at the weight. “Not going to bother with a proper welcome?” he asks. 

Kenma snorts. “I should say the same to you.”

Though it’s not often, Kenma has woken to see Kuro’s face hovering above his head, peering curiously at him as if he were seeing Kenma for the first time. It’s not often, but every time it happens, Kenma feels like it’s the first time he’s seeing Kuro too, learning how to read him all over again, and that knowledge makes his chest twist in a way that feels decidedly unreal. 

“It’s not cursed,” Kuro says, rifling through the book before snapping it shut. “What, why?” 

“I got a delivery for it,” Kenma says. “Not sure why.”

Kuro pauses. “Ah, I see,” he says, voice distant. His thumb stills in the middle of the book, digging into the page, and he pries the book open slowly, eyes scanning the words on the pages instead of looking for any type of magical ills. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Nothing, really,” Kuro says. “I just, I guess it makes sense there’s not any curses in this book. I guess maybe some people would think the other way around, but—”

“Why? What’s in the book?” He cranes his neck up at where Kuro’s sitting with his criss-crossed legs in the air. 

Kuro turns the book towards him and holds it open. “I… I didn’t know you had an interest in it.” He swallows. “Curse-breaking, that is.”

“If it’s making you this uncomfortable, then I’m losing my interest by the minute,” Kenma says. “No, I’ve never—Kageyama says I have a natural talent for it, but I don’t… there’s not really a practical way for me to put it into use.”

“So Kageyama sent this?” Kuro muses. “What a strange way to do it.”

“No, this isn’t from Kageyama,” Kenma says. At Kuro’s look of worry, he adds, “if—if you’re worried about something, I haven’t told anyone but him about you—” At Kuro’s stricken expression, he knows he’s hit a nerve. 

Kuro stares at him. “Kenma—” he says. 

“Are you—are you cursed?” Kenma asks, and before Kuro can respond, he’s swirling out of the dream and into the early morning, curse-breaking book held close to his chest.

“Kindiachi and Kumini—I mentioned them, right?” Kageyama pauses in the middle of his thought, looking towards Kenma for reassurance. 

He nods. “They’re the assholes you don’t like.”

“Well—ok, they’re not assholes, I just don’t… get along with them. Which was maybe my fault, but—you’re right. I don’t really like them.” He takes a deep breath. “They mentioned that they’d been out in the forest about a week ago, doing just a routine check, hoping to come across any demons, monsters, that type of thing… and they saw something really terrifying. They wouldn’t tell me what it was, but—”

“So they’re luring you out into a forest to end up in life-threatening danger?” Kenma asks, voice a little too shaken to come off as level. 

“No! They were just warning me,” Kageyama says. “Ok, well, not exactly, but…”

“You’re planning on going,” Kenma says.

“It wasn’t a monster, or anything physical, really,” Kageyama clarifies. “Just… this nagging sense of danger that spooked them.”

“And you’re telling me this because…?”

Kageyama looks at the floor. “I mean… aren’t you curious?”

Kenma glares at him. 

“Maybe I do want to prove a little that I’m brave,” Kageyama mutters. “Your fault for having all these mysterious adventures, you know.”

“Right, because kidnapping is exactly what I need to spice up my life,” Kenma grumbles. He sighs. “I am curious, though. You’re not wrong. But you know what people say, after all. Curiosity killed the cat.”

“And satisfaction brought it back,” Kageyama quips. “I’m convinced you’ve already said this to me.” 

Kenma smiles. “Alright, I’ll do it,” he says. “But let me talk to Kuro first. Wake me up a few minutes after I fall asleep and then I’ll tell you.”

“Great,” Kageyama says. “Because Hinata is going to be here in a few minutes,” he says. 

“You’ve grown really close to him, huh?”

Kenma watches as Kageyama turns a careful pink, a determined edge to his mouth. “Yeah,” he says, like an exhale of weight. “I guess. He’s just… Hinata, you know. I don’t think I could not be friends with him. He makes me feel at ease, and he understands me even when he’s being a dumbass.”

“He is hard to not become friends with,” Kenma agrees. “He’s just… very interesting?” 

Kageyama snorts. “Weird way to put it, but sure. Interesting. I actually invited him over for a reason, though.” 

“You were scared and thought that I might refuse to go?”

“I just… you know,” Kageyama says. “I don’t really… like the dark.” 

Kenma blinks at him. “So… moral support?”

“Hinata is just… bright,” Kageyama explains. “Personality-wise, but like also literally. There’s this low-level magic that just sort of… emanates from him, because he doesn’t have a grip on all of it yet. It’s useful.”

“And you like it,” Kenma adds. If Hinata was just there to be a glorified lantern, well, there are stones that are much more efficient, and Kageyama is fully capable of sustaining such a low-level spell. 

After a tense moment, Kageyama nods. “You’ll understand when you really see it,” he says. “It’s just nice.” 

Kenma makes himself comfortable on the sofa he’s been sitting on. He closes his eyes. “Wake me up in fifteen,” he says, and then he waits for sleep to wash over him.

