A/N: Hello, people of the world! Thanks for clicking on this story! It's my first yaoi so don't hate too much. And jut so we are clear, there is no smut. Absolutely none. If any of you have read any of my other stuff, you should know that is not my style. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Opposites Attract

Kuroh Yatogami stared up at the intimidating school building with a mixture of dread and anxiety. He really wished he had brought his sword with him (not that he wanted to hurt anyone or anything, he just felt safer with it on him) but of course the school hadn't allowed for him to bring his real sword to school, let alone his first day. At least a wooden sword was better than nothing. Hoping that his late father was watching him from somewhere above, he walked into the building.

"Class, if I could have your attention, please." The teacher said loudly. The small groups of teenagers around the room grew silent. "Before class begins, I would like to welcome our newest student." At this, he beckoned to someone that was standing just outside the door. On cue, Kuroh walked in, determined not to look anyone directly in the eyes. The teacher smiled at him. "If you could please introduce yourself, young man." He said, handing him a piece of chalk.

"Yes, sir." Kuroh said politely before making his way to the board and writing his name in elegant hiragana characters. Then, he turned and gave a small bow. "My name is Kuroh Yatogami. I am very pleased to meet you all."

There wasn't much reaction from his new classmates. A few of them looked at him disinterestedly, while others smiled at him.

"Well, there are a few minutes before class starts, so I encourage you all to make friends with Mr. Yatogami." The teacher said before leaving the room.

Kuroh stood there for a minute, glancing at everyone, before quickly making his way to the back of the classroom and sitting cross-legged on top of one of the desks. To his slight dismay, a few of the students came to greet him.

Eventually, the teacher walked back in and called for everyone to get to their seats, asking the class to pull out their ancient literature textbooks.

"Hey." The boy seated beside Kuroh hissed. He glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. The boy was silent for a moment, as if contemplating something. Then, he blurted it out in a rushed whisper. "You are a guy right?"

Kuroh whirled his head in his direction. Was it really that hard to tell? What was making it so difficult to determine his gender? Was it his long, black hair tied up in a ponytail? His lithe body? Or was it his face?

The boy glanced around at the other students, noticing that they were listening in on this as well. Finally, he turned to the boy next to him. "Yes."

Some of the students "oh-ed" at this revelation.

"Quiet there in the back." The teacher called.

Kuroh sat back with a relieved sigh. It was lunch time. Now, he could finally get a break from the constant questions that people kept poking him with. These were mostly about his gender and why he carried around a wooden sword. To answer that last part, he considered himself a samurai. His father had taught him in the ways of martial arts, mostly kendo, for as long as he could remember.

Looking at the brilliantly blue sky, Kuroh relaxed in his chair. As he reached down and pulled his lunchbox from his bag, he heard a girl yell something at someone, but he really wasn't paying much attention. As he sat up, lunch in hand, Kuroh came to stare at a pair of yellow eyes. He blinked in surprise before jerking away.

A smiling face met him, though to be honest, after seeing it hover there for a while, Kuroh thought it was the kind of smile a moron would wear. This particular moron had peculiar silvery white hair that just brushed his eyes. He was leaning over, his hands behind his back as he looked at the samurai.

They just stared at each other for a while. Finally, the white-haired boy spoke. "Hello there! My name is Yashiro Isana, but you can just call me 'Shiro.' You're the new student right?"

Kuroh eyed him warily. "Yes. I'm Kuroh Yatogami."

"Nice to meet you, Kuroh."

The black-haired boy blinked. 'Kuroh?' He had barely known this boy for ten seconds and he was already calling him by his first name?

Before he could say anything more, Shiro stood up straight and smiled at him, almost apologetically. "I know we just met and all, but could you do me a favor?"

Kuroh stared at him. ". . . And that would be?"

Immediately, Shiro pulled a lunchbox from behind his back. "I forgot to pack a lunch today. Do you think you could spare me some of yours?"

