Chapter Text
1~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kenma hated the woods.
The woods were cold and dark, even now when the sun was probably high in the sky. His feet hurt. There were brambles everywhere, catching in his robe as he walked. The branches were low and sometimes hit his backpack as he pushed past them, getting tangled up in the straps. The path that he was following couldn't even be called a proper path, and part of him worried that he'd actually missed the right path ages ago, or that he was just going in circles and not getting anywhere.
A part of him worried that he'd be lost in these woods forever.
No part of him wanted to turn back around, though. Not yet.
The only thing passably beautiful about the woods, in his mind, were the vines of white flowers that wound their way around the base of some of the trees. The sprays of flowers were like gatherings of delicate bells, pale flowers with narrow dark green leaves. They were almost beautiful.
The first time he'd seen them they'd been beautiful.
The first time he'd seen them he hadn't hated them.
Then again, it wasn't like it was their fault. Not really. They hadn't asked to be picked, after all. They hadn't asked for someone to come into their woods and take them out.
Still, he was only human, and it was easier to have something to be mad at. It wasn't like he could be mad at the person who'd picked them, anyways. Not right now. Not until things were fixed.
2~~~~~~~
"Look, Kenma!" a familiar voice cried out, banging open the door of their cottage.
Kenma made a slight noise of acknowledgment and continued to focus on the glass vial in his hand, carefully measuring out three drops of the blue liquid it held into the flask in front of him. He held his breath, waiting for the color change he knew should happen.
It did.
Carefully stoppering the vial Kenma finally turned to look at Kuroo, a frown instantly appearing on his face. "What in the world are those?"
"Flowers."
Sighing Kenma put the vial carefully in its case and jumped down off his stool, going over to examine the flowers in Kuroo's hands. He had to admit they were lovely. Sprays of delicate white blossoms, each with an array of five tiny stamens clustered around a white pistil. Oddly enough, the pollen on the flowers was a deep gray-green. "Where did you find them?" he asked, gloved fingertips carefully tracing the petals.
"Ah, well," Kuroo said.
Something in his tone made Kenma look up, frowning again. He'd hoped for an answer like 'the field' or 'around the side of the well' or even 'in one of the goodwives' gardens.' As Kuroo's silence wore on, however, he realized that the truth was something far worse. "Don't tell me you went into the woods again."
Kuroo shrugged.
Kenma's jaw clenched. "You know they told us not to go in there."
"Yeah, well they're just a bunch of frightened villagers."
"They said the woods are cursed!" Kenma said, frowning as Kuroo pushed the flowers into his hands.
"They're beautiful, Kenma. And just think - if I can find more flowers and herbs there, maybe you can expand the things you make! That'd be good for both of us, right?"
Frowning, Kenma turned to find a vase to put the flowers in. "That's not a good enough reason, Kuro. You know they say there's a witch that lives in the woods."
"Witches don't scare me," Kuroo said. "They shouldn't scare you either. You are one, after all."
Kenma shrugged. "Just a hearth witch. Not like a -"
The sound of crashing furniture made him whirl around, eyes going wide.
"Kuro?!"
3~~~~~~~~~~~
He thought it might be starting to get dark. It was hard to tell because it was already dark, and Kenma had absolutely no internal clock to speak of. He looked down at his feet, frowning at the moss and the rocks and wishing he had better shoes.
He wished he'd brought more to eat, too, and maybe more water. He hadn't thought it would take so long to find his destination.
All of a sudden, he heard a rustling above him and he shrank back, looking up. Two golden eyes peered down at him. He stared back, eyes wide with surprise until he realized that it was just an owl.
It was the first living creature he'd seen inside these woods. He wasn't sure that made him place any confidence in the appearance of the owl, though. It didn’t mean there were other creatures in the wood. Alive ones, at least.
"Whoooo?" the owl said, shuffling on its branch.
Kenma just watched him and breathed in and out, being careful not to utter a sound.
The owl hopped down to a closer branch, cocking its head to the side and hooting again. It didn't seem to be making any threatening gestures, though.
Maybe it was just curious.
Kenma watched it for a moment longer then carefully started back down the path, pausing as he looked back and saw that his footprints were faintly glowing.
These woods were creeping him out.
These woods, and the owl, who had kept its body facing forward but had turned its head to watch him.
Steeling himself Kenma turned around and kept moving, glancing over occasionally as the owl hopped from branch to branch to keep up with him. At one point he was fairly certain that the path branched to one side. He curled his hands up in frustration, wondering which way he was supposed to go.
It was a measure of how desperate he was that when the owl hopped onto a branch on the left-hand side of the trail, he decided to follow. The owl hooted in what seemed like approval. It didn't make him feel any better at all.