It takes a while, at first. Kenma can’t sleep instantly, and hearing Kageyama fret over him and shift around makes it hard to really calm down, at first, but eventually, he feels the ache of his body slip away, and opens his eyes to find Kuro blinking down at him. 

“Kuro!” he says. “You—you surprised me.” 

Kuro drifts away a little, giving him room to breathe and reorient himself. “You surprised me, more like. Your location feels different. Where are you? Are you okay? Who’s with you?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Kenma says, sitting up. “How did you find me that other time? When I was… you know. Locked up.”

Kuro shrugs, evasive. “I just had a feeling.” 

“I’m at Kageyama’s house,” Kenma continues, deciding to spare him from an interrogation. It’s not like he has much time, after all. He’s planning on going out to the woods by the west side of the town…? And I was just—”  

“Wondering how easy it would be for you to get killed?”

Kenma laughs. “No…?”

Kuro squints at him. “Did I overreact a little?” 

“No, that’s… that’s kind of what I told him, too. The forest here… it’s actually not that dangerous, though. Ukai’s presence kind of makes it a weak spot for demons. And Kageyama and Hinata together are pretty strong.” 

“Why are you going, then?” 

“There’s this… sense of danger, apparently,” Kenma says. “Around a certain area in the far side of the woods. “Not real, physical danger. Just a sense. Kageyama wanted to check it out.” 

Kuro hums thoughtfully. “You know how to call me, right?”

“Fall asleep?”

“No, you won’t need to. It’s already nighttime, after all. Just…” He floats closer to Kenma, flustering him in the same way that he felt when he woke up, only this time it’s a slower, more simmering kind of feeling. Kuro takes Kenma’s hand gently, and places it over his heart, solid and beating steady, a dream so real it feels like it goes further than reality itself. “I don’t have to say it, do I?” 

“Just a wish,” Kenma murmurs. “Just one wish, and—”

Kuro smiles, and he’s seen him smile before, but he takes careful notice, now, of the way his eyes crinkle in a sweet, earnest delight. “I’ll be right there,” he promises. 

“You think it’ll be fine to go?” he asks.

Kuro sighs. “Not like I could stop you. Besides… I have a feeling I know what you’ll see. I can’t tell you what it is, but if it’s you, Kenma… it’s something that I think you should be there for.” 

“Okay,” Kenma says. “You know, if you said no, I wouldn’t have gone. I wouldn’t even let Kageyama or Hinata go on their own.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” Kenma says, and he’s suddenly hyper-aware of his hand against Kuro’s heart, the steady beat that quickens its pace a little, “I trust you.” 

Then he sees the background swirl around him, and nods at Kuro once before he lets himself be pulled back to reality. 

Like he’d told Kuro, the forest to the west side of the city isn’t as dangerous as it looks. The top of the forest is a thick, heavy canopy that blocks out all but a few moonbeams, but apart from the swelling dark and they make their way deeper into the forest, there’s nothing else that seems to be amiss. 

Hinata is literally beaming as they make their way through a tangle of roots and leaves, glow expanding wide from his smile and skin. It’s impossible to miss the way Kageyama carefully watches him, like he’s trying to commit the vision to memory. Kenma himself isn’t immune to marveling at just how bright his presence feels, so he understands it. It’s a little irresistible, especially in the dark. 

“Do you know where you’re going?” Kenma asks.

“Don’t worry, I’m not Hinata,” Kageyama assures, ignoring the squawk of outrage at that comment. “I know. I can kind of feel my way to it, too.” 

He turns them to the right, and floats them gently over a few saplings before going forward. His eyes are fixed firmly on the ground and the map he’s clutching in his hands. Kenma carefully watches him, wondering when Kageyama will stop trying so hard to keep his hands from trembling. It makes him look more nervous.

Hinata glimmers then, and his light extends farther, farther forward until it blacks out in a sharp, harsh edge. 

Kenma whistles. “Well, that’s something.”

“Do you not… feel it?” Kageyama asks. 

“I mean, I’m not good with magic yet,” Hinata says, “but that’s… even I can tell it’s terrifying.”

If anything, they should be feeling better, Kenma thinks. The trees up above have thinned out, and the moon is bright above, illuminating the path along with Hinata’s light. “Can’t feel a thing,” he confirms, taking a few, tentative steps forward. Even the ground here is clear, a soft, worn path leading the way forward. 

Kageyama swallows. “I don’t think Kindaichi and Kunimi got this far,” he says. “Just… standing here feels hard somehow. My mind knows there’s nothing, but…” 

“Huh,” Kenma says. “Is it… is it a magical sensitivity thing?” 

Kageyama blinks at him. “Might be. Do you feel anything? You usually have a good sense for these kinds of things.”

Kageyama is half-right. It’s not that he doesn’t feel anything, it’s just that the magic he can feel, coming in concrete points in front of him, doesn’t feel oppressive or dark or terrifying, but rather familiar. He recalls Shimizu’s earlier explanation of miasma. “I think I’ve lost my touch,” he mutters. “Let me get closer to check it out, though.” He points to the two of them. “You stay a few steps back and don’t come close if you don’t want to.” 