Kuroh quirked an eyebrow. "If you forgot to pack a lunch, then what is this?" He asked, gesturing toward the rice and various pieces of meat that he saw in the container.

"Well," Shiro started, "I only had time to make the rice this morning, so I asked around to see if anyone could spare some food for me."

The samurai scrutinized the meal before him. "Fine." He said, opening his own lunchbox.

"Thanks!" Shiro said, picking up a piece of fish with his chopsticks. "This looks good. Did you make this yourself?"

"Yes. I did." Kuroh said, a small feeling of pride welling up inside of him. Then he noticed with a start that Shiro was already beginning to move away. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"Did you need something, Kuroh?" Shiro asked, that same idiotic smile on his face.

A vein in Kuroh's temple twitched. "First of all, don't call me 'Kuroh'."

"But it would be awkward if I called my friend by his last name." Shiro whined.

"Friend? We just met five minutes ago!" Kuroh pinched the bridge of his nose. "Never mind." He said, taking his chopsticks and picking up a decently sized piece of broccoli. "That meal is unbalanced. You must pair that with some vegetables or else your poor diet will start to affect your health." At this, he plopped the green into Shiro's lunchbox.

Shiro gave the broccoli a grimace. "Thank you." He said, before dashing away, picking up his red parasol as he went.

Kuroh decided that he really just didn't like Yashiro Isana. How could he? They were complete opposites. Their names even said so: Kuroh and Shiro; Black and White. Shiro was annoying, and his intelligence level was quite contradicting. He was a care-free idiot in public, but in reality, he was competing with Kuroh for top of the class. This surprised the swordsman, expecting Shiro to be failing or barely passing his classes. He even had almost all of the same classes as Kuroh, so they saw each other every day.

However, Kuroh's opinion began to change one fine June afternoon. He had decided, for some reason, to go up to the roof. It was usually a restricted area, and being the samurai he was, Kuroh was a stickler for the rules, but today, something compelled him to rebel, just this once.

As Kuroh stepped out onto the rooftop, gazing at the wonderfully blue sky, he took a deep breath. That was when he noticed a red parasol, open and laying on the ground. He cocked his head, looking at it curiously. What was that doing here? He cautiously made his way over, his hand on the hilt of his sword. When he had moved enough so he could see under the umbrella, he was surprised at who he found.

"Yashiro Isana?"

It was indeed Shiro, his hands behind his head, his eyes closed, a small cat curled up on his chest and, of course, that same smile on his face. He cracked an eye open at the sound of his name.

"Kuroh! Hey. What are you doing up here?"

The vein in the raven-haired boy's temple twitched at the familiarity that Shiro had not earned, but he didn't bother lecturing the boy about it, seeing as how his many other lectures seemed to have no effect.

"I could ask the same of you. Is this not a restricted area?"

"That didn't stop you from coming up here, did it?" Shiro answered playfully.

Kuroh looked at him for a moment. Then he sat down, cross-legged, beside him with a huff. Shiro laughed before continuing to look up at the sky, his leg bouncing in a steady rhythm as it crossed over the other.

The samurai glared at him from the corner of his eye for a moment. Then he noticed the empty lunchbox that was beside him. "Do you eat lunch up here?" The boy hummed in affirmation. ". . . Why? Don't you have friends to eat with?"

Shiro seemed to think it over. "I have friends. They're great and all, but I enjoy eating up here with the view and the breeze."

Kuroh sat there, contemplating what he said as he looked over at the ocean and felt the breeze rustle through his hair. "That's understandable."

It was quiet between them after that, both of them intently listening to the wind and feeling the sun on their skin.

"Nature is the art of God."

Shiro looked around in confusion. That voice sounded scratchy, as if from a recording. He turned to see Kuroh holding a tape recorder.

"What was that?" The snowy-haired boy asked.

"My late father was a wise man." Kuroh said. "His words were pure poetry. So, every opportunity I had, I would record what he was saying. Now, whenever I want to hear his voice or get some advice, I play this."

