To Save this Goddamn Town (10)
During the first winter on the run, they almost starve to death.
It was a bitter irony. That though they knew twenty-one ways to kill a man, they did not know which berries could be eaten, how to catch fish or skin game or keep warm in the dark.
That despite all the beatings and drug trials and endless endless tests, it would be freedom they could not survive.
"Do you think it'll hurt?" Kise said, back pressed to a withered tree. The grass around them had blackened with frost, suffocating under the air's cold weight.
Next to him, Midorima's eyes were closed-his sunken face bone-white.
"It might."
Silence.
"Oh," Kise said, looking up at the clouds, "I don't know how to die."
Aomine let out an empty chuckle. He sat on the trail, too exhausted to even crawl out of the wind's path, while Murasakibara lay on his side a few feet away, unmoving. Every so often, small wisps of his breath escaped into the air.
"The hell are you talking about?" Aomine rasped, "It's not hard to die.
On instinct, Kuroko lifted his head to snap at him, to deny death even as he saw it looming in the space around them. But he was tired too and they were all sick of lies, and so he let the words—all of them—expire in his throat.
Even the ones that kept saying it didn't have to end here.
The only food in winter lay in the cellars and villas of nobles. Caches with fragile locks and guards who drank too much. Fat aristocrats who'd never seen a drop of blood in their lives.
It would have been so, so easy.
Kuroko silenced the thought, even though he knew it would be back. Even though it had wormed its way into all their heads a while ago, running again and again in a crazed loop. It caused an ache to form in Kuroko's chest, something akin to disappointment.
In a way, he supposed he had expected that part of them to be another construct of Teikou's—a cruelty forced into being, one they could leave behind in the walls of that old crumbling kingdom.
Strange, how foolish that sounded to him now. Guilt and blood and monsters didn't just disappear by closing one's eyes. Nothing was changed by being sorry.
Perhaps, it did have to end here after all.
Perhaps, this was only what was due.
I don't know how to die.
"We are not dying."
Akashi stood, his fiery hair and eyes shadowed by the sun filtering through the branches. Hunger had carved its way into him as well, but his back was held straight and tall, his voice cut from steel.
He looked at them, gaze sweeping across like a wave. He looked at Kuroko.
"I'm going to that village," he said, very simply.
And then he was gone before Kuroko could ask why…
The headman's house was a large and handsome affair, made from fine timber beams and chiseled stone. It had two floors and a terrace out front similar to the shop's, minus the odds and ends of Midorima's lucky items or Murasakibara's equipment.
There were no decorations, no flowers or plants. In fact, if not for the weeded yard and the dusted windows, no one could've guessed anyone lived here at all.
As if to match the building's outer appearance, the rooms inside were all pretty much undecorated too, consisting mainly of a modest, almost untouched kitchen area, a more decent-sized sitting room and one spotless bathroom.
There was nothing much in the way of furniture either, save for a smattering of basic items like chairs and tables. The air was almost sterile and smelled of polish and wood. It was an imposing, impersonal place, not unlike its owner, and Kuroko could not blame Watabe for his clear discomfort as his eyes darted about.
"I think I understand," he said to the older man, offering a smile, "So you lived on the leeward side of Kiseki Mountain. It's no wonder Aomine-kun found you and Hiro-kun."
"Y-Yes, after the Emperor put out that food tariff, we were having trouble putting enough on the table. I thought I could maybe find something up here. B-But the forest was so thick and dark. I…I didn't know there were sentinels up here either. If Aomine-kun hadn't brought us to this town, we wouldn't have lasted the night."
As the man spoke, Kuroko's eyes slid to his left, observing Akashi. Although the redhead was near expressionless, Kuroko let out an inward sigh as he caught the slightest downward tug of his lips.
Akashi had never wanted to form a town, or even stay in the mountain for so long. He was still convinced they needed to keep running—as hard and fast and as far as they could—that there was no such place as "safe" or "home." Sometimes, Kuroko wondered if he didn't prefer they vanish from this plane entirely.