“No, we’ll follow,” Hinata says, grabbing Kageyama’s wrist. “It’s just… a sense.”

Kenma walks to the space where all the light cuts out, and presses his hands tentatively against the edge. A burst of white flickers through his vision, and he grasps the sight of a few, flickering symbols. “These are wards,” he tells Kageyama, and feels around the wall before him, tracing his hands against the runes. The most familiar one is a large spiral, a symbol that often means air or space. Before he can feel around for the rest and really analyze them, the wards softly give, and he presses through to the other side. 

When he turns around, Kageyama and Hinata are nowhere in sight. He reaches back behind him, and touches empty air. Space, he thinks, a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Then he looks forward, and the air leaves his lungs. A tall, spiraling tower stretches up to the sky, glowing lanterns circling the outer edges and spilling moonlight down to the ground below. The forest is nowhere in sight—the tower stands stark against a wide, open field, the edges of his vision shrouded not by trees but a thick wall of shadow. 

Kuro, Kenma thinks, and then feels a bit silly for trying to think at him instead of finding a wish. He sits down and inhales, then exhales, and repeats that for a good minute. Best to be calm. I wish that Kageyama and Hinata know that I’m safe. 

“...Kenma?” 

He smiles even before he opens his eyes. “Hey, Kuro,” he says. 

“I already went and told them,” Kuro says. “Sorry I made you wait. I just figured that they would want to know as soon as possible, and, well…” He stares at the ground. “Once I got here, it would be a lot harder to leave to do anything else, I think.”

“You did the right thing,” Kenma says, standing up. He gestures towards the tower. “Are you going to accompany me there?” 

Kuro stares up at the tower and sighs. “Kenma,” he says, “I can’t go?” 

“What? Why not?” Kenma asks, startled. 

“It’s not… it’s not within my bounds,” Kuro says. “Kind of. I mean, I can only be here right now because of your wish, but that’s not going to last once you’re inside there.” 

“What do you mean, it’s not going to last?” 

“Kenma,” Kuro says, voice strangled. “I can’t. You’ll just have to—”

“Trust you?” 

“Yeah,” Kuro says with a wince. “Trust me.”

“Do you… want me to go to that tower?” Kenma asks.  

Kuro closes his eyes. “I do,” he says. “But I think you’ll be in danger if I ask you too. And… and I don’t want to ever put you in danger.”

“I’ll go,” Kenma says, surprising even himself. 

“Why?” Kuro asks. 

“You said I would be in danger. You didn’t say I would get hurt,” he says. “And I know that no matter what, if I was going to get hurt, you would tell me.” 

“I would,” he says. “And… I don’t know if I could have told you to go a month ago. But now… now it feels like I have to let you do this.”

“I’m just too curious for my own good,” he replies. “And if you tell me to go, then there’s really no way I can turn back, can I?” 

“Okay,” Kuro breathes, a small smile gracing his lips, “okay.” Then: “Can you give me your hand?” 

Kenma holds out his left hand to him, and Kuro grasps it steadily, using his free hand, to press the imprint of a five-petaled flower with his thumb. Kenma’s palm glows a weak, flickering gold that dissolves into an inky midnight blue, and he feels a warm hum through his body. 

“It won’t do much,” Kuro says. “I just wanted to do it, anyways.”

“There’s no magic in this?” Kenma asks, tentatively flexing his hand. 

“None,” Kuro confirms. “It’s just… a link.”

It feels like magic, Kenma thinks. Feels just as magical as anything else Kuro has given him. There’s that same warm, blooming feeling coursing through his veins, a power that makes him feel on top of the world. 

“I have to go now,” Kuro says. “Stay safe.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Kenma mutters. “I have so much to talk to you about, and especially after this, you’re not going to be able to escape me.”

Kuro smiles, a little wobbly, a little confident. “You’re too curious.”

Then he’s gone, and Kenma finds himself staring at the tower again, and despite its height, it seems a little less intimidating than before. He curls his hands into fists, and marches his way past the entrance. 

Reassuringly, Kenma does know Kuro enough to understand what he means. He’s made his way up the floors of the tower with nothing to speak for it but physical exhaustion, but there is this nagging, screaming sense in his mind that maybe he should be going the other way. He wonders if this is what Hinata and Kageyama were talking about. He’s felt worse fear before, though. Compared to that, this feels dulled, barely a whisper in comparison. 

What’s stranger than all of that is the magic he can feel from the walls. The symbols imprinted on the stone are so strong that they feel as if they’re shouting in his ear, blaring out seal seal seal seal seal seal in various configurations and patterns that spiral around the stairs of the tower. He keeps checking his hands to make sure that the fingerprinted flower is still there on his palm. When he sees it, he exhales in relief, a sound so full of life it reverberates through the halls in front of him. 

The tower is nothing like the cell he’d been thrown in near the palace, but it carries that same odd quality. Magic, in this case, is rife within the walls, unlike the absence of it that he’d felt, but there’s that same dead air that hangs around the tower. It magnifies his every movement. Echoes carry so far they seem to never die out, and even the beating of his heart feels like it’s shaking the foundations of the rooms he explores. 