Shiro stared at him for a moment. He was sorry to hear about Kuroh's father, but it sounded as if the other boy had an obsession or something. ". . . Yeah. That's not creepy." He muttered ironically.

"I have recordings for anything you can think of." The swordsman said, an enthusiastic aura surrounding him. "Go on. Choose one." He said, holding the box out to Shiro.

He gave him a weird look before complying and pushing a button at random.

"A false friend and a shadow attend, only when the sun shines."

Shiro stared at the tape recorder, not at all understanding what the meaning of that phrase was, but Kuroh had closed his eyes, contemplated, and nodded his head in agreement.

"Yes, yes. Very eloquent words."

The other boy laughed, slightly nervously. "Yeah. Not creepy at all."

The school festival was about a week away. At the moment, all of the students were scattered throughout the school making preparations. At first, Kuroh wasn't very interested in the festival, but when he saw how unorganized and slow everyone was, he had to intervene. After that, everything ran a lot smoother and definitely more quickly than before. The samurai was surprisingly good at this. He gave them a certain motivation and excitement that they had lacked before.

"Be careful with that box!" Kuroh said loudly at a passing classmate.

"What? Why? What's in it?" The boy asked as he almost tripped.

"Dynamite." Kuroh answered flatly.

The other student looked at him for a moment. Then he gave a nervous laugh. "Haha. Very funny. You made a joke." He said before continuing on.

The samurai followed him with his eyes. He had been joking . . . kinda. That box held fireworks.

"Hello, Kuroh!"

Said boy turned toward the voice, already annoyed and knowing exactly who it was that was greeting him. "Yashiro Isana."

Shiro was smiling like he always did. "Aw. Come on. I told you to call me 'Shiro.'"

Kuroh ignored this reminder. "What are you doing here? You should not be slacking off with the festival a week away."

"But I'm not slacking."

"Did you run that errand for the art club?"

"Yes sir." Shiro saluted, though Kuroh had the feeling that he was being teased.

"Fine. If you're done with that, go help Katagawa." He looked in the direction of a tall, blue structure made of wood. Katagawa, a slightly clumsy boy, had been tasked with building it. Everyone knew that he probably needed help seeing how he kept hitting his thumb with his hammer.

"Alright. If that's what you want me to do." Shiro said with a shrug. He began to walk over, his signature red parasol resting on his shoulder.

Kuroh had barely looked away before something went wrong. He heard creaks and snaps of wood before whirling his head around in the direction of the noises. It was coming from the place Shiro had just gone to. Katagawa. Of course it was him. He had accidently tipped the prop over, and now it was falling down. It was going to land on him. But then it wasn't as Shiro pushed him out of the way, a look of great determination on his face.

The swordsman immediately took action, his instincts taking over. In a flash, he was standing next to Shiro and with a swift movement, he pulled Shiro's body in so that it was flat against the front of his own. This made him easier to protect as Kuroh drew his wooden sword with the hand that wasn't holding the other boy to his chest. With several quick slashes through the air, Kuroh shattered the prop, knocking it aside. It fell into pieces around them as students in the surrounding area flocked to the site to see if they were alright.

Shiro blinked as he stood there, not really sure what had happened. Then he noticed the soft fabric that he was clutching. Looking up, Shiro came to see Kuroh, his face calm as he stood there, still holding his sword aloft. Looking at him like this, Shiro could finally see what Kuroh had referred to himself as. He could see the noble samurai. After a moment, Kuroh looked down and their eyes met. For some reason, Shiro's cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Are you alright?" Kuroh asked as he released him.

Shiro stared at him for a moment. "Uh, yes. Thank you."

Kuroh was now walking home from kendo, his sword at his side, when he sensed that someone was following him. Who would be out here in the middle of the night besides him?

Discreetly, he laid his hand on the hilt of his sword. Then, with barely any warning at all, he drew it and wheeled around at the stranger . . . only to stop short as he was met with a certain idiotic smile.