"Well, thank you for explaining the situation," he said, standing, "We'll think of something to help your people. In the meantime, the Zone Ceremony is tonight isn't it? You should go enjoy yourself and not worry for now. I'm sure the Seirin members will be attending too."
Watabe's eyes widened and he grabbed Kuroko's arm as they walked toward the front door.
"Seirin! They're known for fighting the sentinels right? M-Maybe you can ask them to—"
"No."
Akashi was suddenly next to them. Kuroko's eyes narrowed as he steadied Watabe, who jumped.
"B-But if they're willing to act as escorts, my entire village could get through the mountain."
"Perhaps," Akashi said honestly, "But there's too much risk involved."
Watabe's eyes widened. "Risk? You would leave all those people to—you can't—"
His words broke off when Akashi turned to him, gaze bright as wildfire.
"I can. If there is even the slightest chance that the Teikou will take interest, I assure you, I am capable of anything."
Watabe paled. Kuroko pushed him forward before he could respond.
"Your son is probably looking for you, Watabe-san. Please enjoy the ceremony," he said, blocking Akashi from view as best he could, "We will speak again. I promise."
He slid the door shut without waiting for a reply, staring at the wood until he heard Watabe's footsteps reluctantly move away.
"That was unnecessary."
Kuroko turned. Akashi stood where he'd been halted, his hands tucked into his billowing sleeves.
"I don't think it was. Normal people can only handle so much of you at a time."
Akashi stared at him. "I meant promising to speak about this again. Moving an entire village in is barely feasible, let alone logical. I've humored you with this meeting, but my decision stands."
"You haven't even heard my idea yet."
"Hn," Akashi's eyes narrowed, "I don't need to. We were lucky enough that the sentinels Seirin encountered were destroyed before they could send feed to the empire. Things will not go so well next time."
"And what if I guaranteed they wouldn't be seen?"
A single crimson brow rose.
At the unspoken question, Kuroko explained, "Watabe-san said his village has about thirty people. That's far less than the amount I usually cover. I can climb down and lead everyone back to Kiseki without trouble from the sentinels."
Akashi blinked once, slowly. "So you are suggesting I let you return to Teikou lands?"
You can't stop me, was at the tip of Kuroko's tongue, but he bit it back with some force. The effort was a largely pointless one, as Akashi chuckled a second later.
"I don't need to be able to read you to tell what you're thinking right now," he said, with a note of resignation, "You are correct. I can't stop you. I've never been able to."
His face darkened.
"But that doesn't apply to the others."
The whole room seemed to cool by degrees. Kuroko's expression remained calm, even as his fists subtly clenched. The chasm between them began to open again, the stubbornness in both of them flaring up like an old wound.
"Akashi-kun—"
"You don't understand the mountain well enough to navigate all those people through," he said, stated like the fact that it was, "You'll need one of the others to go with you and I'm afraid that's not happening."
Silence.
"I'd prefer you let them decide for themselves."
Akashi smiled. "Why? My orders are absolute and they will obey me in the end. It doesn't matter what they decide. You know that."
His right eye flickered—a hint of gold appearing that set the alarms off in Kuroko's head. Like usual, he ignored them. There wasn't any part of Akashi that frightened him. Not even the parts that really should have.
"I know you promised never to use it against them."
The smile faded. Akashi's shoulders twitched, as if he'd felt the words sink right through his skin like a blade. A silent beat passed as they stared at each other, before his eye faded back to a tired red.
"I promised. Not…" he frowned, sighing, "You haven't accepted it yet. This is the way it has to be."
Kuroko's eyebrows furrowed. The hint of patronization, no matter how unintentional, grated on his nerves.
"It doesn't," he said, curt, "It wouldn't be if you'd just listen to me for once."
