Work Text:
Kuro woke up to the ringing of his phone on the floor next to his bed. He must’ve slept with it in his hand again. Groaning, he leant down from the edge, reaching out as his eyes peeled open amidst the bright sunlight. As he finally grabbed it, he took notice of his empty dorm. Itsuki and Sena were in Europe, as always, but it was strange not to see Isara. A quick glance at his phone screen answered his conundrum, however, as the bright ‘13:02 PM’ told him all he needed to know. He immediately jolted up into a sitting position, pushing the covers off his body. He looked at the contact calling him, and it all made sense. Keito was calling him because he’d overslept and he and Souma were probably waiting for him at practice. Damn it. He stood up as he answered the call, “Danna? Sorry, I just woke up. I’ll be there in a sec—”
“Kiryu? Kiryu, are you there?”
“Yes, yes, I’m just late, I’m real’ sorry. I’m gonna get changed right now.”
“Kiryu, are you standing right now?”
What kind of question was that? Well, Keito was smarter than he was, so something was probably amiss in Kuro's thinking. “Yeah? I gotta get ready.”
On the other side of the line, Keito took a deep breath, and then spoke firmly, “Kiryu, you have to sit down before I tell you this.”
Okay, kind of concerning, but if there was something Kuro was good at, it was taking orders from his unit leader. He promptly sat back down on his bed. “Okay? Did something happen?”
Keito hesitated. He stammered a bit as he searched for his words before finally deciding on what to say, “it’s… Kanzaki, he—he’s just passed away. I’ve been told it was sudden cardiac arrest.”
“Sorry?” His heart dropped.
Keito audibly swallowed before continuing, “you know Kanzaki, he takes pride in waking up in the early, early hours of morning, so… by the time his roommates found him unconscious in the bathroom, he was already—it was already too late.”
Kuro couldn’t believe it. His hand shook around his phone, while his other quickly rose to aid in carrying its weight. His blood ran cold as he gripped the cold metal tighter. “Did they get him to a hospital at least? Is he really…” he couldn’t say the word, couldn’t bring it to life.
“They did. The ambulance is what woke me.” Keito paused, voice shaky, “but hours had passed, Kiryu. He was long… dead.” he said it—the word.
Dead.
What does it mean to be dead? What does it mean to die? Did a wave of tranquillity wash over Souma as his heart stopped? Did he feel the final rush of blood to his brain and panic? Was it painful? What hurt him first—the heart or the fall?
A sharp intake of breath on the other line snapped him out of his thoughts, and he urgently stood up again, “Danna—Hasumi? Are you alright? Where are you?”
“The—my office.”
“Sit tight, okay? I’ll be right there.” Kuro hesitated for a moment before hanging up, shoving the phone into his sweatpants pocket as he approached his closet. Tears pricked at his eyes upon seeing the AKATSUKI training outfit, so he quickly pushed it aside in favour of picking a random black shirt. After a quick wash of his face, he didn’t bother fixing his hair before running out of his room, ignoring the stares of fellow idol passersby as he ran out of the dorms and to the Rhythm Link building.
Once at the right floor, he threw open the door to his unit leader’s office, “Hasumi!” he called, shoulders dropping when he took in the sad sight of Keito crumpled on the floor, papers and pens surrounding him, and phone gripped tight in his hand. “Hasumi…” Kuro repeated softly and sat on his haunches beside him, hand rubbing his back.
“Kiryu,” his voice cracked, and he removed his glasses with his free hand to wipe at his eyes, “I’m sorry you have to see… such a pathetic side of me.” sitting this close together, Kuro could see his phone screen and realised he had been looking over old text conversations with Souma. Or maybe not so old. The most recent seemed to be from this morning, presumably a text Souma sent when he’d awoken before anybody. Before his untimely death.
His death. It still didn’t seem real.
“Don’t apologise, Hasumi.” Kuro paused, standing still for a moment before cautiously wrapping his arms around his friend, “it’s alright.” Now that Keito was hidden from the cruel world around them, he began to shake and sob, burying his face into his chest. Kuro was beginning to find it difficult to remain calm himself, but seeing the state Keito was in, he knew he would have to be strong. For them both. He held on tighter.
“I… I should’ve known,” Keito cried, “I should’ve made us do routine doctor appointments…! I… I…”
Kuro’s eyes fell shut when they started to sting. “Don’t blame yourself, Hasumi. There’s no way we could’ve known.” Close your eyes and try not to think of the possibility that he could’ve been hurting this whole time. Close your eyes and try not to think of the ways this could’ve been prevented.
He tried to remember. Just yesterday, he and Souma had laughed so heartily together they’d leant against one another. He recalled the brief warmth of life he’d exuded. The touch of their shoulders. The pat on the back he’d given Souma as they’d parted ways, not knowing it would be the last time they would ever see each other again. The last time Kuro would have seen him smile.