Shiro stood there, his parasol clutched in one of the hands that he was holding up in surrender. "Hi, Kuroh." He said weekly.

"Do not call me that!" Kuroh said irritably, still holding his sword to the other boy's throat. "What are you even doing here? I thought you had gone to visit your family this summer."

"I had." Shiro answered a little nervously. "But I came back because I thought I could get some studying done before the new term started." Kuroh looked at him for a little while longer before sighing and sheathing his sword. Shiro smiled more warmly and lowered his hands. "Sorry that I startled you. But could you have really hurt me with that wooden sword?"

". . . A samurai does not necessarily need a sword in order to kill his opponent. In any case, this sword is special. Do you have a problem with it?"

Shiro widened his eyes at Kuroh's challenging tone. "Oh, no not at all!" He said quickly. There was a short pause. "So, why are you dressed that way?"

The samurai narrowed his eyes more before he continued to walk down the sidewalk, Shiro trailing after him. "This is my kendo uniform."

"Ah. I see." The other teen said, holding his umbrella behind his back. "How long have you been practicing kendo?"

There was another slight pause. "Ever since my father adopted me when I was young."

". . . Oh . . . I'm sorry to hear he died by the way."

"It's fine." Kuroh said coolly. "He was an old man, and he was very ill before he passed away. That's why I came to this school. He was no longer there to teach me."

"I'm sorry!" Shiro said quickly. "I didn't mean to make you talk about him."

The swordsman simply shrugged. "It's alright . . . I do feel sad when I remember that he's dead, but I like talking about him. It brings back pleasant memories."

It was silent between them after that as they made their way to the school. The grounds were silent as they entered the building. As they approached the gates to enter the school, Kuroh pulled out his PDA. He was just about to scan it when he noticed that Shiro had disappeared.

He looked around, wondering where the white-haired boy had gone. Then he noticed him opening a door off to the side.

"What are you doing?"

Shiro looked around the door at him, a sheepish smile on his face. "I don't have my PDA with me, so I can't get in."

The samurai stared at him. What kind of idiot doesn't keep his PDA with him in this day and age?

"You didn't answer my question."

Shiro continued to smile. "When I don't have my PDA, I usually sneak in here."

" But . . . that's against the rules."

Shiro simply shrugged and slipped through the door. Kuroh had a moment of indecision, torn between his affinity to follow the rules and his sense of duty to make sure others followed them. In the end, he put his PDA in his pocket and followed Shiro.

When he finally caught up with the white-haired idiot, the other boy didn't say anything, just smiled and lead Kuroh through the unfamiliar parts of their school. Eventually they were surrounded by the sight of the boys' dormitories. Kuroh was astonished. This was a major breach in security.

As the samurai turned to enter his dorm, he was surprised to see Shiro trying to get into the one next to his. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean? I live here." Kuroh simply stared at him. "What? You didn't know that I lived next to you?"

The raven-haired boy looked away awkwardly before muttering "no."

Shiro continued to smile. "Well now you know." Then he opened his door and slipped inside. Just before the door closed, Kuroh heard a "goodnight neighbor."

Kuroh stared at his door, feeling slightly embarrassed. How had he not noticed that he lived next to Yashiro Isana?

Somewhere near the middle of the second semester, Kuroh began to like Shiro. Why did he suddenly feel this way? Well, Kuroh noticed that Shiro was intelligent with a kind and gentle disposition. He had a certain charisma about him and everyone couldn't help but like him. He was so caring and likeable, and yet he still seemed so lonely. He ate on the roof by himself and, sure he talked to other people, but he didn't have a specific group that he fit in or hung out with. He did seem to like Kuroh a lot though. He would stay and eat with him at lunch for a few minutes, whereas with everyone else, he just mooched off of them before leaving.