He’s climbed around seven floors when the glow of magic almost blinds him with its intensity. Kenma squints against the light and finds that this room is lined with a soft, red plush carpet, and where before he’d used the magic and moonlight to light his way, torches cast a well-lit path in the corridor he’s in. 

The magic, however, overwhelms. Kenma screws his eyes shut and slows his pace, skimming his fingers across the wall of the tower as he inches forward. Seal seal seal seal seal… He wonders just what this tower is imprisoning, since it’s so easy to walk into. He moves his hand up to feel for the symbols, and finds a new line of seal seal seal scored into the walls. As he follows along, he feels the line of symbols snaking downwards. 

Carefully, he opens one eye. The light from the runes shines like a piercing spear into his eyes, and he quickly shuts his eye closed. He can still see the imprint of the light as his hands move along the wall. One thing he’s confirmed, though—the light is brighter than it was at the end of the corridor, and these lines of symbols are probably all linked to one source. He walks for an unsteady minute before his hand brushes against a deep carving. With both hands, he turns to face the wall, and presses his hands against the cuts within the stone. The strokes feel as wide as his arms, and as he traces against the lines, he brushes into a rune within the rune. 

It’s barely readable against the hard stone—a subtle imprint when compared to everything else in the room. But it’s the same one that had led him here in the first place: space. 

Tentatively, he presses against it. The wall gives before him. Kenma trips forward and tumbles into a minimally furnished room, a stark contrast from the exterior.

His eyes flash open in surprise as he breaks his fall. The white, blinding light of seal is still burned into the back of his brain, but this room is absent of those entirely. The dark of the forest that had given way to the moon and light seems to rush back into his vision, cloaking the room in thick shadows. 

Now again, the air is unnaturally still. 

In the dark, he comes face to face with a pair of blinking yellow eyes. 

He freezes in his position on the floor, watching as the eyes blink at him carefully. 

Kuro, he remembers, and breathes in, slowly. Danger is the right word for it, after all. 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I won’t be scared.” 

The lights in the room snap on. Kenma comes face to face with a boy his age, staring at him with an expression of pure terror. “How did you get here?” 

Apart from the yellow eyes, there’s not much similarity with Kuro. But Kenma still can’t help the rush of tentative affection that flows through him. Maybe it’s because he knows that this is what Kuro anticipated, and it’s surprisingly not bad to fall right into a trap of someone’s design if you trust the person involved. “There’s a forest by the town I live in,” Kenma answers, trying to keep his voice as level-headed and calming as possible. “I went into the forest, and found myself here.

“I know where the town is,” the boy says. While he’s as tall as Kuro, he’s still taller than Kenma, and his hair is black and slightly wavy, framing his face in the soft light. “How did you get here from the forest? No one’s been here, since—” He cuts off the rest of his sentence. 

Dimly, Kenma recalls a conversation he had with Kuro about a stone tower, and a person within it. He feels a little foolish for not remembering it earlier, and collects his thoughts. “Well, I guess it was something like a challenge,” Kenma replies. “A friend of mine heard from some other magicians that there was some really strange sense of danger, and we came across some wards. For some reason, I wasn’t affected like the others were, and I ended up falling through them by accident. And then… well, I just kept continuing on.”

“How stupid,” the boy scoffs. 

“I would’ve returned,” Kenma says with a shrug. “I was convinced into doing otherwise. And I have a question for you, now. Two, actually.” 

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking questions,” the boy says.

Kenma chooses to ignore him. “One: are you some type of demon? And two: are you also whatever the tower is trying to seal?”

The boy stares at him in shock. 

“Or cursed,” Kenma adds. “That’s a new theory I’m working off of, though. It’s the yellow eyes.”

“You know other people who have—who have those yellow eyes?” the boy asks, scrambling to sit in front of him. His hands, however, stay stiffly folded in his lap, drawn as close to his chest as possible. 

Kenma nods. 

“What—who are they?” Akaashi asks. 

He tilts his head in consideration. “Well, the person I know with yellow eyes is kind of annoying. But he’s kind and compassionate and gentle with others. He’s always encouraging me and helps me grow. I don’t know anyone nicer than him.” At Akaashi’s befuddled look, he adds, “I don’t think I can say anymore without betraying his privacy. But… I trust him with my life. So like I said, I won’t be scared.”  

After a long silence, the boy finally says, “I’m Akaashi.”

“I’m Kenma,” he says, and extends a hand.

Instead of taking his hand, Akaashi talks. “I’m not… I’m not a demon or anything. Just a regular human, before all of… this.” He gestures to the room around him. “It’s a curse. If I touch things, they disintegrate. So, to answer your second question… yes. I’m what they’re sealing.” He looks at him curiously. “You’re the first magician that has ever made it here.” 

Kenma makes note of the sleek gloves present on both of Akaashi’s hands. He still hasn’t moved them from their initial position. “Not the first, since I don’t have any magic. That might be the reason I’m here.”

“You… you said someone sent you?” Akaashi asks. “...Who? Are they—do they kind of look like an owl, because—”

“Bokuto?”