He tried not to think anymore. When Keito’s trembling ceased, he asked, “What were you doing in the office anyway? I’m sure even a workaholic like you would have trouble working on a day like this…”
Keito’s grip on Kuro’s black shirt tensed, and before Kuro could take back his question in panic, he replied, “there’s… a lot. I mean, I have to deal with the aftermath. Of… a member of AKATSUKI dying. Paperwork and… all that.”
A rage simmered within Kuro, but he managed to keep his voice even for both their sakes, “those damned higher-ups… do they have no heart?”
“It’s fine. It’s a fine distraction.”
“And so, you’ve been working all morning since you found out the… news?”
Keito nodded, slowly pulling apart from Kuro, “yes, but a few hours in I realised that I forgot to check in on you. Your… silence unnerved me, I—I assumed the worst.”
Of course. Keito had just lost Souma, and Kuro had been nowhere to be seen. He must’ve felt completely and utterly alone. Kuro’s heart ached at the thought.
“I’m… beyond relieved to see you’re okay.” he looked up, into Kuro’s eyes. He gave a small smile but didn’t seem capable of holding it for too long, as it quickly deteriorated into a flickering frown, and the tears in his eyes began to glisten once more. Kuro wiped at them with heavy hands, and a much heavier heart.
“Come on, Danna, let me help you. We’ll work through this stuff together.” the grief and papers both.
Keito choked on a sob but nodded. He blindly searched the floor for his glasses, and Kuro handed them to him. He put them back on with a shaky exhale. “Okay. Alright. Thank you, Kiryu.” my good friend Kiryu.
And so, Keito settled into his familiar chair at his desk, papers in hand, while Kuro crashed onto the couch in front of the coffee table and worked on his own pile.
Being unfamiliar with this sort of work, however, it wasn’t long before Kuro’s eyes began to feel heavy. It was strange, seeing as he’d woken up so late. Regardless, he worked hard, fighting back the fatigue to the best of his ability. He knew that if he fell asleep, Keito would take on his portion and end up working himself to the bone. He had to be reliable. He had to be strong for the two of them. For Souma.
.
.
.
Kuro woke up to the ringing of his phone, on the couch, beside his head. He must’ve slept with it in his hand instead of his pocket. Groaning, he groggily sat up, wiping at the drool in the corner of his mouth with his otherwise clean white shirt. His eyes quickly turned serious the second he took note of the name calling him, however. He cleared his throat, reorganised the mess of papers in front of him, and promptly answered the call, “hello? Hasumi?” His voice was rough with misery, but he willed it away with yet another clearing of his throat.
“Kiryu, I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Indeed.
“Nope, you’re good. shouldn’t have been sleepin’ in the middle of work anyway.”
“Well, it’s fine, I understand you’ve gotten out of the habit since we graduated. But anyway, I figured we could take a short break and thought to get us some drinks, but now that I’m here I realise I don’t exactly know your preference in, um, milkshakes.”
Kuro couldn’t help the small smile that formed upon his face. It appeared that a walk was still enough to rejuvenate a dispirited Keito. “Milkshakes? Awfully specific. Did you happen to crave some?”
Keito fell quiet for a moment. Eventually, he sputtered, “sh—shut up! Hurry and tell me what flavour you want or I’m getting you the unhealthiest, sweetest thing on the menu.” Kuro could practically see him fume, face turning red…
“Alright, alright; I’ll have strawberry, then.”
“Got it. See you soon.”
“Gotcha.” and Keito hung up first. Kuro looked down at his phone as the screen turned dark. Keito is strong, so he will surely be okay soon. Yes, soon, he will be okay, and only then will Kuro be able to focus on processing his own sorrow. But for now, Keito needed him as a strong pillar to hold himself together. The ankle to his David.
His phone suddenly lit up with the arrival of a message, showcasing the bright wallpaper behind—a picture of himself flanked by Souma and Keito. All three of them were sweaty with the aftermath of a performance yet smiled at the camera like idiots. Souma’s hand was raised in a crooked peace sign; Kuro’s fist was raised awkwardly, perhaps a little too high; and Keito intelligently kept his hands folded behind his back.
Kuro’s vision began to blur. His nose began to sting. A lump began to form in his throat. He coughed into his fist and blinked the woes away. He would have to change his lock screen soon, lest he so swiftly break his oath of being Keito’s strength.
Right. He had work to do.
He turned his attention back to the papers on his desk and began writing. Strangely enough, none of it seemed related to Souma, but was rather on AKATSUKI’s financial plans, more specifically Kuro’s role in the group, alongside his personal requests regarding their budget and salary. He frowned. Of course Keito had taken the brunt of the work again. Did he take on both his own and Souma’s parts? A flash of those light purple eyes appeared in Kuro’s mind’s eye, and he sighed them away.
