Chapter Text
“Damn rain.” Kuroo mutters to himself as he trudges through the downpour searching for his missing best friend. Kenma has many exasperating quirks, but Kuroo finds the one where he frequently got lost to be by far the most frustrating. They're in a completely new town, being tourists, and Kenma just has gone and gotten himself lost. Again.
He bypasses an alleyway, and hears a quiet yelp of pain. Frowning, Kuroo turns to look and focuses on the source of the noise just as a large, beefy man backhands Kenma across the face and sends him sprawling against a box of crates.
Kuroo sees red. The group of men surrounding Kenma have a clear advantage to the boy, not just in numbers but also in size. Kenma’s small frame is like a twig in comparison to theirs.
"Hey!” Kuroo shouts angrily. Shoving his way through them, Kuroo grabs the shoulder of the man who’d punched Kenma. The man turns, and Kuroo slams him against the wall, throwing a hard punch to his face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Kuroo looks like a fighter, and despite his pacifist nature, he can throw a punch when he wants to. The second punch leaves the guy on his knees, reeling from the blow. Before the other three can react, Kuroo grabs Kenma by the hand and runs.
They make it as far as the next street before someone delivers a hard blow to the back of Kuroo’s head. The captain goes down, angling his body so that he breaks the fall and Kenma lands on top of him. His vision blurs, and he feels Kenma’s small hands shaking his shoulders.
“Kuroo.” Kenma pleads. “Get up.”
“Run.” Kuroo says, pushing Kenma away from him. “Go, Kenma. Run.”
The boy glances behind him, and Kuroo forces himself to sit up. “I’m fine, Kenma. Go!”
He wills himself to his feet, and shoves Kenma the other direction. Two of the men from the alleyway are standing in front of him, one being the guy he’d punched. The guy who’d hit Kenma. Kuroo’s lips narrow into a snarl, and he attacks.
Kuroo hopes that the patter of running footsteps he hears are Kenma’s.
-
Kuroo’s going to kill him, Kenma thinks as he sprints through the deserted streets, the men still following close behind. Kenma gets away slacking on many things, but he still has the stamina of an athlete, and he can hear the men cursing as they continue to pursue him in the rain. A quick glance back earlier had shown all four men to be still in pursuit, which in a way was a relief, because it meant none of them had stayed back to deal with Kuroo.
Why do you even want me? Kenma wonders. Surely I’m not worth the effort.
He catches sight of a black cat streaking past his path and despite not being superstitious, he can’t help but watch it go. That is his downfall. Eyes off the road, if only for two seconds.
He doesn’t see the low hanging metal sign. Kenma barely notices hanging things, because he’s short and he knows it and he’s never had to worry about hitting his head on one of them before. But of all times, this has to be the one time that he does hit one, and he’s sure he hears the loud ‘clang’ it makes as his head collides with the metal.
The force knocks him to the ground, and Kenma’s world is spinning. There’s a blurry shape, and Kenma makes it out as the outline of a fuzzy orange cat. It stalks the fence it is on and watches Kenma. Kenma watches it back, until there is a shout of triumph.
The men, Kenma thinks with alarm. But he can’t see properly, much less get up and run, and his eyes are stinging from the pain and it’s cold and it hurts and the men are on him, hands on his jacket, hands searching. He slams his elbow into the gravel of the road as he fights them, and his whole arm goes numb.
In the end, he gives up fighting and just lies there in the rain. The cat moves closer, predatory, and Kenma blinks at it. He’s still watching the orange cat when it pounces.
The last thing he hears is shouting. He tries to focus on the shapes in front of him, until someone kicks him in the head and everything goes blank.
-
Dratted weather, Tsukishima thinks, trudging through the rain, his umbrella doing little to shield him from the bad weather. Tsukishima half-wishes he’d just hung around in the library or somewhere to wait it out.
It’s a horrible day, Tsukishima admits to himself. At least though, it’s Friday, and opting out of volleyball practice means that he has the whole weekend to himself to brood. He clenches his jaw as he thinks about the look on Hinata’s face when he’d walked right past them on his way back, not even bothering to acknowledge the shorter player. Tsukishima can’t deny that he’s downright unpleasant when he’s thinking deeply about something—more often than not volleyball—but he can’t help it.