“That’s his name?” Akaashi blurts out. He stares very firmly at the ground. “Well, yes. Bokuto,” he says. “Gray… hair?”

“I know… one of his friends,” Kenma says. “And I know you mean feathers. He’s an owl, right?”

“I’ve been calling him Stella,” Akaashi admits. “Bokuto… it’s a nice name,” he says. “Fits him.” 

“I guess my friend must have known you were here,” Kenma says. “So then it begs the question…” 

“Why he sent you here,” Akaashi completes for him. “Why did he want the two of us to meet?” 

The moment he came face to face with those yellow eyes, he knew what Kuro wanted. But just to confirm his suspicions… “You said I’m the first person that’s made it here?”

“Well, person, yes,” Akaashi says. “I didn’t think it was possible, with the wards…” 

“Apart from a sense of danger and the hidden entrances, there’s no actual protective wards here,” Kenma says. “Just the repetition of the symbol for seal. Since there’s that many, how dangerous is your curse?” 

“Incredibly,” Akaashi says. “Without the gloves, I wouldn’t be able to live at all.”  

“Don’t you ever want to go outside?” 

Akaashi stares at his hands. “I’ve wanted to since forever,” he admits. “Especially… you know, St—Bokuto… Bokuto has really sharp talons, but he’s never ripped my gloves. So then I kept asking myself if it was okay, if I could leave, even if just for a little while.” 

“And…?” Kenma prompts.

“I’m not usually this talkative,” Akaashi mumbles. “It’s taking a while for me to find my words.”

“I don’t talk much either,” Kenma agrees. “Some people make it easy, though.” 

Akaashi smiles. “That’s true. I know you haven’t met Bokuto, but he’s really… he’s like the brightest star. It’s so easy to be around him.”

“Whenever it happens, I’m sure it will be nice to meet him,” Kenma says as a formality, but Akaashi’s not really listening, anyways. . 

“I don’t know how to leave,” he says. “The wards… they might have let you in, Kenma, but they won’t let me out.”  

He thinks back to the package he’d received the day before. “That explains it, then.”

“Hm?”

“My friend—Bokuto’s friend—Kuro sent me here to break you out,” Kenma says. “I know it.”

“I don’t know,” Akaashi says with measured hesitance. “I mean, it’s probably impossible…”

“Well, at the very least, I think you could use another friend,” Kenma says. “Seriously.”

“I… Kenma, you’re a very interesting human,” Akaashi says. “You said you don’t talk too much. You’re far too convincing for me to believe that.” He meets Kenma’s eyes. “Sure,” he says. “If you can make it here again, I’ll believe you.” 

“Will you finally shake my hand now?” Kenma asks. “You’re wearing gloves, so it’s fine.” 

“That flower,” Akaashi says, his gaze trained on the ink on Kenma’s palm. “It’s beautiful.”

A pleasant warmth floods through him. “It really is,” he agrees. “It’s… a gift. From Kuro.”

With a determined look on his face, Akaashi grasps his hand and firmly shakes it. His eyes light up like he’s discovered a new power. “Your friend,” he says, “is very good at gift-giving.”

Kenma wonders how Akaashi has been living here his whole life, just waiting to be found. How it happens to be that Kuro knows Bokuto and Bokuto knows Akaashi and Kuro knows him and now he knows Akaashi because he’s the only person without magic who would be strange enough to come here, and that’s because he knows Kuro. He thinks again about the new book he’s received, and thinks that maybe some things are just meant to be coincidences. 

He does not tell Akaashi the best gift I have from Kuro is the gift of his presence, because some things are so sappy they’re not meant for anywhere else but the deeply mortified crevices of his brain. 

“So,” Kenma says, “I met Bokuto’s person today. Though I assume you already knew that.”

Kuro’s eyes light up like a hawk. “You met Akaashi? How did it go?”

“Well, you were right about me being in danger,” Kenma replies dryly. “Though you didn’t mention mortal peril.”

“Were you scared?” Kuro asks.

“Only for a moment,” Kenma sighs. “But… I know why you wanted us to meet. And you were right to push me into doing it.”

“Really?” 

“Really,” Kenma confirms. “Like you said, I was curious. And now I have something to do.” 

He holds up the curse-breaking book he’d dug out from under his bed. “Looks like we have some reading to do.” He squints at Kuro. “For Akaashi. Unless it’s also for you?”

“I’m a demon, through and through,” Kuro says. “I’m not like him.”

“And yet you freak out when you see a curse-breaking book?”

Rather than answer, Kuro hovers by his shoulder, a contemplative look on his face. “Don’t you… want to rest?” 

Kenma frowns. “I am resting.” 

“Not enough,” Kuro mutters. “You should sleep for the rest of tonight. We can start tomorrow. You just traveled through an entire forest and went through warped space. You need a full recovery. If you’re awake in your dreams that’s not going to make you feel any better.” 

“Won’t it be boring for you?” Kenma asks. 

“Maybe,” Kuro says. “I don’t really care. And you gave me a new book a few days ago, didn’t you?” 