Do your work for Kanzaki’s sake.
He continued to write and write before the tears could return.
And he did, for a time that could not be much longer than thirty minutes, as Keito soon returned with two milkshakes in hand.
“Ah?” Keito stilled as he watched the way Kuro leant over his paper, mostly focused apart from a quick glance towards him. “I didn’t expect to see you work this hard. I’m impressed, Kiryu.” he sat beside him on the couch, setting down the strawberry milkshake on the coffee table, careful that it is away from all scattered paper.
Kuro finally set down his pen and straightened before observing Keito’s face. Miraculously, all traces of tears and snot had been completely eradicated by the fresh autumn winds. Kuro smiled kindly and placed a heavy hand on Keito’s shoulder, squeezing lightly, “you look great, Danna. A walk was just what you needed.”
Keito averted his eyes immediately, “enough of that. Try your drink; tell me how it is.” and he picked up his own drink, which Kuro guessed to be matcha flavoured based on the earthly green colour. It matched his hair, he noted with amusement.
Obediently, he picked up his own pale pink drink and sipped. Definitely too sweet for him, but it wasn’t bad. “It’s real’ good, thanks.” He put it back down in favour of picking up his pen again, but Keito’s urgent hand unexpectedly took the pen before he could reach it. He gave him a quizzical look.
“Kiryu, I just remembered—on my way here, I ran into Morisawa; he said you were supposed to be at a meetup with him and the other members of SHIN today.” he raised one eyebrow, “apparently he texted you, but you didn’t reply.”
Kuro’s eyes widened. That’s right—he did receive a message earlier, but seeing his lock screen photo had completely distracted him. He swiftly unlocked his phone and checked his messages. Chiaki had in fact texted him asking for his whereabouts. He typed in a quick answer and groaned, holding his head in his hands. “Sorry about that, Danna, I just let him know I’ll be missing it.”
For whatever reason, Keito flinched, eyes widening, “what? Why?”
Lifting his head out of confusion, Kuro answered, “‘cause I already decided I’m gonna stay here and help you?” For whatever reason, his voice wavered and changed his tone into one of inquiry at the end.
But instead of calming down and breaking into a relaxed smile, Keito looked to be even more riled up as he shouted, “don’t be foolish! Go on and meet with your circle members now!”
This time it was Kuro’s turn to flinch, and he cowered slightly at the sudden tone shift. It was very unlike him, and Keito surely noticed, because he quickly turned around, clearing his throat, before looking at him with an unsure look in his eyes.
“I mean… go on. I’ll handle the rest of your portion from here.”
“Hasumi…?” What about your good friend Kiryu?
Keito huffed, shaking his head, “I’ll put your drink in the fridge of your floor kitchen, don’t worry, so go pick it up when you’re back home.”
How sad. How terrible. Keito was kind, so he must be using this as a chance to force Kuro to occupy himself with things other than mourning. A distraction, as his own walk had been.
But if Kuro left, that would mean leaving Keito alone.
He had to put his foot down. Keito has always been stubborn to a fault, after all, so this wouldn’t be Kuro’s first time dealing with him in this way. Rely on me a little more.
He stood up and braced himself, ready to argue back—
—and the office door suddenly slammed open, followed by a lilting voice, “Kuro-san~! I’ve come to fetch you~! Ah? Did I interrupt something?” Mikejima.
The pair stared at him in silence for some time, until Keito stood up in a flash, pushing Kuro towards the door with a tight smile, “not at all! Impeccable timing, actually. Do take Kiryu with you now.”
Madara blinked, a little dumbfounded as he pulled a hardly resisting Kuro out, “oh? Okay?” They both jumped a little as the door slammed shut, followed by a click.
Immediately, Kuro broke out of his grasp and tried the handle, knocking his forehead on the door with a sigh when it didn’t budge.
“How odd,” Madara commented from behind with a hum, “he’s usually not too fond of letting me steal you away from him.”
But even more oddly, Kuro remained silent. Madara’s eyebrows furrowed with slight concern. Perhaps he would soon find out why Keito had been so set on kicking him out just now.
“Kuro-san? Chiaki-san and the children are waiting~ Tetora-san in particular was very worried about you.”
He had to be strong, Kuro realised, not just for Keito, but for all the people who looked up to him as well. He quickly turned, speed-walking past Madara before the man could see the redness that he felt lingered around his eyes.
“Ah—please wait for me!”
He would also have to be strong for his friends—for those who considered him equal to themselves.
.
.
.
He was a mess. After doing nothing but paperwork all afternoon, he realised that his body wasn’t quite ready for strenuous activity. He realised that this grief truly had been weighing down on him all day, that he had only been delaying the inevitable by focusing on small letters on pieces of paper.