His shoes squelch uncomfortably beneath his feet, and he suppresses the urge to sigh. As he makes his way past a corner, there’s a mewling noise, and a soaking wet cat taking shelter under a leaf growls at him.
What? Tsukishima’s so surprised that he actually stops mid-step to stare at the cat. There are plenty of better places for a cat to hide from the rain. The leaf might as well be nonexistent, for all the good it is doing.
His eyes trail around the area, and suddenly he spots an abandoned red jacket, draped across a road divider. Tsukishima wants to ignore it and go home, but it looks oddly familiar and despite his brain whining at him to get home already, he takes a few steps forward.
Before he can reach the jacket, he sees a figure, an actual person, lying on the ground. He’s curled up to one side with his back turned, but Tsukishima’s brain connects the dots. A red jacket. A boy with blonde hair and black roots. His eyes glance back at the cat, and it all clicks.
A brief moment of panic overwhelms Tsukishima. It’s that setter from Nekoma, the one with the genius observation skills. What is he doing here? Why is he in Miyagi, and why is he out here, alone?
Tsukishima’s legs move on his own, and the umbrella falls to the side as he realizes that this was no mindless stroll the boy had taken and fallen asleep in. There are bruises up and down the setter’s skin, and his T-shirt is torn at the collar. His thin T-shirt, far too thin for the weather, provides no protection against the pounding of the rain.
Shit. Tsukishima drops into a crouch, turning the boy onto his back. His body gives no resistance, and Tsukishima leans closer just as the cat from under the leaf flies at him, claws outstretched. Tsukishima throws up his hands to protect himself just in time, and gets a bunch of long scratches down his arms for his effort.
“What the—” Tsukishima nearly flattens Kenma as he tries to escape the sharp claws of the cat, but forces his body the other way at the last moment, leaving the setter clear of any further injury. The cat stops coming after him, but circles the body on the road, almost possessively.
Tsukishima’s eyes go from the cat to the boy and back again, and his eyes widen as he understands what is happening. The cat is protecting Kenma. Unbelievable, Tsukishima thinks. But the boy needs help, more than a protective cat can provide right now.
“Um.” Tsukishima takes a few steps back towards them, and the cat growls at him. Yamaguchi is going to laugh if he hears about this. Tsukishima, standing in the pouring rain trying to reason with a cat. Holding his hands out, he stops right in front of the cat and crouches down. “Listen. I’m not going to hurt him. He needs help, I’m going to help him.”
The cat remains largely unimpressed, but they are both distracted by a soft moan as Kenma stirs. He tries to sit up and winces, catching his weight on his palms before he can fall back over. The small noise of pain he emits sits badly with Tsukishima.
“Kenma.” The cat-eyes widen as the boy recognizes Tsukishima. His eyes are unfocused, but at least he’s awake and lucid.
“I’d go over to help you, but your cat is…” Tsukishima gestures to the cat, who seems calmer now that Kenma is awake. Tsukishima’s still not taking any chances though.
Kenma gazes steadily at the cat, his expression still unreadable. “That’s not my cat.” Kenma says, but beckons to the animal lightly with two fingers. The cat slips under his hand, letting Kenma pat its wet fur.
Tsukishima closes the gap and kneels down beside the boy. Tsukishima studies the him, and Kenma’s eyes meet his for a moment before they flutter shut, and he’s on the brink of passing out again.
Reaching for his umbrella, Tsukishima closes it. They’re both soaking wet already. There’s no point having to worry about the umbrella too. Stuffing it into his bag, he asks, “I’m assuming you’re here with your team? Where are you guys staying?”
There is no reply. Kenma has curled back up on the street and slipped into unconsciousness.
“Hey.” Tsukishima shakes the boy lightly, but he doesn’t stir. It’s then Tsukishima sees the small wound on the side of Kenma’s head. It’s not serious, and should heal on its own in a couple of days, but with everything combined, Tsukishima is worried. The blond hair is tinged red.
