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The gods died ten thousand years ago. They had been burned to ashes in the last war against the Titans, and from their remains, Gaia had made herself anew for humans. From there, humans had recovered and progressed, into the modern society it was today.
Frankly, Kuroo thought it was a load of crap.
Sure, he believed in God. Or gods. After all, the universe had been made so perfectly, something had to be behind it. If there was just 5% more oxygen in the atmosphere, oxygen would be toxic to humans. It was too precise to be a coincidence. So yes, Kuroo did believe in God.
What he didn’t believe, was that they’d all just…died. Weren’t gods immortal? There was no way they’d simply burned to death. Sakusa told him he thought too much. Which was fair, Kuroo was a nerd when it came to Greek mythology. Still, he felt that they did exist. Somewhere.
”I can’t believe finals are finally over,” Kuroo groaned, dragging himself out of the exam hall. It had been a grueling two months leading up to finals. Kuroo had been running on four hours of sleep and five energy drinks per day. It’s not the worst habits to have - he’d heard horror stories of those pulling all-nighters and throwing back caffeine like water - but he still knew how to take care of himself okay?
Next to him, Yaku nodded. “Yamaguchi, Yachi and Sakusa finished their finals today as well. Aran and Komori finished yesterday, I think.”
”Lucky bastards,” Kuroo said as they made their way out of the building. “I think we should go out and celebrate the end of finals.”
Yaku levelled him a look. Their mismatched group was not one for partying. Really, Kuroo was the only one. Komori sometimes joined him, when he was in the mood. Sakusa outright refused to go to any clubs, no matter how much his cousin needles him. Yachi and Yamaguchi were homebodies, far too shy to go to such places. Aran simply went with the flow.
“I meant like, a bar. To drink. That is Sakusa-approved,” Kuroo clarified. Such bars were rare, but not unheard of. The only problem was that they were all pretty high-end, and unlike Sakusa and Komori, the rest of them were your average broke college students surviving on instant noodles and energy drinks. “C’mon, it’s to celebrate finals. That’s like, once a year,” Kuroo said, seeing Yaku’s unconvinced look.
It took a lot of persuading. First for Yaku, then for Sakusa. It really shouldn’t be taking so much energy to get their little group to go celebrate the end of finals, for fuck’s sake, but Kuroo did love their odd little group, and so he was willing match Sakusa’s stubbornness until the cows came home.
Kuroo was in the middle of surveying bars that were within their general price range and still Sakusa-approved, when Yaku suddenly snaps upright. That drew the attention of the rest of them, crowded around Komori’s living room. “Yaku?” Yamaguchi questioned the other.
“I know a bar,” Yaku said, turning to Sakusa. “It’s owned by a few friends. I can call ahead to ask them to disinfect a booth for us.”
”Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Kuroo whined, throwing his phone down onto the carpeted floor. “You could’ve saved me a good thirty minutes!"
Yaku shrugged. “I forgot,” he answered simply. He glanced at the rest of the group. “Are you all okay with it? It’s not super pricey.”
Yachi nodded vigorously in response, mouth stuffed too full of the lemon cake that Yaku and Kuroo had bought for her on the way back to answer verbally. “Sounds good,” Aran said.
“Alright then,” Yaku said, picking up his phone to make the call.
——
At eight pm that night, their small group of six stood in front of a dimly lit building, nondescript, with absolutely nothing that gave it away as a bar, made all the more ominous by the sounds of crashing waves not far off. Hell, there were no windows, and the door was made of wood instead of the usual glass one would see. There were no flashing neon signs, posters, or even a shop title. There was only a piece of paper taped to the door that looked dangerously close to disintegrating with the slightest touch. Written in loopy, cursive writing, it simply read, ‘All are welcome.’
”Are you sure we’re at the right place?” Yachi bounced nervously from foot to foot, looking all around her, almost as if expecting someone to jump out of the shadows. Which was fair, they were in a rather dark and empty area. Scratch that, there was absolutely no one around them. They were the only ones standing in the little street.
“Yeah, we are,” Yaku said with a long-suffering sigh. “I keep telling them they need to touch up the place. They insist it’s part of the ‘charm’.” Already, Yaku was heading for the door of the bar. If it could even be called one.
The rest of them follow tentatively. Sakusa looked close to just dashing off, which was firmly prevented by Komori gripping his sleeve to keep him there. “When I die, make sure nothing goes to Yaku,” Kuroo muttered. Aran laughed at that, the sound loud and sharp in the quiet of the night.