He felt it in the punch Hiiro had managed to land on him while wanting to confirm his technique. He hadn’t even expected to hit Kuro—that’s how much faith these kids had in his abilities, and he was failing them. It was like a part of him had died along with Souma; he hadn’t felt this sort of anguish since his mother’s passing.
Hiiro backed away with eyes wide in alarm, but his voice remained steady, “Kiryu-senpai! Are you alright?”
Needless to say, that caught everyone’s attention. Chiaki in particular commented, “you don’t look too good, Kiryu. I think you should sit out for a bit.”
“I think he should sit out the rest of the hour,” Hiiro stated matter-of-factly, wiping at his own sweaty nose with his shoulder, “I think Kiryu-senpai is ill.”
“Really?!” Great. Way to make Tetora freak out. “Taishou! Are you feeling sick? Should I get some medicine? I knew you weren’t feeling well, there’s no way you would miss practice just like that—”
“Tetsu, calm down.” Kuro hadn’t meant the gruff in his voice, but figured that the next best thing he could manage was a voice wet with sobs, cracking at every vowel… So yeah, this was preferable. “I’m gonna get a drink.” and with that, he went out to change, slipping his white shirt back on without trouble as he had barely exerted enough energy to sweat anyway. He reached into nothingness and realised that he’d forgotten to bring water. Whatever. He took his gym bag and went outside, breathing in the frigid air with a shudder. Felt the oxygen enter his lungs. The blood pump through his veins.
He was alive. A luxury few can afford.
What does it mean to be alive? What does it mean to be dead? A deceased person’s presence fades over time, until there is no trace of them left in the world. If Kuro were to visit Souma’s dorm now, it would be filled with evidence that a third man is living there. There would stand his shelf, his mini collection of trinkets, his bed, and his pet turtle—forever anticipating his return. At their desk, his share of textbooks lay among his roommates’. A group of high schoolers that study together, all in one room.
Oh, he was so young. The kind wind carried away Kuro’s tears. He was so young.
If being dead means disappearing from the world entirely, then Kanzaki Souma was still alive. Then so long as Kuro lived, Kanzaki Souma would live, too. The thought of it was bittersweet. It brought no comfort to Kuro.
What does it mean to be truly dead? Is a person truly dead once you attend their funeral? Once you have finished shedding your final tear in her memory? Once you have started wearing your mother’s ring as a necklace, as close to your heart as possible? Once you have started to forget what her scolding voice sounded like, only to remember how it sounded in her frailest moments, when she held onto your hand with a grip so weak it could never possibly hold a needle again? When you say mom, I accidentally ripped my sleeve again, she will smile and say come here, nothing is beyond saving. And she will hold you close, because despite how close she may be to death, no pain will ever keep her away from holding her son, until she can’t anymore. What was death again? Death means no longer being able to feel her arms around you.
“Kuro-san?”
Kuro’s eyes snapped wide open, and he turned to look to his right, Where Madara stood just beside him. He watched his eyes flick down to the tears on his cheeks, before they rose up to meet his own once more, this time a deep worry etched in their shine.
“As expected, Hiiro-san was right. You’re not feeling too great, are you?”
Kuro shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he leant against the stiff wall behind him. Seems like Keito still had yet to announce what had happened. There was no point in telling anyone now, they would understand soon enough. He let out a soft exhale, effectively halting the continuous stream of tears that fell from his eyes. He then inaudibly gasped. Had Souma’s family been made aware? No, no, surely, they had. If not Keito himself, then Rhythm Link has surely contacted them by now. Or perhaps the hospital.
“Wanna talk about it?” He almost forgot Madara was there.
“No,” he grunted, “sorry, but can you tell the others I’m not feeling well? ‘Think I’m just gonna spend the rest of the day in my room.”
Madara hesitated, but eventually relented with an energetic nod, “you can count on me! Get well soon, Kuro-san~! And if you won’t talk to me, at least try opening up to Keito-san or Souma-san!” He gave him a pat on the back before leaving. It said be strong.
“Thanks,” he might or might not have uttered. It didn’t matter. Kuro sensed a migraine approaching.
On his way back to the dorms, his headache had fully settled into his skull, and he caught a glimpse of a dark purple ponytail rushing past him. He began to sweat, despite the cold air. This grief was actually making him ill: he was slowly starting to be presented with hallucinations. He needed to sleep as soon as possible. Needed to escape fast.
He entered the building of the Starmony dorms and ran to the open elevator, where Adonis stood alone, patiently holding the door open for him. “Thanks,” he wheezed out when he caught up, soon entering beside him.
He glanced over at Adonis’ neutral expression, which stared at the number up top shift from 1 to 2. First floor to the second floor. First life to the next. Adonis was Souma’s best friend, yet he is unaware of the tragedy that has taken place. He deserves to know. More than anyone.
Before Adonis could step off the elevator, Kuro stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Bewildered, Adonis turned around, arm stuck out awkwardly so as to keep the doors from closing.