With a sigh, Tsukishima eyes Kenma. He’s small, small enough to be carried. If he had to be. Tsukishima scoops the setter up in his arms, and slowly stands. His head nearly knocks into a low hanging sign, and he glares at it.
The cat mewls, and Tsukishima turns to see the red jacket still draped over the fence. Kenma would probably want it later.
Tsukishima eyes the cat. “I don’t suppose you’ll help me get that?” he asks.
A minute later, Tsukishima is walking down the street, carrying a limp body in his arms. Beside him trots an orange cat with a red jacket hanging across its body. Most of the jacket is dragging on the ground, but Tsukishima supposes it’ll have to do.
Yamaguchi is going to laugh, indeed.
-
It’s late.
It’s been four hours since they’ve lost Kenma, and Kuroo is standing at the edge of town, clenching and unclenching his fist. They’ve combed the whole downtown and some of the surrounding area numerous times, but they’ve yet to find Kenma and the boy hasn’t contacted them either.
“Kuroo.” Someone touches his arm, and he looks down at Yaku’s concerned face. “It’s dark. We should get some rest. We’ve searched everywhere.”
Kuroo lets out a long breath and runs his hand across his face. “Yaku,” he says, in a low, desperate voice, “I need to find him.”
“You will. We will. Kuroo, we’ll find him.”
Kuroo nods, fear settling in his stomach. He replays the last time he saw Kenma, over and over again in his head. He cannot bring himself to imagine what might have happened to the boy.
There is a soft pressure on the back of Kuroo’s arm, gently steering him back to where they came. “Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”
It feels like betraying Kenma when Kuroo stops looking, but he forces himself to anyway. He’s looked everywhere he could think of, and talked to half the population of the town, but no one has seen the boy. Kuroo doesn’t know what else he can do.
Inuoka and Yamamoto quietly pick a restaurant, a simple cafe where they can get a quick bite before going back to their rooms. The team is unusually silent, and he doesn’t think Yamamoto utters a single word.
Truth be told, if anyone did speak, Kuroo, too lost in his own thoughts, doesn’t hear them.
Kenma. Kuroo thinks, staring out into the pouring rain. Where are you?
-
Tsukishima paces back and forth in his bedroom. He hasn’t let anyone else up here in ages, and it’s strange, having a boy he barely knows fast asleep in his bed.
His parents are away for the week, and Tsukishima thinks he’s mostly grateful for that. No one had been around to see him come home, soaking from head to toe with a wet bundle of a boy in his arms.
The setter is small, but even so, Tsukishima has a field day trying to work out what to do with him. Tsukishima finally decides on leaving the smaller boy sitting under the hot shower, fully clothed, while he rummages around his bedroom for something Kenma can wear.
At long last, they’re both in dry clothes again, although Kenma’s hair is dripping water all over the t-shirt Tsukishima has put him in. Tsukishima pats his hair down awkwardly with a towel, mindfully avoiding the wound, and then lays Kenma down in his bed, tucking the blankets over him. The boy’s skin is still cold to touch, and Tsukishima rests his warm skin against the boy’s cool one much longer than he ever would if Kenma was awake.
“What happened to you?” Tsukishima muses quietly. “Where is your team?”
Tsukishima had found the boy’s cellphone in his back pocket, soaked through and not turning on. He put it by the windowsill, above the heater, hoping it would dry in time. In the meantime, he had to find another way to contact Nekoma’s team.
Against his will and after ten minutes of refusal to, Tsukishima calls Daichi.
Daichi is surprised, but he doesn't voice it. Instead, he asks, “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you have the phone number of the captain of Nekoma.” Tsukishima says.
Daichi is quiet for so long that Tsukishima thinks he must have surprised his captain into a faint. “Kuroo Tetsurou?” Daichi asks. “That Nekoma captain?”
There’s something in Daichi’s tone that tells Tsukishima his captain is thinking about the practices he’s had with Kuroo, and wondering if this has anything to do with that. Daichi doesn’t ask, and Tsukishima doesn’t offer.
“I’m sorry, I don’t. Perhaps you should call Hinata. He has Kenma, the setter’s, number. I’m sure Kenma can give you Kuroo’s.”
“Okay. Thank you.” Tsukishima doesn’t bother to tell him that he’s been no help at all.