4~~~~~~~
"Kuro?" Kenma cried out, rushing over to where his best friend had fallen to the ground. The chair he'd been sitting in was on the floor, and one of their mugs had fallen as well. It hadn't broken. He noted that fact absently as he ran his fingers over Kuroo's head, trying to feel if the other man had hit it in his fall. He checked his pulse and was relieved when the beat was strong and steady.
Kuroo's face, however, was growing red. Kenma felt his forehead, frowning when he felt the fever in the heat coming off his skin. He shook Kuroo, trying to wake him up, but nothing helped. He was out cold and burning up. Not a good combination.
Kenma turned his head to glare at the flowers. He didn't know they were the things responsible for this. For all he knew Kuroo might have bumped into a poisonous vine while exploring. Exploring. Why the hell did he need to go exploring, anyway? They were fine, they made do. The town healer thought his potions were useful, and the headsman was more than willing to look the other way if he got a cut of the profits. Sure, being a hearth witch was technically illegal, but it wasn't like anyone in the village was going to cause them grief. Kenma was quiet, and stayed out of people's way, and had a reputation for being a very polite listener. He'd cultivated that reputation.
Kuroo had not. Kuroo's reputation was, to say the least, not one of staying quiet and polite.
He was kind, though. People did think he was kind.
5~~~~~~~
The flowers had started to glow as true night fell. It would've been beautiful if he hadn't been so preoccupied. The moss on the forest floor gave off a faint glow as well, and as Kenma looked back, he saw his footsteps glowing even brighter than the rest of the moss. If someone wanted to track him, they wouldn't have that hard a job.
He was tired.
The path ran up against a pool and he decided to stop and rest a moment by the water. He sat on a rocky outcropping near the small waterfall that fed into the pool. The path had widened into a sandy beach near this edge, and across the way Kenma could see tall lilies, heads bobbing in the breeze. They were glowing as well, the palest of blues and pinks. He could see the moon and stars overhead. It was beautiful.
Beautiful and cold.
The owl landed on a branch close by, hooting softly as Kenma took out a bundle out of his backpack and unwrapped a hunk of bread and cheese. It wasn't much.
He wished he'd taken more.
He hadn't had much to take, after everything, though.
He started nibbling at the bread, looking down into the water. There were tiny fish down there, glowing brightly against the darkness. They were probably no longer than his finger. Red and white, blue and white, pink, yellow - so many colors just darting over and around each other in some chaotic dance that looked perfectly harmonized. He blinked as a crumb from his bread fell down into the water and one orange fish darted up to claim it. Some of the other fish darted away in surprise, but the orange fish stayed, looking around for more, and soon enough a black and blue fish came up beside it as well.
Kenma looked down at his bread. He didn't have much, but surely he could share a bit of what he had.
He pinched off one corner of the loaf and crumbled it between his fingers, letting the tiny pieces fall to the surface of the water. The orange fish was the first to eat, of course, and then the black. But the other fish came back, each fighting for its own bit of food. One, a tiny white fish with orange and black markings, didn't get any. Kenma frowned and pinched off another piece, repeating the process. Again there was the scramble for food, and the poor fish didn't get a bit to eat. The third time was the charm, however. It made Kenma smile.
Then a breeze blew across the water, rippling the surface, and he remembered why he was there.
Shivering in the chill he took a bite of cheese before putting the food away. He stifled a yawn. There was a pile of moss over by the waterfall that was looking particularly inviting, but he couldn't sleep yet.
Not yet.
He still needed to go on.
6~~~~~~~
Kenma wasn't a strong man. If he had been, he would've tried to carry Kuroo to the village healer's house.
He wasn't the type of man who was gifted with animals, who could charm a bird into carrying a message for him.
There weren't any random children playing in the street outside their house.
For the longest time, he was at a loss. All he could do was check to see if Kuroo was still breathing because he was so still. Still, with red cheeks. Kenma felt helpless.
Kuroo was all he had in the world - his oldest friend, best friend. Kuroo was the one who stood up to people, who talked to people if there were any issues. Kuroo always made sure Kenma ate and took care of himself, and actually got to sleep at night.
Kuroo was the one who took care of him when he fell sick.
He didn't ever remember Kuroo falling sick.
His silent panic was broken by the sound of a knock on the door.
"Ken-chan," came a sing-song voice, "I was wondering if you had my lotion ready - oh."
Kenma looked up, eyes wide. Oikawa. Oikawa was one of the nicer customers he had. Well, nice to him at least.
Not so nice to Kuroo, but Kuroo wasn't exactly nice back. Kenma had come to the conclusion their relationship was at least friendly, however much that friendship was covered up in stinging words.