“What? Was there something you wanted to tell me?” His tone was accusatory, like he already knew what Kuro was going to say.
“I…” just spit it out.
Wait what? That didn’t sound like Adonis at all. He was a polite young man.
Kuro blinked, and he was alone in the elevator as it slowly rose to the third floor. He hadn’t stopped Adonis from leaving after all. Was he actually going insane?
He stepped out as the doors opened and walked on. He walked past Shinobu and Tsukasa, who seemed to have left their room together, chatting. Those poor boys. Finding a dead body in your bathroom must be shocking. Kuro would have to treat them to lunch some time.
Speaking of lunch…
Kuro stopped at the empty shared kitchen, looking out at the fridge. He slowly walked over and opened it. His strawberry milkshake was nowhere to be seen.
A voice called out from behind, “I think Kanzaki thought that was his and took it. He might’ve gotten confused because I told him I’d be going back to get him something, too.”
Kuro would have startled if he wasn’t so exhausted. He turned around, mumbling, “Hasumi.” How could he wallow in his own misery when Keito was clearly in worse shape? No wonder he seemed to have gotten better just after a little walk and sent Kuro away the moment he brought his mood down. He has chosen to live in a world where Kanzaki Souma never died and everything was perfectly fine. Poor Hasumi. Poor guy. The thought would have brought a tear to Kuro’s eye if it weren’t so dry.
For a few seconds, Keito was silent, seemingly taking in the state of the man in front of him. He then sighed one of his trademark disappointed sighs and placed his hands on his hips like he was about to give one of his trademark disappointed lectures. “Kiryu, you look horrible.”
“Well, thanks.”
“I’m serious. What the hell happened?”
It was so unfair. Now that Keito had chosen to cope via living in a fantasy, Kuro no longer had anyone to confide in about their loss. With fewer people to remember him, how could they keep his memory alive? He chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously. How long until they announce this publicly already?
But Keito’s patience was wearing thin, “okay, since you don’t seem to want to talk to me, I’ll ask you a few questions instead. Specifically on the things you wrote in my office this morning.”
Morning? Hadn’t it been the afternoon? Kuro had overslept, hadn’t he? He wanted to think poor Hasumi again, but a quick glance at the window told him it couldn’t be later than two o’clock in the afternoon. If he’d awoken at one, surely it would be about four or five by now, right? Surely the sky would be darker by now, right?
“First of all, your suggestion to do a charity show doesn’t seem like a bad idea, but what the hell did you mean by ‘all proceeds go to the funeral’? What funeral? And why did you write everything else like a will? And—more importantly—why’d you choose to give half of your salary to the Kanzaki family? Because I am certainly not approving something that extreme without good reason. Did you and Kanzaki discuss this behind my back? Incorrigible.”
He said his famous catchphrase. Kuro could practically feel the comfort of normalcy cling to his fingertips, a rush of wind past his ears—it made him feel all the more guilty that he now was being forced to break Keito’s blissful illusion. He braced himself, and then placed grounding hands on Keito’s shoulders, “look… don’t panic, okay?”
Keito immediately frowned, eyes wide with concern, “pardon? Kiryu, what are you…”
Kuro then remembered Keito’s advice from earlier, and figured they must have come from his own experience hearing the news. Who did he hear it from, Kuro wondered. Did the hospital call? Had Souma listed Keito as an emergency number? Hasumi and not me? He was their leader after all. He should’ve asked when he had the chance. “You have to sit down for me to tell you this.”
He could practically see the moment Keito’s heart picked up its pace. He shook his shoulders a little, as if trying to break free from Kuro’s hands as they pushed him down onto the couch. “Kiryu, you’re worrying me. Can’t you answer my questions first? Why—why are you writing a will? What are you planning? Kiryu? Kiryu?”
Kuro looked down at the ground. He couldn’t bear having to look into those frightened eyes as he broke the news. Was this how Keito had felt? Had his finger hovered over the call button for hours on end, terrified out of his mind? Our friend is dead. Our friend is dead. Our friend is dead. How many times had he rehearsed his lines, only to improvise in the end? Kiryu, you have to sit down before I tell you this. Was that piece of advice really based on his own experience just hours prior? Had he been standing tall, only to collapse when his knees crumbled from the sheer weight of the news broken to him? Kuro had found him on the ground, after all. Two grieving men, inexperienced in their sadness, trying their hardest to grapple with the reality of loss.
“Kiryu! Stop this nonsense!”
Words failed him. And when he peeled his eyes open and tugged his head upwards to look his teammate in the eye, his every movement talked on his behalf. It said, be strong. A voice like wisteria of resilience and immortality; bright like the summer bird. And when he spoke, uplifted by both the red sky above and greenery below, the winds accommodated his song…
“You’re being unreasonable—! Are you even hearing me?”