Yaku knocks on the door; thrice fast, twice slow, before turning the doorknob slowly to the right once, and quickly to the left. Kuroo almost expected a magical portal to appear before them. The door opened with a click instead, disappointingly normal.
The inside was…normal, if a bit unexpected. The bar was warmly lit, more like a library than a bar. It also appeared bigger than it did on the outside, though Kuroo figures that was because of the lighting. There were booths and tables all around, all seeming to be lit by different things, like candles with blue flames and jack-o-lanterns. The actual bar was in the centre of the room. Behind it were two bartenders, one tall, blond one with glasses who looked like they’d rather be anywhere but here. The other bartender, with white-and-black hair, seemed to be chattering their ear off. For some reason, despite the loudness of the bartender and the almost fully packed bar, it was weirdly quiet. Not the oppressive, harsh kind of quiet, but of a room filled with quiet discussion, almost like one was underwater.
“Yaku!” The white-and-black-haired bartender shouted when he catches sight of them. Yaku simply waved a hand in greeting, already making his way to a booth. They trailed dumbly behind, taking in the bar.
There’s something off about this place, Kuroo decided. If he strained hard enough, he could almost feel a quiet thrum in the air, like the worn walls of the bar itself was humming with life. If he looked closely at one of the other customers, they seemed to be…drenched? The bar was nice and cool though. Another glared at Kuroo when he made eye contact by pure accident, and their gaze was hot and fiery. For a moment, Kuroo felt like he was burning from the inside out.
Yachi tugged frantically at Yaku’s sleeve. “What is this place?” She hissed, casting nervous looks all over the place. At least he wasn't the only one feeling weird about this place. Yamaguchi and Aran looked on edge as well. Sakusa was attempting to look unbothered, hiding beneath his mask.
“I think that guy is going to kill me,” Komori whispered as he discreetly pointed at the same guy who’d glared at Kuroo. Kuroo shoved Komori’s head down.
The booth was normal enough. It’s lit with lanterns, the flames flickering softly, casting shadows over their faces. Sakusa carefully inspected the table and the seat before deeming it satisfactory, sliding into the seat next to Aran.
The bartender suddenly appeared at their booth (suspiciously fast, Kuroo hadn’t even seen them), with a loud, “Hey hey hey!” Yachi shrieked, knocking into Yamaguchi, who stepped on Kuroo’s foot. Kuroo swore under his breath, clutching at his foot, head slamming down onto the table as he waited for the pain to subside.
“Sorry, Kuroo!” Yamaguchi rushed to apologise, as did Yachi. Kuroo waved them off, the pain in his foot fading into a dull throb.
The bartender had the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry, bro! You okay?” They asked. Kuroo gritted out a ‘yeah, thanks’, trying not to think about the shoe stain that was most definitely on his only presentable pair of shoes. Hearing that, the bartender beamed down at them. “Hey hey hey! Welcome to the Pantheon! Since you’re our dear cat-”
He’s cut off by Yaku jabbing his elbow into his stomach. “Ignore Bokuto, He’s ridiculous,” Yaku said. Kuroo feels the slightest bit of pity for Bokuto. Having been on the receiving end of many of Yaku’s elbow jabs and kicks, he could safely say that they hurt like a bitch. “Where’s Kenma?” Yaku continued, entirely unapologetic.
“Hiding out in the kitchen, I think,” Bokuto wheezed, clutching his stomach. “Why is your elbow so sharp?”
“I’ll find him later then,” Yaku turned to them. “This is Bokuto Koutarou. He’s the friend I mentioned earlier.”
A round of introductions sounded out before orders were placed. Kuroo was determined to do what they came here for, no matter how weird this bar was. Bokuto seemed almost disappointed by their orders, saying something about how they were boring. Kuroo didn’t quite catch it, attention fixed on Komori’s endeavour of coaxing Sakusa into trying tequila, though it was unsuccessful.
When the drinks came, they chatted for a while about this and that. Then Kuroo proposed a drinking game, and it all went downhill from there, or uphill depending on whose perspective you were looking at, from there. Yachi was a lightweight, and she’s the first to get tipsy. Komori followed after. A slightly tipsy Yamaguchi was forced to go get a new round of drinks, having lost the game. He’s unlucky, as Bokuto wasn’t there, so he had to deal with that apathetic looking bartender. Although, maybe it wasn’t so bad, seeing as how ten minutes had passed and Yamaguchi was still talking to the bartender.