“I… did,” Kenma says, and his eyelids grow heavy. He glares at Kuro. “You’re—” he yawns—“evil.” 

“Only for you,” Kuro replies, and if Kenma wasn’t slipping into a deep sleep right now, he would spend the rest of the night trying to figure out what that means.  

“He let you go alone?” Kageyama shrieks. 

“He was right,” Kenma retorts. “There was no one there. It was fine.”

Kageyama narrows his eyes. “There was something, wasn’t there,” he says, slowly. “And you can’t tell me because…?”

“Because I’m not allowed to,” Kenma says. “Not in a bad way. In a ‘I promised’ kind of way.”

“And nothing bad happened?”

“Nothing,” Kenma confirms. 

“Still,” Kageyama shouts, close to tearing out his hair. “He said he’d keep you safe in case something happened! And then he let you go alone!” 

“He gave me the option to just leave,” Kenma snaps. “I—there’s no way I was going to not go. And I think he knew what I was going to—to not find, or whatever.” 

Kageyama sighs. “Fine. I’m not happy about it, though.”

“Okay, good,” Kenma sighs. “Just remember you can’t expect him to do everything. Kuro’s great, but he’s not some kind of all-powerful being.” 

Kageyama nods. “He feels like one, though, doesn’t he?” 

Kenma tilts his head. “...No, not really.”

“Even when you hadn’t met him?” 

“He looked like a kid, then,” Kenma reminds him. “I was too, but even I knew he wasn’t some kind of all-powerful person. I was just scared.”  

“I… is there really no way you can tell me anything?” Kageyama says. 

“I made a new friend,” Kenma says. “I can tell you that much.” He takes a deep breath. “And I’m going to start reading that curse-breaking book. I don’t think I’ll become an overnight genius, but it seems like your prediction was right, after all.”

Kageyama furrows his brows. “As long as you’re happy,” he finally says. “Anyways, after Kuro talked to us, me and Hinata…” 

“The miasma has grown thicker,” Shimizu observes. She raises an eyebrow. “I assume you have an explanation for this one, too?” 

“Sworn to secrecy,” Kenma says with a sigh. “But this one I might be able to tell you after some time.” 

She smiles and gestures at the simple bundle of flowers he’s holding. “Are those for me? I don’t remember asking for any, but lilies are quite useful in some medicine—”

“They’re for Yachi,” Kenma interrupts. “I figured it would be easiest to give it to her here.” 

As if on cue, Yachi walks into the entrance and catches sight of the flowers. “Kenma!” she exclaims and rummages around in her pockets. He gently deposits the flowers in her free, outstretched hand, and takes the money from the other. 

She turns to Kiyoko, face pink, and offers them out. “They’re for me, but they’re actually for you,” she says. “I guess I could have just had Kenma give them to you, but I wanted to—Kenma’s great! But I still… oh, and I guess you would have had to pay if you got them from Kenma, so maybe it was good I did it after all…” She clears her throat. “I wanted to thank you, for, um, everything you’ve done. And I hope that we can… keep doing this for a long time. For forever? I don’t know, that’s maybe too much…”

“Forever.” Shimizu is staring at Yachi, her mouth open in a small gasp, like she’s seeing something far beyond and hard to comprehend. Then she collects herself. “Forever is fine for me, Hitoka. I wouldn’t mind that at all.” 

He feels, very acutely, that he shouldn’t be here. And it’s not a lonely feeling, or a sad one, but the realization is sharp and startling—this nagging, tugging feeling that he needs a scene much like this one, where the world seems to fall away. He realizes then that maybe he does already have something like this, and it’s an odd thing to sit with, to realize that something is already within your reach, within your grasp, but not quite there. 

His eyes stray to Shimizu without much thought, and he recognizes the softening of her expression as something Kuro often does, and wonders what it would be like if Kuro were real—realer than he already is, with his supposed bones and whatnot—and standing in front of him, feet planted firmly on the ground. 

Yachi is right. Forever is a long time, longer than maybe he can even conceptualize, but with some people forever just feels like an inevitability.

“Do you like fairy tales?” Kenma asks, when they meet again. Kuro had gone for his monthly disappearance, and Kenma would say it was a classic avoidance technique, but Kuro had told him about this before the whole tower situation had even happened.

Kuro looks at him, a mixture of shock and confusion clear on his face. 

“The books that I bring,” Kenma clarifies, “do you enjoy them?” Of course, he knows that Kuro has been expecting a confrontation. Some sort of ultimatum about the nature of curses and the nature of himself. It’s not an incorrect assumption. But after seeing Shimizu and Yachi, he’s come to appreciate the virtue of patience and caution. Kuro seems almost like a skittish kitten within the gray space. 

"Yeah, I do," Kuro says. "Why?" 

Kenma traces the raised lettering of the curse-breaking book. "You must find it weird that I study so much magic."

Kuro frowns. "You're good at it, why would it be strange?" 

"I can't do any myself," he replies. "I... know things, but it's kind of meaningless, when it comes to... careers, and everything. I used to avoid it for a while." 

"But you're not," Kuro says. "You read magic books all the time."