… Made way for the summer bird’s poem.
He loosened his grip, until his hands slipped away. “Kanzaki’s gone, Hasumi. I’m sorry.”
Keito went quiet. It was an unbearable few minutes of silence until he finally spoke again, “huh?” uncharacteristically unimaginative in his vocabulary.
“I know.” Kuro’s knees felt weak, so he moved to sit beside him before he could collapse. He had to be their pillar. “I’m sorry to remind you, but living in denial isn’t a good idea; you’ll never move on that way. Trust me, I know that well.”
“Kiryu, what the hell.”
He bit his lip before it dared quiver, “the journey to healin’s gonna be real’ tough, but… we’ve got each other, Hasumi. Don’t forget I’m here. We’re in this together.”
“Did Hibiki rope you into one of his jokes? This one isn’t one bit funny, by the way.”
He placed a hand over his eyes as he felt his nose sting once more. Poor Hasumi. How far into the hole of denial would Kuro have to reach in order to pull him back to his senses? “Try to remember. You’re the one who found out first. Remember—that dread.”
“Kiryu, please look at me.”
How could he? “The call, Hasumi.”
“What call? Look at me, Kiryu.”
“It’s alright. We’ll be okay eventually.” your mother smiles at you.
“Kiryu. Look at me.”
A voice so gentle. “I’ll be with you every step of the way.” she strokes your hair with weak hands.
Keito cradled his jaw, bringing them face to face. For a moment, he was so struck with shock at the state Kuro had brought himself to that he froze—surely a mess of tears and snot and blotches of red. Then, he frowned, the corners of his mouth pulling down almost comically. Kuro wanted to laugh at it, but the only thing he could find humour in at that moment was his own pitiful aching head. So much for being strong.
Then, Keito wordlessly handed him a tissue, and apparently changed his mind on doing that when Kuro’s hand trembled on its journey to reach it. Instead, he took on the task of wiping his unit-mate’s face himself, and then rested his cradled head against his chest as he pulled out his phone, thumb moving at lightning-speed as he texted one-handed. Kuro’s racing mind began to calm as he listened to the even beat of his heart.
“Just now,” he said just as Kuro’s eyelids had begun to droop, “were you trying to tell me that Kanzaki somehow died?”
Silence. Then, a guilty admission, “yeah. ‘M sorry, Danna.”
“Well, that can’t be possible, because not only is he texting me right now, but he’s saying that he saw you just a little while ago.” he paused. Then, “apparently, he briefly greeted you, but you ignored him.”
A glimpse of a ponytail rushing past him. Kuro’s heart rate spiked.
“I’m asking him to meet us here right now. I don’t think anyone other than him will be able to get through to you.”
Perhaps this was a dream. Kuro finally closed his eyes. That, or Keito was still delusional. He opened his eyes, and Keito was staring at him.
“You should go wash your face before he gets here.”
Well, he’ll comply for now. If only to show a more cleaned up version of himself to his leader.
So, he left, and one glance at his reflection in the bathroom mirror made him cringe, so he hurried with washing up and stood up straight. He then practised breathing exercises until his face regained its original colour and his eyes shone with a reflection of the bathroom light rather than the tell-tale glisten of incoming tears.
As he walked the halls once more after spending who knows how long in front of that sink, he could distantly hear a soft chatter from the shared lounge. He refused to allow his heart to soar with hope.
And when he stepped in, he heard him.
“Kiryu-dono!”
He stood there. Kanzaki Souma in the flesh, alive and breathing and right beside Hasumi Keito. His lively ponytail swung in the air as he turned his head and gave a joyful smile, full of life. He wore a white shirt almost identical to Kuro’s, save for the fact that it was far too light for the chilly autumn weather, but the warm-coloured jacket that lay folded over the couch beside him implied he was aware of that fact. Souma was right there, but Kuro was afraid he would crumble if he tore his gaze away, so he remained still. Observing.
Souma instead walked closer, smile not waning one bit, “I felt a little uneasy when you hadn’t seemed to see me earlier, but Hasumi-dono has kindly informed me of the fact that you are currently unwell, and thus had perhaps been too ill to notice my presence. Although I understand your reasons now, it has not done well to quell my worries! For if you are ill, that is but another issue we must tackle!”
He was real. Surely this was the lively voice of a real and alive Kanzaki Souma. But just in case…
“Kiryu-dono—?” Kuro did not waste another moment staring in awe. He propelled himself forwards, almost tackling Souma as he pulled him into the strongest embrace he could manage. He closed his eyes and focused until he heard the pulse of his beating heart. It was quiet, it was far, but it was there. He was breathing. Alive.
Sensing Souma’s incoming distress, Keito interjected, “sorry, Kanzaki, but will you let him be for a moment? For an entire morning, Kiryu was convinced he’d been sent to live in a… less fortunate world.”