On one particular November morning, Kuroh had woken up as usual and gotten ready for his day. He had just gotten into his small kitchenette, trying to decide what to make for breakfast and then lunch. Just as he thought about what he could make that was healthy and Shiro would actually eat, he froze. That was when he realized it: this was absolutely ridiculous. Shiro never ate his vegetables unless they were forced upon him. What was the point of making a lunch for himself and then having Shiro stealing part of it, the part that he really didn't need. Kuroh decided that he would change that.

A few minutes later, Shiro groggily answered the knocking at his door. He was surprised to see a certain samurai.

"Kuroh?" He asked. Instead of answering, the other boy pushed his way into the room. Shiro blinked. "Yes, Kuroh, you may come in."

The swordsman immediately made his way to the kitchen. He scrutinized it, noticing the rice cooker in the corner. Then he looked through the cabinets.

"Do you not own any decent cooking supplies?"

Shiro blinked. "Um . . ."

When Kuroh found none, he looked up at the other boy sharply, a realization striking him. "You can't cook, can you?"

Shiro rubbed the back of his head guiltily. "You caught me. Wait, where are you . . . ?" He began to ask as Kuroh immediately walked out. He was only gone a few seconds before he came back, holding a suitcase. Shiro eyed it curiously as Kuroh placed it on the counter. Upon opening it, he revealed . . .

"Cooking supplies?" Shiro asked. "You keep cooking supplies . . . in a suitcase?"

"A good chef always comes prepared." Kuro said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

There was that dangerous tone again. "Uh. No." Shiro said quickly.

"Go change into your uniform." Kuroh ordered as he turned the stove on. "Breakfast should be ready by the time you're done."

Shiro blinked in surprise. Then, his usual smile appeared on his face. "Alright." He said, before he was gone. As Shiro changed into his uniform, he thought he could hear Kuroh talking to him from the kitchen. But then he realized that he wasn't talking to anyone at all.

"Why are you reciting cooking recipes?" Shiro asked as he peeked around the doorframe.

"Do not criticize my methods!" Kuroh said irritably.

"Oh no, I'm not criticizing. I can't even cook. But . . . reciting the recipe as you cook is a bit odd."

"I will kill you with this spatula!"

"Ok, ok! I'm sorry!" Shiro said hurriedly.

Kuroh seemed to consider his words. "I accept your apology." As he said this, he began to put some fish on a plate. "Now go set the table."

" . . . Ok." Shiro said, before getting bowls out of his cabinet. As he moved into his main room where a small coffee table was sitting, Shiro smiled to himself. Kuroh seemed a bit coarse on the outside, and maybe a little standoffish, but really, he was a nice person.

"He's been sitting like that for the past hour."

"His expression just looks so dreamy."

"Yeah. And look at what he's staring at."

They had a point. For a while now, Kuroh had been absently staring across the room at none other than Shiro.

"What's up with him?"

"Isn't it obvious? He likes Shiro."

"What? He's gay?!" There was a sigh. "It's always the good-looking ones."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hey! Where are you going?"

One of the boys extracted himself from the group and was headed over to Kuroh. Once he got there, he simply stood and pondered the swordsman, who was drumming a pencil on his leg as he leaned his chin on his hand.

"Sooooo . . . Kuroh. Do you imagine yourself as the little spoon or Shiro?" He asked bluntly.

"Hm?" Kuroh asked absently, turning his head to look at him. "Little spoon?"

Some of the other students from the group had gathered around, listening in.

"Yeah."

Kuroh thought about it. "Little spoon? Are we having soup?"

Some of the others sweat-dropped. Others just had their mouths hanging open.

". . . Oh my god . . . He's pure."

Kuroh cocked his head to the side and just looked at them confusedly.

"He doesn't get it."

"Excuse me, but . . . what are you talking about?"

One of the guys clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

Then, they left, and Kuroh felt very confused indeed.

Kuroh slashed, the sword in his hands flowing, feeling as if it were a part of his body. This sword, unlike the one he was usually forced to carry, was real. The poor, straw practice dummies didn't stand a chance. They fell to pieces at his feet as he tore them apart, debating with himself over something he had just learned.