Daichi senses it though, and offers another suggestion. “You could try Tanaka? He’s friends with the ace, isn’t he? He might have Yamamoto’s number. And then you could get to Kuroo.”
That’s too many if’s and phone calls with people he’d rather not talk to even on a normal day. Tsukishima figures he’ll just wait for Kenma to wake up.
“Tsukishima, I hope you’re coming back soon.” Daichi says.
Tsukishima doesn’t have anything to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. He hangs up.
Rain is still pouring outside, raindrops pattering against the glass. Inside the room, it is dark.
Tsukishima slumps to the floor and buries his face in his hands.
-
It is nine p.m. and there’s a boy passed out in his bed and Tsukishima is making them both dinner.
The boy doesn’t wake.
Tsukishima eats alone, perched at his desk, watching the boy sleep. The rain stops, gradually. The room is warm, so is Kenma.
Tsukishima falls asleep at his desk, waiting.
-
The lamp on the bedside table reads ten-fifty. Kenma has no idea where he is and why everything is so fuzzy. There is the sound of someone moving around, far, far away. Footsteps.
Kenma closes his eyes again. His head hurts. He’s very dizzy.
The room is warm, so is Kenma.
He falls back asleep within seconds, but the confusion never fades.
-
Kuroo wakes up in complete darkness to his phone ringing. He reaches for it quickly, before it wakes anyone else up, and then he looks at the adjacent bed and remembers that he’s alone in the room tonight.
"Kuroo?” the voice asks, hesitantly.
“Speaking.” Kuroo says. He massages his temple, trying to squint at the time on the bedside clock. The pain from the blow he’d received earlier that evening had faded, but the throbbing was still insistent. “Who is this?”
“Tsukishima Kei.” The voice says. It’s more familiar now, as is the name, but between exhaustion and sleep he still takes awhile to place it.
“Tsukishima… as in Karasuno?” he finally asks in disbelief. As far as he knew, Tsukishima wasn’t the type to call anyone at any time, much less the captain of his opponent’s team at … five in the morning.
Before he can leap to any far-fetched conclusions, Tsukishima says in a quiet voice, “I have Kenma with me.”
Kuroo’s first reaction is complete bewilderment. “What do you want with him?”
“What?”
A beat passes and Kuroo immediately feels ridiculous. There was no way Karasuno has kidnapped Kenma. There’s a more logical reasoning to this. “Where is Kenma?” Kuroo asks.
“At my place. I found him at the side of the road on my way back from school. Did you…lose him?”
Kuroo stiffens. Tsukishima says the word ‘lose’ as though it is a synonym for something less pleasant, more forceful, more malicious. He says the word ‘lose’ with the entire weight of losing an official match, or losing a loved one.
Kuroo’s blood runs cold. “Is he okay?”
“He’s running a high fever. He’s been conscious for only minutes at a time, so I haven’t managed to talk to him about what’s happened, but he was up long enough to give me your number awhile ago.”
Kuroo loses all strength in his legs and sinks back onto his bed. “What did they do to him?” he asks.
“…don’t worry about it.” Tsukishima says. “He’s fine. I’m watching over the fever, and I’ll bring him over tomor- later. I just wanted to let you know he’s with me.
Kuroo pictures Kenma in an unfamiliar room, with someone he barely knows. Kenma’s lousy at being sick, he’s miserable and clingy and even quieter than usual.
“Can I come over?” Kuroo asks.
There is a slight hesitation on the other end. “It’s five in the morning.” Tsukishima says. “He’s asleep.”
“Please.” Kuroo says. “I just need to see him.”
The silence stretches on, woven into the own silence of Kuroo’s hotel room. Kuroo presses his face into the bedframe, closing his eyes.
“Okay.” Tsukishima says.
-
It is five in the morning and Kuroo’s lost Kenma but the coldest member of the Karasuno team has found him.
He sends a message to the team’s group chat before heading out.
Found Kenma. Heading over to see him now. Will call with more info later.
The trains have yet to start running, and so Kuroo walks. He alternates between walking, jogging and sprinting. In the chilly, damp morning air, the roads are all empty, and Kuroo has never felt more alone.