With a sigh, Kuroo stood. “I’ll go get him,” he said to Sakusa and Aran, both of whom were still nursing their first drink, the responsible drinkers they were.
Kuroo could feel the beginnings of the delicious, tingly sensation of tipsiness. He walked steadily to the bar, fully focused on getting to Yamaguchi and that blond bartender. Or maybe he’s drunker than he thought, because he walked straight into someone. There was a moment of flailing, where Kuroo tried to grab them to steady them, and they grabbed him to steady themself. Except Kuroo missed - he really might be drunker than he thought - while the stranger didn't, but gravity was a bitch so they both went down.
Vaguely, Kuroo noted that the body beneath him was small. Especially for an adult, because he didn't think a child would be in a bar, of all places. He scrambled off them, five different apologies already on his tongue, except —
They all died in his throat.
The stranger was beautiful. They were rather small, with dyed blond hair reaching their shoulders, the dark brown roots already growing quite far out, as if they were too lazy to dye their hair again. They’re dressed simply, just a plain red sweater and sweatpants, but it’s their eyes that caught Kuroo’s attention. They were light brown, but in the soft firelight of the bar, they almost looked golden. There’s a startlingly sharp, calculating clarity in those golden, golden eyes, and, strangely, something almost…all-knowing.
For a moment, Kuroo felt as if they could see into his soul, getting a glimpse of the nearly inhuman depth those keen eyes held. He was also getting the general impression that this guy was probably some kind of genius.
They raised an eyebrow, already collecting and dusting themself off. It snapped Kuroo into action. He rushed to stand, the world spinning underneath him for a moment, but it’s fine because he could see those eyes the colour of honey. Even if they looked unimpressed and disinterested. Oh, and they were leaving.
Kuroo unwittingly stumbled after them - seriously, how drunk was he? - blinking as he watched them stroll right up to their booth. Yaku lazily lifted his head, eyes lighting up at the sight of the blond.
“What’s the occasion? You’re usually not in the front of the bar,” Yaku asked, skipping right past greeting them. They seemed to know each other quite well.
“Heard you were here,” was the blond’s lazy reply. Yaku looked unconvinced, and for a moment they just stared at each other. Were they communicating? Through their eyes? How well did they know each other? Kuroo blinked back when Yaku suddenly addressed him.
“Kuroo, this is Kozume Kenma. Kenma, this is Kuroo Tetsuro,” Yaku said, tone almost unwilling, dragging a hand over his face.
Kozume Kenma. He had a name to match the face now. Kuroo realised that he’d been openly staring at Kozume for a while now, and dragged his gaze away.
“Oh shit, I was supposed to grab the drinks,” Kuroo said. He’d been so caught up he’d forgotten his original purpose of even going to the bar. Yaku waved him off, and to his surprise, Kozume followed after him. “So, um, Kozume, you’re a friend of Yaku’s?” Kuroo tried for conversational. He landed on awkward instead.
Kozume nodded. “Just call me Kenma,” he said. Kuroo was either very drunk or going crazy because he could distantly hear an echo of rustling paper in Kenma’s voice. “I don’t bother with all those formalities.”
“Alright, Kenma then,” Kuroo was rather pleased, though logically Kenma probably told that to everyone. Still. “How’d you guys meet?”
“High school,” Kenma said shortly. Not much of a talker then. That was fine, Kuroo could talk enough for both of them. And he did, regaling Kenma with stories of their group’s antics as they waited for Bokuto, now back at the bar, to make their drinks. Yamaguchi was still caught up with that blond bartender, a suspicious redness to his cheeks that didn’t seem to entirely be because of alcohol.
Kenma didn’t show much emotion either. There’s barely any change to his neutral expression. But he listened, asking questions at the right places. It’s nice to be listened to. There’s a sort of quiet, knowing hum in Kenma’s presence. It’s comforting, weirdly enough.
All too soon, they had the drinks and were heading back to the booth. Aran was trying to coax a drunk Yachi to drink water. Sakusa was doing the same for Komori, though he also seemed to be threatening his cousin, if he even dared to try to throw up on him. Yaku glanced at them as they approached.
“This is new,” Yaku said, directed at Kenma. Kenma calmly took from one of the glasses.
“I will tell them about your hellhound,” Kenma said casually, taking another sip. Yaku turned a shockingly bright shade of red, sputtering.
“He is not my hellhound—!”
“Hellhound?” Kuroo interrupted sluggishly. That wasn’t even the weirdest part. He swore he saw a flash of fucking cat ears on Yaku’s head, but they’re gone in the blink of an eye, so fast Kuroo wondered if he’d hallucinated them.