“Is that so?” Souma blinked, and slowly returned the hug with a big grin. “Worry not, Kiryu-dono! Even if that were to happen, I shall forever be your strength and remain loyal by your side!” His words did not alleviate Kuro’s mood in the slightest. Instead, the arms around him began to shake, and Kuro buried his face into his shoulder, trying but failing to hide the fact that he had begun to weep.
“Sorry, Kanzaki,” he choked out, “I’m just—I’m glad to see you. That you’re okay.” What a relief. What a relief! Oh, what joy! What joy. Thank goodness. The universe was kind after all.
Keito eventually approached and slowly wrapped his own arms around the two of them. “That cruel world you thought was real will never come to be, Kiryu. AKATSUKI will forever consist of the three of us. And until the end, we will be together.”
Kuro pulled his face away, and Souma gasped, “Kiryu-dono, please do not cry! I swear on the Kanzaki name that whoever has dared to hurt Kiryu-dono will suffer a cold death by my blade—!”
“Enough of that, Kanzaki,” Keito cut him off with a huff, pulling him close by the back of the head, soon doing the same with Kuro. He held the two close to him as he spoke, “it was only… a bad dream. Isn’t that right, Kiryu?”
What does it mean to be alive? Surely, it’s this; the warmth of family around you, the comfort of seeing their smiles cast upon you, the relief of knowing that they are safe. That you are loved.
There is love in the way Kanzaki frets over his crying, there is love in the way Hasumi scolds Kanzaki for his empty threats. There is love in the way the corners of their lips twitch upwards in response to the way he cannot help but snicker as he watches them argue. There is love in the sound of their unified laughter. He holds onto them tighter. He cannot lose them. He will never lose them. Their hands grip onto his shirt with equal strength, and they say, we are with you. They say, we are your strength.
And Kuro is happier than he has ever been.
.
.
.
That night, Kuro was hesitant to look away from Souma for even a second, so Keito invited them to spend the night at his family temple home.
They took turns showering, and when Souma went last, Keito pulled Kuro down to the floor to talk.
“Wait,” Kuro said, “I know you’ve probably got tons of questions for me, but can I ask you some stuff first?”
Keito opened his mouth to argue, but then abruptly shut it. He nodded.
Kuro took a deep breath. He then asked, “when I woke up in your office earlier—or no, rather, um…” he paused, trying to gather his words. “What happened before I fell asleep in your office? How did I end up there in the first place? My memory’s all jumbled… Actually, could you tell me everything that happened in the morning up to that point?”
After shooting him a concerned look, Keito then tried to answer him as concisely as possible, “well, I assume you woke up at around seven in the morning, as always, and went on your daily jog… I texted you at about nine…” he pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before showing him the screen, “see? I asked you to meet me in my office. You arrived quickly, and Kanzaki was there, too. We had a quick conversation all together until Kanzaki had to go meet with Otogari, and then I handed you your documents to fill.”
He remembered now. He could even recall their conversation as three: they had started by discussing their latest performance, but that had eventually derailed to a conversation about cats, as Souma had pointed out having seen a fan in the audience wearing a cat-eared hat. After Souma had left, Kuro remembered the annoyance that had eaten at him as he’d played with his pen on the couch without doing any real work—up until he had fallen asleep.
And that was when things had gone downhill.
“I think I had a hyper-realistic dream or somethin’,” Kuro hummed, crossing his arms across his chest as he mused, “my dream started with me waking up in my bed and ended with me falling asleep in your office. It’s no wonder I got confused, wakin’ up in the same place my dream ended and all.” Of course, after that, certain things throughout the day hadn’t quite added up with the timeline established in his dream, but he had been too caught up in despair to realise.
“So…” Keito cleared his throat, a nervous habit, “in your dream, Kanzaki died?”
“… Yeah.”
“Was I not aware? In the dream?”
“You were,” Kuro nodded, “you’re—you were the one who told me in the first place. That’s why when you didn’t seem to remember earlier, I assumed you’d just convinced yourself it hadn’t been real… well, though I’m the one who ended up delusional in that situation.”
Light eyes turning sad, Keito hummed, “and so you confused the dream with reality, and spent almost the entire day fully believing Kanzaki was dead and gone.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Kuro nodded stiffly, “yeah. It made me genuinely sick.”
“Anyone could see that…”
They fell into an awkward silence, the calming sound of the distant rushing of water filling in for their voices.
But Keito wasn’t satisfied just yet. He pushed his glasses up and asked, “what was it like?”
The reply came fast, “hell.”
And it was enough.
The distant sounds of water faded to a stop. Souma would soon return.
“Oh, and Hasumi?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s do monthly check-ups at the doctors’ from now on.”
Keito’s eyebrows flew up in curiosity, but he did not prod. “Alright,” he said, and that was that.