Akashi blinked, eyes narrowing, "Me? All I've done these past five years is listen to you. I agreed to this town and these people, did I not? I let in every single person Aomine ever found in the mountain, even with sentinels only a breath away. I agreed to shops and radio lines and that pointless ceremony. Everything, because you wanted me to. How are you not satisfied?"
"Because you still won't see it," Kuroko said, fists white as frustration began coloring his tone, "Kiseki is blatant proof that we can change things."
Akashi sighed and shook his head.
"Not this again," It was an old song and dance that they were both quite sick of. "You think too simply."
"This is why we're here," Kuroko pressed, "This is what people believe in us for."
"It's just a story."
"Shirogane-san didn't think so."
They both froze. Akashi's eyes narrowed in warning.
"You are testing me today. If we are found—"
"Then we'll fight back! We can't spend our whole lives being afraid—"
Akashi closed the distance between them within seconds. Kuroko flinched at the sudden proximity, almost tripping before an icy hand grabbed his wrist and tugged him up.
"No," Akashi whispered, eyes wide, enough that Kuroko could see every brilliant speck of color, "If they find us, we'll either be dead or wish we were."
His hand clenched, nails digging into Kuroko's soft skin.
"I told you a long time ago. We are not dying. Not then, not now and not here," he whispered, breath hot as flames, "We'll run again if we have to. Further than before. Across the sea, the sky, until no one can catch even the ends of our shadows. Until every soul has forgotten our names."
"I don't accept that," Kuroko snapped, wincing as he tried to yank his hand back in vain. Akashi's hold was near-crushing. "It…It isn't right to—"
"We don't owe anyone anything," Akashi hissed, impatience evident for the first time, "Let go of this illusion. We were young and didn't know what we were. They used us. There's no reason to feel guilty or responsible, because it wasn't our fault."
Blood-red eyes flickered with gold again. Akashi looked like he wanted to shake the sense into him.
"The world was always going to break, Kuroko," he said, "Who ended up doing it makes no difference."
The pressure was overwhelming. Kuroko squeezed his eyes shut, a tiny pained whisper slipping through his lips.
"...you're hurting me…"
Akashi stilled. Kuroko opened his eyes, catching the shadow in his expression scatter. The gold in his eye receding, vanishing, replaced by shock so intense it was like it had never been there. His hand was dropped a second later.
"I…" Akashi backed away, face pale, "That wasn't…"
"I know."
Kuroko cradled his wrist, the area aching and faintly bruised. He looked Akashi in the eye.
"It's okay."
The remains of the Emperor's sentinels had congealed into a mess of scrap metal and frayed wires. Almost every single unit had been drilled by guns, the burnt outlines of each hole telling of an iron bullet. Lubricant had blackened the grass beneath where they were stacked, all splayed limbs and lidless eyes, displayed like a message from a cruel warlord.
Kise whistled, a hand shadowing his eyes as he leaned forward on the branch.
"Is that the pile Seirin took out? Holy shit. And you still think they don't know what they're doing, Aominecchi?"
Instead of replying, Aomine just crossed his arms, back against the trunk. Something like bemusement flickered in his indigo eyes.
"Neeee, can we go back now?" Murasakibara called from below, "I'm hungry."
"We should be on our way," Midorima agreed, standing stiffly next to Kise as he raised his glasses. His glowing eyes shifted in an arc from left to right as he scanned the area. "I don't see any more sentinels and we've covered the entire perimeter."
"Huh? Already?" Kise swiveled his head around as if he could actually measure the distance that way, "Whoa, it use to take hours to finish a sweep this big."
"It's only natural. We were sixteen the last time all four of us came out here."
They went silent, the memory unreeling before them. (The night had been a wet and dense one. They'd crept through the brush, animal-like, soaked in mud and dizzy on adrenaline. Searchlights blinked in the fog, men shouted, the smell of terror and blood in the forest as they killed and killed and killed)
Aomine scoffed, looking away.