"What happened?" Oikawa said, pushing his way in through the door and kneeling beside Kuroo's body.
"I don't know," Kenma said. "He fell."
Oikawa pursed his lips and felt Kuroo's forehead. "Have you called for the healer yet?"
Kenma just looked at him, watching as Oikawa's gaze softened. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach out and pat Kenma on the shoulder. Kenma was thankful he didn't.
"Ok then," Oikawa said. "Would you like me to go get the healer for you?"
Nodding, Kenma looked down, feeling more inadequate than ever. "Please," he said, brushing the hair out of Kuroo's face.
"I'll be right back," Oikawa said. "It'll be alright, Ken-chan. Don't worry."
He did worry, though. He worried because Oikawa didn't know that Kuroo had been in the woods. He didn't know about the flowers. He didn't know that it was quite possible that everything would not turn out alright at all.
7~~~~~~~~~~
Kenma's toes felt frozen by the time he reached the next clearing. He was trying not to yawn, trying to remember to put one foot in front of the other. His arms were wrapped around his body, one hand clutching the locket at his neck.
There was a cottage in the clearing.
It didn't look like much, not really. Just a bunch of logs hewn together with a couple of windows. In the moonlight, Kenma thought that the door and windows might be painted, but he couldn't tell for sure.
Someone lived here though because smoke was coming out of the chimney and there was a faint glow around the edges of the window. They were probably already asleep.
The owl took off and landed on the roof of the cottage near the door, hooting softly and looking at Kenma. Was this it? Was this his destination?
Of course it was. Who else would live in a witch's forest?
He glanced back at the forest before stepping forward into the clearing, damp grass brushing against his robe as he walked. They were probably already asleep, but maybe it wouldn't hurt to check. Witches did keep strange hours, he knew.
He walked up to the door and raised his hand, glancing up at the owl before knocking.
The door swung open at his touch.
Frowning he glanced inside. No one was inside. There was a mug on the table, but the bed in the corner was made up with a colorful quilt and he didn't see anyone by the bookshelves. He knocked against the open door again. Maybe they'd just stepped outside? He glanced around the yard, but no one was there.
He shouldn't go inside.
The fire looked really inviting.
He hesitated, blowing on his fingers to try and heat them up, shivering even more as the breeze picked up behind him. It was so cold.
Surely the witch wouldn't begrudge him warming his hands by the fire, right? And it seemed rude to just leave the door open.
It was probably a mistake, but he was so tired. He looked around again, knocking at the wooden door once more to see if anyone would come to check on him, then stepped inside, stomping his feet on the rug. The owl flew in after him, moving to what Kenma had first taken to be a coat rack. The bar on top was perfect for the owl, though.
Maybe he was the witch's familiar.
For that matter, maybe he was the witch.
Kenma eyed him suspiciously and then closed the door, deciding that he'd find out sooner or later anyway. After a moment he shuffled off to the hearth. The fire was warm but low enough that he could kneel next to it and not feel burned.
The rug next to the hearth was soft and worn, and Kenma yawned again, moving enough to the side that could cross his arms and rest them on the brick. He was tired.
The witch would probably be back soon.
He should stay awake and wait. It was rude enough that he had just barged into a stranger's house.
He yawned again.
The heat was seeping into his bones now, making everything feel cozy. The house looked so nice inside. Maybe the witch would be kind. Maybe this wouldn't be hard, he could get what he needed and just go on his way.
Suddenly he was distracted by something moving out of the corner of his eye. He frowned, turning his head and spotting a small gray mouse creeping closer to him. He glanced up at the owl to see if it had noticed, but the owl seemed fast asleep.
What type of owl slept at night. Well, maybe one that was up most of the day shadowing him.
There was another mouse coming too, this one black. They were creeping closer, little noses sniffing.
Kenma wondered if they were hungry.
Sighing, he thought of his cheese. This was crazy. But they did look rather pitiful, and if the owl was ignoring them, then.
He got the cheese out of his bag and broke off a small portion, tossing a pinch their way. They were pretty cute, as far as mice went. Not that he'd seen all that many mice.
He tossed a few more bits of cheese on the floor, wondering if he could coax them to come even closer. Breaking off two larger chunks he set them at arm's reach, then sat back to watch. They sniffed at the pieces of cheese, nibbling at them as they edged forward, the black one giving him a warning look as they got closer to the two larger pieces. He thought for a moment that they would run away with them, but instead, they sat and ate, brown eyes regarding him carefully.
He doubted the witch would appreciate him feeding the local wildlife.
It made him smile. They jumped at his movement and scurried away, cheese caught in their mouths. Kenma sighed and watched them go, feeling lonely.
He was probably in a pretty bad state if he was relying on mice for company.