Out of curiosity, he had looked up 'little spoon' on the internet after school. He wished he hadn't. Now there were images and scenarios in his mind that he would rather not be there.

Little spoon. They were referring to when couples "spooned" or cuddled back to front. And they were asking if Kuroh imagined him or Shiro as the little spoon. That was implying that Kuroh liked Shiro. Why would they think such a thing? They were both guys. Why would Kuroh be thinking of something like that? He was perfectly straight thank you. And anyway, there was no one he liked that way in the first place, let alone Shiro.

It's not like he looked forward to seeing him every day or liked to talk to him more than anyone else or liked the way he smiled . . . or thought it was cute when he saw him on the roof with a cat sitting on his chest . . . or cooked for him . . .

Kuroh fell to the ground, supporting himself with his hands and knees, his sensei wondering what the hell he was doing.

Oh my god. Was Kuroh . . . dare he say it? . . . gay?

No! That was impossible. He was a samurai, proud keeper of tradition and the ways of old. There was no way in hell he was gay. Right? His adoptive father had raised him that way. In fact, as proof of that . . . Kuroh looked down at the metal sword he clutched in his hand. His father had given that to him, and made the wooden one that he carried around religiously. After all that, could he have really fallen in love with a boy, and no less than Yashiro Isana?

. . . It's not like he wanted to be more than just friends.

"Yatogami-kun?" His sensei asked coming up to him, but Kuroh quickly whirled around and cut about ten practice dummies in half. His sensei scurried away.

Yes. That's exactly what it was. Every single one of those impossibilities was a reality.

"What are you doing, Yashiro Isana? Eat your vegetables!"

"Kuroh! I told you to call me 'Shiro!'" Kuro just continued to glare at him. Shiro sighed dramatically. "Alright, darling. If that's what you want."

"Time to kill you now." Kuro said, drawing his weapon. When he had first started making lunch for Shiro, a girl named Kukuri had walked up to them, surprised that Shiro actually had his own lunch (and it was healthy!), and she had asked where he had gotten it from. In response, Shiro had answered in a dreamy voice 'my new wife, Kuroh, made it for me!' Kuroh (for some reason his heart had skipped a beat, but he would never admit it) had immediately drawn his sword and threatened to kill the other boy if he said anything even remotely similar to that phrase ever again.

Unfazed, Shiro popped some zucchini into his mouth. "You know, I don't usually like vegetables, but yours actually taste good."

Kuroh stared at him for a minute before giving a 'hmph', sheathing his sword and sitting back down, cheeks slightly pink.

It was quiet for a minute as they ate their lunch. Then, something on a nearby TV screen caught Shiro's eye. "What's that?" He murmured.

Kuroh glanced up at him before looking at the screen himself. At first, he didn't know what he was looking at, but then, he saw the helicopters and the hunks of metal that obviously used to be cars. It was a major car wreck, and according to the caption, it had happened nearby.

"Give me your PDA!"

Kuroh blinked and looked at Shiro, who was standing up from his chair. He looked alarmed and whiter than usual.

"What—?"

"Just give it to me!"

Startled, the samurai handed over his device. Taking it, Shiro dialed a number and put it to his ear. Silence. After a while, Shiro limply dropped the hand holding the PDA to his side. Kuroh was about to ask what was wrong, when a voice sounded over the PA system.

"Yashiro Isana, please report to the office. Yashiro Isana."

Without a word, Shiro placed Kuroh's PDA on the table and walked away, uncharacteristically leaving his parasol behind and his friend thoroughly confused and worried.

Where is that idiot? Kuroh was now running through the streets, clutching a red parasol, his cloak whipping out behind him. It was getting dark and snow was falling down, peacefully reflecting the opposite of what the mood in the atmosphere was.

