To Save this Goddamn Town (10)
They attacked Kaijou in the spring.
Akashi arranged them into a basic formation with Daiki and Murasakibara on the ground while Kise and Midorima moved as snipers. The objective was to take out the main outposts, leaving Kaijo's outer areas vulnerable to invasion. It was a simple plan with brutal efficiency—Akashi's usual style.
They rolled out a map in the grass, the edges peeling and yellow, the kingdoms pieced together like a mismatched quilt. Teikou was a small dot painted black in the north. Daiki imagined its reach extending out, black tendrils spreading disease through the lands.
"Enter here," Akashi said, pointing to the coastline, "Minimize casualties if you can, but I want you back by tonight. Failure will not be tolerated."
It was the only farewell they got from him.
Kaijou smelled of the sea, the salty breeze sweeping inland in cool waves. Wildflowers and sweet grass adorned the hillsides. The people in the village were distant, undefined shapes, moving from place to place.
"So small," Murasakibara said.
He was leaning over the bluff, his huge body bent forward. The tilt of his head caused violet hair to fall over his eyes—a shade brighter than usual with curiosity. His teeth grinded against the end of a lollipop stick, scraping and sucking.
He looked alien. Like the air and water and grass wouldn't hold him. Like his palms could come down and crush the land flat. It wasn't that far off, Daiki supposed. He probably looked the same. None of them belonged here.
"Come on," he muttered, turning away.
Kaijou smelled of the sea—a scent mixed well with sand and softness and steel. The sun was warm, the air clean. Something breathlessly cold kept Daiki's gaze down. He didn't look, even though he should have.
Because come afternoon, there wasn't much to look at anymore.
Daiki coughed, a wet hissing noise trapped in his throat, as dried blood flaked off black from his cheek. He'd slashed a Kaijou soldier across the belly, having no idea the guts would go spurting out like a hose. Or that a disemboweled man could live long enough to stare him straight in the eyes.
"God," the soldier had rasped, "What are you?"
There'd been such horror in the question. And pity.
"Hell if I know."
Murasakibara's shadow casted over him. "Stop talking, Mine-chin."
With a surgeon's delicacy, the giant lifted up another stone beam. It was slow-going, digging him out, and the heap that had fallen on him was piled under additional rubble. Already, Daiki could feel his bones twist and shift, trying to knit back together but having no room to maneuver. It fucking hurt.
"You couldn't have just sent them flying or something," he said, teeth gritted, "You HAD to level the whole damn place."
"I told you not to stand so close," Murasakibara whined, "And besides, why didn't you get away?"
As if he was suppose to be able to "get away" from the earth cracking beneath him. Before he could form the scathing retort however, the pillar trapping his leg rolled the wrong way. Daiki's mouth parted, but he didn't recall if he screamed or not before his vision curled and darkened.
Distorted images of the past few hours staggered before him. He saw the dark crack in the earth as it had split and Murasakibara's eyes, wild and helpless, as mortar and stone crumbled and fell like toy blocks.
It'd been so loud, as if the whole sky was coming down. Men screamed and swore, dropping their weapons. They ran, blindly, and then were crushed minutes later. No one could escape Murasakibara. He was a mountain of unmolded power—a weapon yet to be claimed. Teikou would never let him, or any of them, go.
The pictures before Daiki swirled and bled out. A voice echoed in the dark, cold and thin.
There is only one thing you will ever need to know about what you are, Sanada Naoto's face appeared, his eyes pinpricks of hungry light behind the glint of his glasses. You belong to Teikou, child. This is your purpose and your place and the sooner you come to accept it, the more at peace you will be.
Black mirth filled Daiki.
Peace his ass. He'd followed orders and heeded instruction. He'd done what they wanted, killed who they wanted, and he wasn't at peace. Seeing the faces of dead people every single night did not seem like fucking peace to him.
Damn it…DAMN IT…
The crushing pressure lifted. A heavy but gentle hand curled around his shoulder, sitting him up with ease. Daiki blinked and the world flooded back. Murasakibara was staring down at him, a hint of startled concern on his brow.
"Mine-chin?"
Daiki planted a hand on the ground, feeling his body's many fractures melding back into place even as he pushed Murasakibara away.
"Let go."
Hesitation crossed Murasakibara's face, though he did release him, long solid fingers relinquishing their grip on his shoulder. Daiki sat up fully, running a hand through his dusty hair and assessing the damage. His clothes were beyond salvation, stained with dirt and blood and who knows what else. Daiki swore. He was definitely going to get beat for this.
"Are you okay?" Murasakibara whispered.
No.
His busted lip sealed in a ream of white smoke. Daiki wiped blood from his chin. "Fine."
"I didn't mean to," Murasakibara blurted, "I-I didn't know how to stop. I'm sorry."
His expression had crumpled and the same hands that could shatter brick, cement and bones were twitching and pulling at his tattered shirt.
Daiki stared at them and sighed. "I know. It wasn't your fault."
Murasakibara did not look even remotely comforted. His eyes roamed the ruins of Kaijou's village, wide and child-like. Whatever he was thinking though, he never did say.
