Written for Kuro Week, Day 3 - Reflection/Mirror.
This one was only finished this morning, and I haven't even a start on tomorrow's prompt yet (though I do have a plot waiting) so here goes. . .
Shiro twitched every time a noise filtered through the sealed door from the corridor beyond, his heartrate jumping. The door never opened, though, and the longer the waiting dragged on, the tauter his nerves pulled.
He paced to the door every so often and stood there, listening, but he could make out no more from there than he could from anywhere in the cell. Only the corridor outside, which offered nothing helpful. No one who passed by even paused near his door.
The only way anyone in the cells knew details of what happened in the arena is if they were dragged there themselves, or when their cellmates had been and were returned.
Shiro closed his eyes and hoped desperately that his cellmate would be returned again.
Kuro was an impressive fighter, but the Galra arena was . . . hellish.
And when they had come for him today, Kuro had still borne the bloody evidence of Haggar's last . . . session with him, and half a chest full of bruised and cracked ribs that made moving with much speed not only painful but difficult.
Folded on the floor against the back wall, Shiro worried his lip between his teeth and watched the door, listening. Praying that Kuro was safe, though he knew to hope that Kuro would return to him meant hoping that others would die at his hands. They would have to, for Kuro to be victorious - for him to survive.
Shiro hurt for that truth, but he couldn't do other than hope for Kuro to be safe.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the corridor again, this time with an unsteady counterpoint. Shiro stiffened, then rose. The door opened, and a soldier slipped inside, dragging Kuro's much smaller figure along with him, then pushing him away.
Kuro staggered, claws scraping against the wall as he reached out to steady himself, and the soldiers retreated, the door sealing them inside and alone. Shiro hurried to Kuro's side as he slid down to sit on the benchlike bunk at one side of their cell.
"Kuro?" Shiro cupped Kuro's jaw, blood dripping into his palm as he tilted Kuro's head up to look into the mirror of his own face, bloodied and a bit bruised but whole. "Are you all right?" he smoothed his free hand over Kuro's shoulder and looked down his body, his battered state easily visible through his damaged clothes.
"I won." Kuro said simply, his chest barely moving with the careful, shallow breaths he took. His lips tilted into a crooked smile Shiro didn't think had ever graced his own. "I'm whole, Shiro."
"What else can we ask for?" Shiro sighed, taking a seat on the bunk by Kuro's knees. He gently combed Kuro's hair back. It was sweaty and streaked in a few places with blood, both his own and a dull blue.
"Little else, at least not if we hope to get it." Kuro said dryly, tipping his face into Shiro's light touch, eyes slipping closed. With his eyes closed, and only a softer smile curving his lips, Shiro truly could have been looking into his own face.
He gently wiped away the blood, inspecting the gash it had come from - rough at the edges, it was a rip more than a cut, but small; it probably wouldn't even scar - and the bruise beneath, over the top of Kuro's cheekbone and disappearing into his hairline. It was a dull red, but already fading into purples and blues.
"What hit you?" Shiro asked, pressing his thumb delicately at the edges of the bruise.
Kuro hissed, expression creasing. It had to have hit hard, but there was no damage to the bones beneath, so also not nearly so hard as it could have. Shiro was grateful for that, but curious. "Lost track." Kuro said, lashes fluttering as he looked up at Shiro. "Might have been the new robot."
"New robot." Shiro repeated, then sighed, leaning his brow gently against Kuro's. "Of course."
"Mostly broken now." Kuro said quietly, with a soft hum as he leaned closer to Shiro. He must be hurting, Shiro realised, if he was seeking comfort this way without appearing even to notice. "They'll fix it up. Probably you'll have to face it next." he added, opening his eyes.
"Shouganai." Shiro said with a weak smile, pulling away. Kuro looked sad, and Shiro rubbed his thumb over Kuro's cheek.
"As with everything here." Kuro said, jaw clenching as he looked away.
Shiro gently nudged him to look back, and his eyes were full of frustrated anger and sadness. "But here we still are, both of us. Whole, or mostly." Shiro said softly, not optimistic but not hopeless, either.
Kuro sighed, a muscle in his jaw twitching, though he didn't actually argue. Shiro stroked his cheek again, then leaned in and kissed him softly, an impulsive gesture, though giving in to it didn't feel like a sudden impulse. Kuro startled, but Shiro's lips were barely brushing his now, he could pull away easily without straining his ribs or other injuries.
Instead he caught Shiro's hand, fingers sliding between his own in a familiar slide, and returned the kiss with a rough sob catching in his throat.
Golden eyes met his own, then closed as Shiro watched the tense, distressed expression on so nearly his own face soften away. He tentatively tipped his head and slid closer, legs brushing Kuro's knees, trying not to think about how strange this was even as Kuro's sharp teeth lightly pricked his lip.
It was strange, but it was also not, and Shiro felt the same desire to cling to Kuro that he felt in the way Kuro's fingers tightened through his, hand clasping tight to his shoulder. He nuzzled delicately closer, deepening the kiss, and a soft rumble rose in Kuro's throat, making Shiro's mouth tingle.
He smiled, with a little huff of a laugh, and Kuro nuzzled him back, even as the kiss broke in what should have been an awkward sideways slide. Shiro opened his eyes, meeting Kuro's bright ones, and found him almost grinning at Shiro, a little crooked.
"Here we are." Kuro agreed, so much happier than he had been when Shiro had said so moments before. "Together, at least." he added softly.
A cold pang of anxiety shot through Shiro, but he nodded, trying to keep the smile on his own face. "At least we have that much." he replied, just as softly, keeping their words just between them. Shiro hoped . . . they would always have that much.
Kuro shifted to put his back against the wall, wincing as he moved, and Shiro reached to support him, only to be drawn close instead. He put his shoulder to Kuro's and mirrored the careful, but comfortable slouch, folding his fingers between Kuro's rather than releasing his hand once they settled together.
'Shouganai' is a fairly common Japanese phrase, which means 'it can't be helped', used when something occurs that is out of one's control - there's nothing to be done about it.
Chapter two of this is a silly little coda of a 'what could have happened' that didn't fit this story (obviously) but amused me enough to want to jot it down and share it.