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“Shiro’s home!” Neko’s voice happily rang out through the otherwise silent apartment. “Shiro’s home, Shiro’s home, Neko’s Shiro is home!” Shiro had already been home for a few days, but that didn’t curb Neko’s excitement at all. It was harder to concentrate on making dinner with loud noise in the background, but Kuroh couldn’t bring himself to tell her to be quiet. Though he’d never tell her, he found the constant reminder comforting. Shiro was home – finally, safe and sound. While Kuroh found it relieving, his good mood had been dampened – sorely so – from the dark cloud hanging over his head. He knew there was one hanging over Shiro as well – with the Gold King’s death and…Kuroh’s eyes darkened.
“Mishakuji Yukari…” The whisper slipped out unconsciously and he froze. He stopped stirring the boiling pot on the stove, his hands beginning to tremble. “Damnit!” He slammed his hand onto the edge of the counter, wincing as pain jolted through the limb. Neko’s excited chattering halted. He bit his lip to keep himself from making a sound.
“Kuroh?” That was Shiro’s voice, full of concern but betraying how tired he was. Kuroh felt even more guilty than he did already. He remembered the thrill of rushing through the air when battling Sukuna, the satisfaction when he felt a pleasant buzz thrum through his veins when he was standing with Shiro and Neko. Sukuna had been defeated, and then…he bit down harder on his lip. Yukari had shown up. Kuroh-chan. He’d teased. Kuroh been helpless to stop the other swordsman, helpless to protect his King and fellow clansman, helpless…Kuroh dimly registered footsteps that were coming towards him and that Shiro was repeating his name, Kuroh, Kuroh, Kuroh, growing more desperate each time. Kuroh whirled around, eyes wide, and Shiro smiled gently at him. The Silver King put his hand softly on Kuroh’s shoulder, but Kuroh recoiled. ‘Don’t. Don’t smile at me like that.’ His heart ached. ‘Not when I’m such a failure as a clansman.’ Kuroh couldn’t staunch the self-loathing he felt when he saw the hurt that flashed across his King’s face. But it was fleeting – so fleeting. Soon Shiro’s expression smoothed over, becoming a teasing smile. Kuroh turned back to the pot and stirred it violently, praying that Shiro would leave him alone, that he would see that Kuroh’s feelings weren’t worth the effort. “It looks like you’re trying to kill it.” Shiro’s voice was light, and Kuroh shrugged, turning off the stove’s flame. “If someone gave Mishakuji-san a beating like that, he’d –” Kuroh’s grip tightened on the spoon he was holding until his knuckles whitened. Shiro cut himself off, seeing how Kuroh had immediately tensed. “Kuroh…” There was finally understanding in his voice, and Kuroh cursed himself for revealing his vulnerabilities. Kuroh stepped away from the stove and finally faced his King. Wordlessly, Shiro stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around Kuroh’s waist.
“I’m sorry.” Kuroh hung his head, his shoulders curving as he slumped. “I’m really sorry.” He heard his voice break and clenched his hands into fists. He was so weak. He was a pathetic excuse for a clansman. If Ichigen-sama could see him now…
“Kuroh.” There was the stern voice that Shiro had gained while he’d been away. His arms tightened around his clansman. “If you think it’s your fault, it’s not.” Kuroh remained silent. “It’s not.” Shiro insisted. “I promise you it’s not. Even three kings weren’t enough to protect the Slate.” Shiro went still for a moment. “But I have a feeling you already know that. Then…” Kuroh could almost hear the whir of Shiro’s brain. “Mishakuji…?” Bingo. Kuroh heaved a sigh, and Shiro rested his head against his chest. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. He’s a formidable swordsman.” Kuroh knew he spoke the truth. He’d grown up beside Yukari, after all. He knew how skilful his senior was. “It’s okay, Kuroh.” It wasn’t. It wasn’t, damnit! He’d worked so hard. He’d grown so much in power and skill himself. But it still wasn’t enough – it would never be enough. Kuroh didn’t know that if Yukari went after Shiro and Neko that he would be able to save them. The thought of it scared him – terrified him.
“Kurosuke.” Kuroh’s head jerked up at Neko’s voice. She, too, was serious, her odd-coloured eyes filled with concern. He hadn’t even heard her approach, nor had any idea as to how long she’d been watching. She reached out to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “You’re not alone, Kurosuke!” Her eyes flashed with determination. “You have Shiro, and you have Neko! We’re a team!” Kuroh’s eyes widened. She was right. How could he have forgotten? The time they had spent together, looking for Shiro. He wouldn’t have been able to do it without Neko. Even before then, when Shiro had made them his clansman…they really were a team. His eyes burned and he reached up to rub them. “Shiro is Neko’s Shiro, but…Kurosuke is Neko’s Kurosuke too.” Her voice was very soft, and Kuroh felt like there was a lump in his throat.
“You’re mine too, Kuroh.” That was Shiro’s voice. Quiet, but full of warmth and affection. “And Neko is Shiro’s as well.” Kuroh knew she’d been pouting at having been left out. Kuroh suddenly felt a hand begin to stroke his hair and he took his hand away from his eyes. Neko was on her tiptoes, reaching up to pet him like how Shiro and Kuroh would pet her hair. He closed his eyes and relaxed into her touch. He could see why she was so happy when they played with her hair – it really was a nice feeling. Neko soon wormed her way into Shiro’s arms and then joined her King in wrapping her arms around the swordsman. Kuroh dropped his head into Shiro’s hair and inhaled deeply. Shiro smelt like home. Both of them wrapped around him felt like…like home. Kuroh realised then that home for him wasn’t a place, or a time. It was Shiro and Neko. I love you. The words did not need to be spoken. Kuroh allowed himself to finally relax. Shiro and Neko were safe. They were all alive. And, together, they would take on the rest of the world. They stayed like that for a while, before Neko began wriggling.
“Hey, hey, Kurosuke – when’s dinner?” Kuroh heaved an exaggerated sigh, but there was a smile on his face.
“I’m starving.” Shiro piped up, and Kuroh raised an eyebrow. He should have expected the sentimental mood to be spoiled by the pair’s stomachs.
“Let me heat it up for you.” He told them, extricating himself from their arms and turning to the stove. He expected them to go and sit down, but Shiro leaned against his right shoulder and Neko cuddled up against his left. Kuroh felt a smile tug at his lips. For the first time in months, everything truly felt…right.