Kenma levelled a bored look at Kuroo, before turning to Yaku. “I don’t understand why you insist on mingling with mortals,” he said, and there’s the echo of rustling papers in his voice again, stronger this time.
Yaku snorted. “And yet you were willingly talking to him. I thought you hated being social.”
The more they talked, the more confused Kuroo was. Kenma was referring to humans as mortals. Who referred to humans like that? And they were talking about hellhounds, nymphs, and the mythical creatures Kuroo had learned about online, like they were real. Yaku definitely had cat ears and a tail now, the same sandy blond as his hair. And his nails had elongated, almost like claws.
Kuroo was also close enough to Kenma, the other standing right next to where he’d sat down when they returned to the booth, that he could smell the rich scent of old books, libraries and ink clinging to the blond, even though that shouldn’t even be possible, what the fuck—
“Oh, I forgot about him,” Yaku said suddenly, ears flicking up towards Kuroo. Which, rude, Kuroo was not one to be easily forgotten, thank you very much. Though he will admit he’s been more subdued tonight, caught up in all this confusion.
“What’s going on?” Kuroo blurted out, unable to stop himself. It’s a fair question to ask. “Why the hell do you have cat ears? The fuck’s up with this weird ass bar? Wait, am I drunk and hallucinating all this? Is that what’s going on? Because no way this is all happening right now.”
Kenma made a noise of disgust. “He actually has a piece of me?” His tone was similar to the expression he was giving Kuroo right now — plain disbelief and contempt. Kuroo didn’t have time to focus on how the expression is actually rather adorable; he’s more intrigued by what Kenma had said.
“A piece of you?” Kuroo rounded on him, dark brown eyes trained on Kenma with a sudden intensity. Kenma blinked, slow and cat-like, leaning back slightly.
Yaku sighs. “He does,” he said in answer to Kenma’s question, because they’d both apparently decided to ignore Kuroo. “I checked and all. Thoroughly. Believe me, I didn’t believe it when I first found out either.”
“What the fuck is happening?” Kuroo asked, louder. For some reason, Aran and Sakusa still didn’t seem aware of their conversation, giving no indication that they’d heard him. Actually, none of the other customers had. Okay, this was getting creepy.
“You’ve got a piece of Kenma in you,” Yaku said slowly, enunciating each word like Kuroo was slow.
“Yeah, I got that. How? Or better yet, what?”
“It’s none of your concern,” Kenma shut down the conversation. He raised a hand as Kuroo opened his mouth in an attempt to protest. But no words came out, Kenma’s finger poking his forehead with a gentleness that didn’t seem typical for the faux blond. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, darkness overtaking his subconscious, dragging him into its depths.
“Goodnight, Kuro.”
Is the last thing he heard before he blacked out.
——
“You’re being unusually kind,” Yaku observed, the cat lazily flicking his tail back and forth. “You’d have knocked them all out by now. And ‘Kuro’? Really?”
Kenma watched Kuroo breathe steadily. There weren’t many mortals who had a solid piece of him inside them; in fact, he could count them all on two hands. More often than not, mortals only had very faint traces, or slivers if they were lucky. Yet here Kuroo was, unknowingly carrying a comparatively big piece of Kenma in his soul. Sure, it’s not the biggest, but the size of it was still pretty impressive. Shame Kenma hadn’t seen any of that on display though. Kuroo had spent most of the time just staring at him, for whatever reason, or looking utterly bewildered by their conversation.
“No,” Kenma said, standing up. “You’re overthinking it. Have you paid a visit to the Underworld yet? Your hellhound is getting particularly annoying. Having my gaming sessions constantly being interrupted is a pain.”
“He’s not my hellhound,” Yaku groaned, slumping onto the table.
Kenma didn’t bother to answer. He simply turned on his heel, deciding to head off now that there was nothing to keep his interest. Sure, Yaku was fine - it was why Kenma had chosen him as his assistant - but Kenma generally hated social interactions. They sucked the life out of him.
“I still think you’ve taken a liking to him,” Yaku called. Kenma didn’t even spare him a glance back, feet carrying him back to the kitchen, where he spent most of his time holed up in when he was forced to be on shift. The moment he stepped onto the staircase, he felt the bubble he’d created around Yaku, Kuroo and himself pop, and the hold he had over Kuroo disintegrated. That was fine, he’d already taken the other’s memories.
Still, even as he retreated back into the kitchen, Yaku’s words lingered in his mind.