After Shiro hadn't come back to his dorm and it began to get dark, Kuroh couldn't just sit and worry anymore. So he had rushed out of the school, having a feeling that Shiro had left its grounds hours ago.

Kuroh's breath condensed into a cloud as he ran along, frantically searching for a certain moron. He had been searching for about an hour now, and was starting to lose hope that he would ever find Yashiro Isana.

And then . . . he saw him. He was sitting on a few stacked boxes leaning against the brick wall of a building. He was just sitting there, looking down at the hands clutched tightly in his lap. Kuroh slowed down and stood from afar, watching.

The swordsman made a brisk walk over to him. In an instant he was standing over his hunched form. Snow had piled on his head and shoulders, making him look very cold. After a moment, Shiro looked up at him, his expression breaking Kuroh's heart.

"Kuroh?" He croaked out.

Kuroh gently brushed the snow off of his head before sitting down next to him, taking off his coat and putting it around the other teen. Shiro protested slightly, but Kuroh ignored him as he opened the red parasol and placed the handle between them. It was silent after that, as the two of them just sat there, not saying a word. Kuroh wasn't even sure what to say, he really didn't have a clue what was going on.

"What are you doing here, Kuroh?" Shiro asked softly.

"Looking for you." Shiro didn't answer. "What happened?" Kuroh asked.

It was quiet for a long time, and Kuroh wasn't sure that he would get an answer. But then Shiro spoke. "That crash, on the news, my parents were in it."

Kuroh's eyes widened. "Are they . . . ?" Shiro nodded stiffly. "I'm sorry."

Shiro just shook his head. "I had a feeling that they were when I saw it on the news. I knew that they were coming into town to visit for the holidays. At first, I was going to visit them, but I convinced them to come here. I wanted them to see my friends, my school. I wanted them to . . . and then they died. They died and it's all my fault. I killed them. I'm such a horrible person." Throughout the whole, Shiro didn't shed a tear, but he was shaking violently, both from cold and grief. Kuroh could relate to some degree. They were both orphans now.

Kuroh sat quietly for a moment. Then, after some thought, entwined his fingers through Shiro's ice-cold ones. "No, you're not." He said as Shiro's eyes widened at the show of affection. "I have known you for the past year, Yashiro Isana, and I know that you are not a killer. How could you be? You feed stray cats and walk around school like a clueless idiot mooching off of other people for food. If you're parents really loved you, then they would tell you that this wasn't your fault either."

"But—."

Suddenly, the raven-haired boy pulled Shiro's head onto his shoulder. "No. I won't hear of it. You are no murderer, Shiro!"

Shiro was silent after that, but he kept his head on Kuroh's shoulder and their fingers intertwined. Kuroh could feel him crying in silence as he gripped his hand tightly. They sat there for what seemed like forever, until Kuroh finally suggested that they go back. Shiro simply nodded and, as they stood up, the jacket fell off and the umbrella tumbled to the ground. Kuroh picked them both up and placed his coat around Shiro once more.

Shiro gave a small smile before grabbing the samurai's hand again. "Thank you, Kuroh."

Kuroh couldn't help but blush slightly. He really did love Shiro. He had finally realized that it was ok to love him. Recently, he had found a quote from his father: 'Love and do what you will.' As long as he loved and acted upon that love in his actions, then whatever he did wouldn't be in the wrong. He took his love for Shiro and his love for his father into consideration as he did what he was doing right now.

And so, the two of them walked through the snow-covered streets, hand in hand, the red parasol bobbing above them.

A/N: What did you think? I thought it wasn't half bad considering. I mostly wrote this because I ship Kuroh x Shiro, obviously, and when I went on this site to look for some fanfitction based on it, I found none. T-T So I decided to be the first. There's a quote by someone (not sure who) that says something like if there's a book you want to read and it isn't out there, write it yourself. I practically live by that as a writer. Please review, favorite, etc.

Disclaimer: I do not own "K," any of its characters or plot, or the quotes I use. But this shit is mine!