Yawning again, he let his head rest against his arms.
The witch would probably be back soon. He'd hear the door open. He'd always been a light sleeper anyway.
He was just so tired.
8~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There had never been any mice in the cottage. No other pests or insects trying to sneak in either. Kenma wasn't sure why - it wasn't like he knew a spell to be able to keep a house vermin-free. If he had, he was pretty sure it would've been a bestseller.
Animals just seemed to avoid their place. All but the crows.
"Why do you encourage them?" Oikawa had asked one time, frowning as Kenma tossed his scraps out into the yard behind their house. He'd been over for tea and was still eating one of the leftover sandwiches.
Kenma had shrugged. "It's not like I have any other use for the garbage, and they like it well enough."
"Hmph," Oikawa had said, tossing the crust of his sandwich at one crow in particular. It had jumped out of the way and cawed at him, then started a fight with another crow that came over to pick up the crust of bread. "I always heard crows are bad luck."
"Ah, I don't think so," Kenma said. He didn't know, of course. It could be that people said that. But it wasn't in any of the books he'd read, and Oikawa sometimes had some strange ideas.
"They are," Oikawa had said, giving him the strangest look. Kenma hated when Oikawa got serious. It reminded him how much he didn't know about the man, and about the village in general.
Fortunately, Oikawa's serious moods never lasted for long.
Snapping out of it, he had jumped off away from the wall and given Kenma a brilliant smile. "Thanks again for the tea, Ken-chan," he'd said. "You always do know how to make the best blends. I really should take some home for Iwa-chan, he doesn't know what he's missing."
"He likes the red tea," Kenma had replied, watching as the crows started to fly off.
"What? Iwa-chan has been here for your tea and didn't tell me?"
"No, I -" Kenma had said, turning and looking at Oikawa for a long moment before furrowing his brow. "Um. I guess it just seems like something he'd like, is all."
Oikawa had stared at him again, and Kenma hadn't wanted to read what was in his gaze as the look in his eyes turned gentle. It was too close to pity, and there was no reason for Oikawa to pity him. "You're right," Oikawa had finally said, voice bright. "Wow, you really are good at reading people, aren't you Ken-chan? No wonder you have so many loyal customers!"
Kenma had shrugged and nodded, gathering up enough courage to pack up Oikawa's purchases and send him on his way. He'd barely even met Iwaizumi. The man was Oikawa's friend and Kenma had certainly never sold him tea. It bothered him, but then again, there were many things that bothered him.
But worrying about things never put food on the table, so he got to work instead.
9~~~~~~~~~
"Who are you?"
For a moment, just before Kenma woke, he thought it was just the owl again. The voice was rough and scratchy. Angry too, Kenma noted before opening his eyes and looking at the most beautiful person he'd ever seen.
They - no he, it was a man - he was tall, towering over Kenma. His hair was a mass of black curls, and he had delicate features as sharp as a knife's edge. He was wearing clothing that had once probably been expensive but was now worn and tattered, and he was leaning on a carved wooden cane.
His eyes - his eyes, oh -
"Who are you?" the man asked again, impatience showing on his face.
Kenma opened his mouth to speak and stopped, remembering just in time.
/Whatever you do, don't speak./
He reached up and clutched the locket around his neck, worry curling around in his heart. It wasn't supposed to go like this.
Then again, nothing was going like it was supposed to.
"Bah," the man said, raising his cane. For a moment Kenma thought he'd hit him, but he didn't, He did, however, reach down and grab at Kenma's robes, hand clutching the front in a way that made Kenma want to hit him. This wasn't fair at all. The man hoisted him up and pulled him closer, shaking him. "Answer me! Are you a thief? I bet you're a thief. Sneaking into someone's house in the middle of the night."
Kenma shook his head, hands clutching at the man's arm. He'd already made him mad, he didn't want to upset him further.
The man scowled, pulling him closer and sniffing. "You smell like those people," he said, eyes narrowing in anger. "I bet you are one of them, just some stupid villager come thinking you can take whatever you want. You made your choice!"
Kenma started, scrambling as the man carried him to the entrance and threw him outside.
"Go away!" the man shouted. "You've taken enough from me already!"
Then the door was slammed in Kenma's face.
He blinked, laying back in the dirt. His backside felt bruised, his body was aching from the uncomfortable position he'd slept in, his hands were all scraped up from trying to catch himself on the ground, but most of all -
He gasped and reached for the front of his robe, checking to make sure the chain of the locket was still intact.
It was. It was fine.
Trembling, Kenma opened it up and looked at the picture inside, swallowing as he saw that one of the petals painted around the edge of the portrait was almost completely black.
This was going to be impossible.
This was going to be impossible, but it was his only hope.
Their only hope.