"I've mostly gotten over that," he agrees. "Magic is... nice. I just didn't think it was nice, for a time. Because every time, when I fell asleep, I had these horrible, horrible dreams, and magic wasn't helping with that. I was—I still am—powerless against whatever that was."

"Kenma..." 

"You know Kageyama wanted to get me into curse-breaking years ago?" he says. "I wouldn’t even let him talk to me about it.” 

Surprise colors Kuro’s voice. “You’re so curious about everything that it’s hard to believe. I didn’t know that. Why...” 

“The reason why isn’t that important,” Kenma continues, because it’s hard to say something like I feel insignificant or I don’t feel like I’m enough to be anything special when someone like Kuro is in front of him. And he has been very special as of late, for the right reasons or the wrong ones, even if that special importance is all because of Kuro. But it’s the same reason he hasn’t asked Kuro about the miasma. Even now, he still catches flashes of guilt in Kuro’s gaze, like he’s only a few steps from running away.

He clears his throat. “What I’m saying is that we all have things we don’t like to touch or talk about. But... I still like studying magic. And a lot of it isn't because of these books,” he says, pointing at the textbook in front of him, “but it’s the fairy tales. You know that the art in those books is done with magic, right?” 

“Right,” Kuro says, quickly catching on. “It enhances the art and makes the story come alive. It’s magic, but it’s not dangerous, or powerful, or anything, but...” 

“But it’s important,” Kenma concludes. “Even a small thing like that is important. That’s why I like magic. Even if I can’t cast it, it’s a part of this world. And we’re always interacting with it somehow. It’s not something you can run away from, and I... I didn’t want to run away from it, either.” He takes in a deep breath. “Kuro... you sent me up that stone tower to meet Akaashi.” 

Kuro frowns. “You’re not... mad about that, right? I thought—you know, it seemed like it would be good for the two of you—“

“I’m not mad,” he says with a smile. “But if Akaashi has a curse, I can’t just let go of the opportunity that’s presented itself to me, right? Whatever is going on with you... I won’t push. For now, at least.” 

Kuro studies him for a long time. “I... when I disappear each month... I visit the royal palace,” he finally says. At Kenma’s stricken expression, he adds, “A little bit of vulnerability for yours, okay? You’re not pressuring me. It’s fine.”

Kenma smiles helplessly. “Thank you,” he says. His mind is racing. Why does Kuro visit the palace every month? Is this why he knows so much? Is this how he was able to get Kenma released? 

As if Kuro’s reading his mind, he says, “I... the royal palace does a lot of magical experimentation. Because I’m a demon, I can feel it. It’s in the aura of the land itself—things just come out differently. I... like to keep track of what’s going on there.”

Because of me? Kenma wants to ask, but that feels too presumptuous. It’s the only explanation he knows, though, and if it’s true, then... Then he doesn’t know how to feel. That kind of thing is too much. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ve only been there once, but I can see how it would bring up bad memories.” 

“Is it frightening?” 

He closes his eyes for a brief moment and remembers the sheer terror and isolation, the steadily mounting panic, the realization that at any point, he could be dead— “Not with you,” he says, carefully. “But I don’t think I’d want to go back. I don’t know what you went through to get me back, but I doubt your experience was pleasant. Is it frightening for you, too?”

“A little,” Kuro says. “But I’ve made my peace with it at this point.” After a moment, he adds, “That curse-breaking book of yours... it’s within the hidden libraries of the royal palace. It’s not cursed, but it’s something. Do you—”

“I understand,” Kenma says. “It’ll be okay, though. It’s not cursed. And I trust you.”

Tentatively, Kuro smiles. “No worries. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I want to keep you safe, too,” Kenma says, casting his gaze downwards. It’s embarrassing, to promise something like this, but he feels he has to, anyways. “With whatever power I have,” he continues, swallowing down whatever insecurity comes along with it. “I want to help you. I don’t want you to just watch over me all the time.” 

At that, Kuro sighs, but his smile grows from tentative to relaxed, and it makes Kenma feel like something has righted itself. He doubts that Kuro will ever stop being mysterious, but slowly and surely, Kenma is learning more about him. For now, he contents himself with tucking into his book with Kuro by his side. 

“Kenma,” his mother says with a sigh, “you’re sixteen now, correct?” 

He nods. “Is this about the—”

“When you came home well past midnight, last week, without Kageyama or Ayako knowing where you were? Yes.”

He winces. “I… I can’t say I won’t do it again.” 

She frowns. “I know. You’re too stubborn for your own good, like that. I didn’t want to talk about it with you since you seemed so tired when you got back, but next time… you’ll have to warn me, okay? Even if it’s dangerous.” 

“I… yeah, sure. Is that it?” 

“You are sixteen,” his mother says. “You’ve been through a lot, and I know that Kageyama is regularly getting into far more dangerous situations. If I hold you back, I don’t think it would go that well.” 

“You’re probably right,” he says, and it’s nice to know that his mother understands him so well. Though she doesn’t talk about it often, he knows that she’d had her own crazy childhood. “Do you have any other questions?” 