"Who cares how long it took. At least we were careful. Don't they know sentinels have camera feeds attached? How could they leave all this here?"
"Aominecchi," Kise shook his head, "They were running for their lives. Stop being petty."
While Aomine glared at him, Midorima frowned from the other side. "Why are you acting like this, Aomine? You were the one risking life and limb to save them."
Before he was answered, Kise helpfully supplied again, "Well, Kurokocchi might have had a thing or two to do with it."
"Oi!"
"What? It's true isn't it?"
Midorima blinked. "…Kuroko?"
Faint comprehension dawned on him a second later. As strange and meaningless as it was, Aomine's feelings toward Kuroko had been no secret.
"That explains it at least," he said, "I always wondered why you searched for stranded people up here so actively. Not that it's my concern, but I doubt this is an effective method to impress him."
Something flickered in Aomine's eye.
"It…It wasn't about impressing—"
"Like you would know anything about how to impress someone, Midorimacchi," Kise said, snorting, "I swear I get ulcers just watching you and Takaocchi sometimes."
Midorima's gaze switched to the blonde. "...What are you talking about? Takao and I just work together."
Kise gave him a tragic look and flapped his hand. It was his typical nonsense and Midorima rolled his eyes, despite the small and weird curiosity that lingered. Before he could pursue it however, there was a sudden "thwump" that made the whole branch rock.
Leaves showered down over a blinking Aomine and Midorima, while Kise yelped, grabbing onto the trunk for stability.
"M-Murasakibaracchi! What are you doing?!"
The giant crouched down, hands resting on his knees, "Weeell, you guys were taking too long. I wanna know what you're talking about."
Despite his massive frame, he perched easily on the branch, the shade of the canopy casting a violet glint to his eyes. The limb quivered however and there was the distinct and ominous sound of creaking wood. Kise flailed again, grabbing onto Midorima's shoulder for extra balance.
Aomine sighed.
"We were just comin'," he said, giving Murasakibara a bland look, "Get your big ass down before you break the branch."
"It'll hold," Murasakibara drawled, not looking the least concerned, "I'm not that heavy."
"I think all our necks are about to tell you otherwise."
"Ehh, Mine-chin is so delicate," Murasakibara said, grinning lazily as Aomine sputtered, "Besides, you wanted to check the glade right? Shouldn't we do that before Kuro-chin's Overflow begins?"
At the words, all three of them paused.
"His barrier isn't even working," Midorima said, trying to steady himself while Kise clung to him, "Overflow can't be in effect."
Murasakibara tilted his head. "Hmm, I think it is though."
With a long arm, he gestured up towards the mountaintop. The other three turned, staring blankly for a minute before their eyes widened.
Directly over the peak, something like a black ripple had formed in the air, stretching beyond the edges of their vision. The horizontal line it created was spindly and jagged, almost like a crack in the sky, and it flickered like a flame.
For a second or two, it simply wavered in place, before beginning to move, grazing over the crags of the mountain like a giant scanner. They watched as it travelled steadily down the slope and through the first few clumps of trees. Footprints and snapped branches cleared as it passed, the torn-up areas of the earth smoothing into flat ground again.
The pile of broken sentinels vanished as if it never were, leaving the grass green and sparkling.
Midorima's jaw tightened. Misdirection Overflow.
"Shit," Aomine muttered and straightened. With effortless grace, he flipped off the branch and landed on the ground, barely stirring the dust.
"You guys hurry up!" he called over his shoulder.
"Ah, wait! You haven't even told us what's going on yet!" Kise yelled, following suit.
Midorima sighed, skating down the trunk's side. The Overflow ripple was even larger from the ground, a gleaming blackness in the distance. He couldn't understand why it was there.
Murasakibara landed behind him, having simply jumped.
"Mido-chin, does this mean Kuro-chin's broken?"
The thought of that was near laughable. Midorima shook his head, turning to where Aomine and Kise had already vanished.