Soon after, the prince of the day slid into the room with a refreshed smile, his long hair free to roam his shoulders and back without ribbon’s constraint. “Kiryu-dono, Hasumi-dono, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”
“Of course not.” Kuro tapped the spot on the tatami mat between himself and Keito, “get over here.”
Souma’s smile stretched on further with mirth as he jogged over and plopped himself down in the middle. He leant into Kuro, who lifted an arm to wrap around his shoulders.
“I ought to get the tea ready,” Keito sighed, standing up. “I’ll be back in just a bit.” he gave Kuro a pointed look before leaving the room.
Souma looked up, watching the way Kuro stared out ahead at the open sliding door in front of them; there lived the sway of trees in the cool wind, the shine of the moon and stars…
“Kiryu-dono?”
“Hm?”
“I feel that I have been left in the dark about some sort of secret all day,” he confessed, pulling away slowly, “I implore you to please entrust your woes to me. If that is fine with you.”
Kuro smiled. He finally turned to look at him, and his eyes were filled with melancholy. Bittersweet. He ruffled Souma’s hair, and then gently patted down the mess he caused. “That’s alright. I just had a pretty bad nightmare, and it stuck with me all day, I guess. It’ll all be forgotten by tomorrow.”
Souma blinked. “Was I involved in the nightmare’s contents at all?”
“… Yeah. you died.” he had no intention to elaborate, and that was fine. It’ll all be forgotten by tomorrow.
Souma’s expression did not falter. He politely nodded, and then scooted a little closer. “How was I killed? Did an evil deity smite me by way of sword? Was it perhaps by heroic sacrifice?”
Kuro chuckled. Talking about it like this made it feel so far away. So impossible. “Not at all. Cardiac arrest is what did you in, ‘m afraid.”
And the appalled look on Souma’s face almost made him burst into a fit of laughter. He resisted, palm slapping against his mouth as he chortled uncontrollably, shoulders quaking. He couldn’t hold it anymore when Souma exclaimed, “cardiac arrest?!”
What joy. His chest hurt with every giggle stolen from his breath. He felt alive. Meanwhile, Souma looked mortified, eyebrows tilted upwards in hurt as he complained.
“No descendant of the honourable Kanzaki bloodline has ever been afflicted with heart disease! This turn of events would be very unlikely!” he cried, “my only options are to die of old age or in battle! What a distasteful dream!”
Tears of glee pricked at the corners of his eyes. He continued to laugh, doubling over while Souma shuffled to a corner of the room, where he retrieved his resting sword, unsheathing it gracefully with a swift swing.
“This mighty sword of mine would never stand for a demise so plain! It has sworn to watch over me so long as I carry it!”
“Kanzaki! Put that down now!” uh oh. The king has returned.
Smiling sheepishly, Souma hid his sword behind his back, the hilt peeking over his head. The saya sat politely just by his feet, and he slowly bent down to reach it. Keito narrowed his eyes, and Souma sighed, sheathing his sword once more before reluctantly returning it to its place. When he hesitated, Keito scowled, but combined with the slow stride he took to not spill any of the tea he carried, it was hard to take him seriously.
Kuro finally calmed down to simple snickering just as Keito knelt to gingerly set down the tray, and he exhaled merrily when he was handed a cup of tea. “Thanks, Hasumi no Danna.”
“Drink slowly, it’s hot. Kanzaki, come over here.”
Souma happily obliged, shuffling back to Kuro’s side. He bowed his head respectfully as he was handed his own cup and lifted it to his lips in an attempt to drink slowly as instructed, but the adrenaline-powered tremor in his hands caused him to sip a little too much at once, and he swiftly placed the cup down on instinct. He stuck out his burnt tongue with a pained squeeze of his eyes, desperately fanning at it with his hand.
Keito sighed in exasperation, “What’s with you tonight? You’ve too much energy, Kanzaki." Still, he followed his scolding with the kind act of pulling out a water bottle from behind his back and handing it over. Souma quickly took it and downed the bottle in half a second.
Kuro watched them with a fond heart.
“You ought to apologise to Kiryu for bothering him with your erratic behaviour tonight.”
“Of course! My deepest apologies, Kiryu-dono!”
“It’s fine. Hasumi, you oughta cut the kid some slack. It’s not his fault he’s so youthful!”
“Kiryu, you’re not much older than he is.”
“And?”
The conversation ended there, with a sheepish Souma, an amused Keito, and a jolly Kuro. They will soon finish drinking their tea, argue about who will do the dishes, and then head straight to bed, into their individual futon mattresses.
They will then wish each other goodnight, and Kuro will lay between the two of them and close his eyes with a smile. He will clutch the ring that sits close to his heart and listen to his friends’ breaths until they slow down. He will then lay waiting until he is sure that they are deep in sleep, and whisper,
“I love you.”
And the next morning will be kind to him, once again.