“Not ones I think I’d get an answer from,” she says. “And I trust Ayako’s keeping you safe. She’s a bit reckless, but she’d never let the two of you get hurt. But don’t disappear on me like that.” Her hands curl into fists. “You have to understand… I can’t let you get spirited away by some stranger again, okay? You’re great at fending for yourself, but you don’t have to.” 

He blinks quickly before any tears can form in his eyes. It reminds him a little of what he’d wanted to say to Kuro. “Thanks,” he says. “What happened last time was… kind of unprecedented. But I know I can trust you.” 

She smiles. “That’s good. Have you met anyone new lately?” 

“Hm?” 

“You’ve been looking pretty excited lately,” his mother tells him. “Did you make a new friend?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I… hope you can meet them soon.” He’s promised Akaashi to keep his situation quiet until later, so he tries to think of a different topic. “How are you and Ayako?”

His mother looks surprised, but she quickly replies. “We’re—we’re doing well. How… how would you feel if we all lived together? You and me and Ayako and Kageyama.” 

Kenma considers it. “I think it would be… nice,” he says. “But I’d miss our garden.” 

His mother smiles again. “That’s how I felt, too. Ayako and I… we’re working things out. I… like her a lot, you know? She’s very—”

“You don’t need to say any more,” Kenma mutters, face warm. He’s seen the way Ayako looks at his mother, and it’s a little overwhelming when confronted by it. “I already know.” Unfortunately, it's too late to change the subject again.

She laughs. “Ah, you are sixteen,” she teases. “Romance still isn’t your thing? That’s fine—” 

“Romance isn’t the problem,” he whines, “it’s just—weird to hear about your parent—”

“Oh, she got me flowers the other day,” his mother says, and as nice as it is to see her lively, it makes him feel like he should crawl into a hole. “Sweet, if a little misguided.” Her voice grows quiet. “I love her, you know? I hope you don’t feel like it’s… like it’s a betrayal to your father, or anything.” 

Kenma sighs and clears his throat. “I didn’t know him that well, anyways,” he says. “And I’m happy that you’re happy?”

“And you, too?” his mother asks. “Are you happy?” 

Without hesitation, he nods. 

“What… are you doing?” 

Kuro’s hanging upside down from the air, contorting himself into an almost split, face twisted in concentration. “I’m stretching,” he calls out. “Can’t you hear these joints cracking?”

“You have bones?” Kenma blurts out.

Kuro looks bemused. “Yes, Kenma,” he says slowly, dragging the words out one by one, “I do have bones.”

“I don’t know,” Kenma says. “You could be a spectral form, or something.”

Kuro just smiles. “Well, then you’ve just managed to learn something new about me.” Before Kenma can dwell too hard on the implications of Kuro having bones, real bones, like a human, like whatever Kuro is, Kuro says, “I was reading your fairy tale book yesterday. The one about the girl. And the boy.”

“How descriptive,” Kenma says. “That’s almost all of them.”

“You know which one I’m talking about,” Kuro says. “It was about the mermaid.”

“Yeah, I do know.”

“So…” Kuro says, pausing to float around Kenma’s shoulder. “What did you think about it?”

“It was very pretty,” Kenma says. “And, well, I liked the ending.”

Kuro stares at him. “You liked the ending?”

“Mm.”

“But she throws herself into the sea!”

“Well,” Kenma says, “It was sad. But… it made sense to me.”

Now Kuro swims over his head and crouches down in front of him. “Explain it to me, then.” 

“It’s just that… she understood that she couldn’t kill him. She knew that she couldn’t have that life. It’s much better than anything else that could have happened.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice, though?” Kuro asks. “To have a happy ending.” 

“Of course it would be nice,” Kenma says. “But sometimes there are some distances you can’t cross. It was nice that it ended in a beautiful way rather than an ugly way.” 

“Still…” Kuro says. “I think that she should have lived with him. I think that it’s not impossible for that sort of thing to happen.”

“Is that something you want?” Kenma asks. 

“What?” 

“You seemed like you were speaking from experience,” Kenma clarifies. “What she wanted… is it something you want, too?” 

“In a more abstract sense… yes,” Kuro confesses. “I think it would be almost impossible, yes, but not entirely.”

“I’ll agree with you, then,” Kenma says. 

“Why?” 

“Recently…” Kenma says, “I’ve been thinking that dreams aren’t as unreachable as they seem. And I don’t want to believe in anything that means you don’t have a happy ending.” 

“Kenma,” Kuro says, choked up. “You can’t just say things. I’ll keep thinking about them, and it’s not like anyone else occupies my mind as much as you, you know?” 

“Same to you,” Kenma mutters, red in the face. “You can’t just say things like that, too. I’m not nearly as embarrassing.”
“How about we both don’t say anything, for the rest of tonight?” Kuro offers. 

Kenma leans against his side. Kuro startles a bit, but then Kenma feels him exhale, and slump against the wall, relaxing as much as he possibly can. They both don’t say anything, but Kenma still feels flushed and warm, feeling like he’s been caught in some type of contract that he doesn’t yet know the terms to.