"Someone like him would never break so easily."
Kuroko leaned back against Akashi's chair, gaze on the ceiling. The Ceremony was about to begin and the great fire's light had flooded in through the window, dancing along the walls and paneling of the dark room.
Outside, he could hear the crackling of wood being tossed into the pile, the humming of voices as people gathered in the square. Almost inevitably, Kuroko's thoughts strayed to Kagami, if he was there already and how he perceived it all. Maybe he was looking for him.
He's probably more interested in the food though. A small smile curved on Kuroko's lips and his eyes softened. Despite Seirin's altruistic reputation, he'd been genuinely surprised when Kagami had turned to shield him that night, teeth clenched and eyes wide, as if he were fully ready to die in one of the most excruciating ways that existed for the sake of a total stranger.
For someone who did not deserve to be saved anyway.
Kuroko's smile faded and he looked down at his right arm, the one Kagami had taken when the B unit appeared in the glade. Akashi had left bruises across the wrist, a ring of purpling marks signaling burst vessels and loss of control.
He prodded it for a moment, marveling at the contrast with his ghost-white skin. Then he cupped his free hand, closed his eyes and beckoned. The familiar chill appeared within seconds, like a slumbering beast rising from the depths. It floated through his veins, seeping up and out of his pores.
Kuroko opened his eyes again, hand now covered in the black ripples of Overflow.
Lifting it, he gave a quick wave over his wrist, watching the bruises vanish and the dull ache fade into nothing. After rotating it a few times, Kuroko stood and turned toward the stairs.
He found Akashi in his room, one of the smallest in the entire house. Bookshelves lined the walls from end to end and the scent of fresh parchment lingered in the air. Akashi stood at the long window, back facing the door.
"You're still here," he said quietly.
Kuroko walked in, shuffling up next to him, "Why wouldn't I be? I told you it was okay. Look."
Akashi's eyes shifted slightly, peering down. When he saw the healed wrist, he turned fully, hand sliding beneath Kuroko's smaller one to hold it up.
"…You used Overflow again."
"Yes," Kuroko said, trying for a weak smile, "Unfortunately, instant regeneration is an ability I was excluded from."
Akashi didn't smile back.
"You could overexert yourself."
Ordinarily, such a comment would have lit Kuroko's temper again, if he hadn't noticed how pale Akashi had become. The gold in his eyes was gone without a trace and his brows had furrowed, remorse whispering in every line.
Kuroko breathed out, turning his hand so he could intertwine his fingers around Akashi's, holding tight when they jolted.
"I'm not so fragile," he said, tone firm, "And I know my limits. I've been using Overflow on the mountain for years, haven't I?"
It was a fair point and Kuroko saw the heaviness of Akashi's shoulders lighten slightly.
"I wish you didn't do that as well."
Kuroko shook his head, pulling them down to sit on the bed. "It gives you peace of mind," he said, "Plus, whenever Aomine-kun gets caught in it, he gets a free cleaning. It's like killing two birds with one stone."
At this, Akashi finally cracked a smile. Kuroko took a moment to cherish it before it inevitably faded away.
"Aomine saved those Seirin members because you asked him to."
Kuroko folded his hands in his lap, watching the silhouettes outside mingle and dance. It occurred to him that most, if not all of them, were there because of Aomine.
"Maybe," he said, smiling, "I did ask him but…I think Aomine-kun had reasons of his own."
Akashi didn't reply to that. They were quiet for a moment before he spoke again, changing the subject. "He still has feelings for you."
Kuroko kept his eyes on the window. "I know."
"…Perhaps it's better if…"
He turned around, meeting Akashi's crimson gaze. "No, I can't lie to him like that. He isn't…it would not be what he wants. What I want."
"I can't give you what you want either," Akashi said softly.
The air stilled between them. Kuroko could feel the words launch themselves into his chest, seeking out every vulnerable area that had not already hardened with expectation. The memory of Momoi at sunset flashed across his mind and he thought of how ironic it was, for someone who broke so many hearts to have his own broken repeatedly in turn.
"I…" he swallowed, "…I'm aware. You have made it abundantly clear over the years."
Akashi said nothing and in a rare moment, looked away first. Kuroko didn't know if he imagined the instant of hesitation in his eyes or not. Five years of waiting could waver even the most stubborn of certainties.
"You can ask the others to go with you."
Kuroko blinked.
Before he could think to respond however, Akashi gave a deep sigh.
"To Watabe-san's village. If you explain fully and they agree, then I won't stop you."
Kuroko stared, not sure if he even heard correctly.
"Thank you…" he still thought to say after a moment.
"Don't thank me for sending you on your death march," Akashi said simply, crossing his arms with a tired expression, "Also if you insist on this, there's something I want you to do."
Quickly, Kuroko nodded. "Of course."
Akashi paused for a moment, as if trying to find the proper words.
"I want you to bring back all of them," he said, lips pursing when Kuroko's eyes widened, "Don't worry about the space. I won't have Watabe-san at my door again because you failed to keep track of someone. Perfection is expected."
Kuroko nodded again, warm pooling in his stomach.
"I will," he said, "Thank you. I promise to make it up to you."
Akashi made a dismissive noise. "Unless you plan on changing your mind, I doubt it."
"Not even a kiss?"
Two red eyes swiveled back to him. Kuroko blinked, expression blank and wholesomely innocent. The wry light in Akashi's expression spoke volumes.
"Who do you think I am? Kise? I can't just—"
Kuroko didn't let him finish. Leaning forward, he wrapped his hands over Akashi's shoulders and pressed their lips together. He could feel Akashi stiffen beneath him, taste his shock through the touch of their skin.
It lasted all of it second before Akashi was kissing back.
Cool, smooth hands reached up to cradle the sides of Kuroko's face. A gentle tongue grazed the crease of his mouth, beckoning entry. It intertwined with Kuroko's own when he parted his lips, wrapping tight like the closing of a rose. Akashi tasted like snow and fire, he smelled of tea leaves and sorrow.
When they parted at last they were both gasping. Heat bloomed thick across the surface of Kuroko's face.
"I guess this means you can," he whispered, neither receiving an answer nor expecting one. Though his legs had suddenly lost all feeling, he tried to stand. "Well, shall I be off then…?"
Akashi pulled him back down.
"Stay the night," he said, in a voice that brooked no argument.
Kuroko nodded, obedient for once. "Okay."
They were falling back onto the bed before he'd even finished speaking. Akashi's fingers slid over the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with mind-boggling grace. The dim lantern light of the room shadowed Akashi's face as it hovered over his.
Only when the great fire outside swelled did Kuroko catch the profile of Akashi's features, the rings of light in his eyes and the sweep of his crimson hair. Mibuchi's voice exclaimed from somewhere in the distance.
"The Generation of Miracles."
Akashi's mouth thinned into a bloodless line. Kuroko looked up with large, staring eyes.
"Interesting name they gave us."
"We can't be what they want," Akashi replied, almost to himself, "I can't be what you want."
There was a pause. Then Kuroko reached up, hooking his hands around the curve of Akashi's neck.
"You don't have to be," he whispered, "Just give me anything you have…"
…Anything that's left.
Bemused red eyes observed him and for a moment, Kuroko wondered if they saw a fool.
Then those lips, in all their alien beauty, were descending to greet his own.
…Akashi came back at sundown.
There were bundles of food under both of his arms, wrapped tight in twine and cloth. Meat and fruits and loaves of bread.
He was soaked in blood up to his elbows.
Akashi placed the packages on the frosted ground. He met his pallid gaze.
"Do you find me cruel, Kuroko?"
In hindsight, he had never ended up answering.
Though he supposed that in itself was answer enough.