Daiki weaved through the trees, the nightscape rushing by him in ribbons of silver and green. He heard the patter of water as he darted across the surface of the stream, the minute droplets not quick enough to touch him.
The wreckage Murasakibara had left behind had vanished, the uprooted trees and crushed sentinels gone without a trace. Even their footprints in the marshy earth had disappeared, as if wrinkles smoothed out of fabric. Daiki swore beneath his breath. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about Tetsu's damn Overflow. If it had already touched the glade…
He was spared the finish to that thought, when the moonlit fringe of open grass came into view. Daiki's eyes widened at the stench of metal and smoke still lingering in the air. Pock marks covered what ground he could make out, crevices made where pieces of the B unit had bounced across.
Relief pulsed through him and he sped up even further. Unless the birds had acquired a taste for charred metal and slime, the sentinel's remains would still be there. He'd haul all of it back to town and find out for sure what the hell happened that night. If Tetsu had lied or not. And whether there was something actually weird about Kagami Taiga…or if Daiki had just been a jealous asshole.
At least that'd been the plan anyway.
"Shit!" Daiki skidded to a sharp halt, dragging a deep line in the ground. Alien screeches filled the night as the sentinels trickled out of the foliage, the darkness blurring their bodies into one giant amorphous swarm. Daiki's knuckles whitened as the inky eyes locked onto him, focusing and scanning. A subtle hum mounted in the air before each sentinel began to quiver, a visible shift present as they moved into acquisition mode.
They really could see him.
Tetsu's barrier was gone.
A yellow blur streaked by him. "What's wrong, Aominecchi?" Kise's smug grin flashed across his vision. "Tired already?"
Daiki's eyes bulged. "Idi—Sto—IN FRONT OF YOU!"
The garbled warning was too late. Kise turned, baffled, only to scream bloody murder a second later as the wall of sentinels swiped at him.
Purple light streamed around his body as Kise crashed into the robots, sending three to the ground just by colliding into them.
"Oh my god, shit, shit, shit," he chanted, the violet glow fading as he scrambled to his feet and backwards to Daiki's side, "Why didn't you say anything, goddamn it?!"
"I was fucking trying! Why didn't YOU watch where you were going?"
There was a rustle and thud behind Kise before he could retort. Midorima and Murasakibara appeared, gaping at the massive clump of robotic limbs and faces.
"…I think you're wrong, Mido-chin," Murasakibara declared, "Kuro-chin's definitely broken."
Whatever that meant, Midorima nodded blankly.
"Perhaps."
"You guys are slow," Daiki snapped, "And don't say shit like that so casually."
They gave him odd looks. "It's simply the truth. They wouldn't even have been interested in coming this far if Misdirection was still working."
"Would saying Kuro-chin isn't working be better, Mine-chin?"
"I wouldn't assume that," Kise interjected, ever helpful, "Kurokocchi probably works fine. He just massively screwed up somehow."
Midorima and Murasakibara stared at the blonde, wholly unimpressed. Daiki slumped in defeat, an annoyed sigh breezing past his teeth. There wasn't time for this crap.
"Look, we'll figure out what's wrong with Tetsu when we get back," he said, blue light gathering across his fingers, "Let's just get this over with."
He was about to take off when Midorima's hand sprang out and stopped him. "It's not that simple."
"I beg to fucking differ—"
"They're gathering from all sides," Midorima's gaze was raised towards the forest, looking straight into the pitch blackness, "I'm counting forty-five just scattered in the trees. The group facing us must be twice that."
Stunned silence ensued. Daiki and Murasakibara stared. Kise was a bit more animated.
"Wait, wait," he whipped towards the sentinels, almost falling over, "Haha, that was a joke right? How many again?"
"One-hundred sixty-five approximately. Forty-one point two five each, assuming no more arrive," Midorima said, his dead gaze on Daiki, "And I'm sure you're aware, we can't let them leave here. None of them."
As he spoke, he pointed at the sea of glinting eyes; the whirl of focusing camera lenses almost audible. The atmosphere grew stifling with unspoken tension. They could only imagine the outcome if videos of their faces got back to Teikou. Akashi for one, would never let them stop running again.
And with them gone, the town was as good as finished too, swallowed back into the empire's darkness.
Daiki paled, as the sudden terrifying thought hit him full-force. He saw the great fire flash through his mind, lighting the many faces, every one filled with awe and faith. There was that asshole Wakamatsu, Imayoshi and his damn smirk, Susa and Ryo. And Satsuki…
Murasakibara of all people, gave it voice before he could.
"Ne, shouldn't we do something about the town? If they can see us then they'll see Kiseki and Aka-chin doesn't even know what's going on."
Midorima shook his head, lips pursed. "It doesn't matter."
"What are you talking about?" Kise said, eyes wide, "Of course it matters! The sentinels could wreck the place! God, if they touch even a strand on my Kasamatsucchi's head, I'll—"
"I mean it won't be targeted." For a beat, his eyebrows knitted in visible debate before continuing, "Think about it. With four out of five Miracles here, the town means nothing to sentinels."
Daiki flinched hard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Murasakibara and Kise do the same. No matter how many times he heard the title, it still sounded weird to him, like a fragment of himself that didn't fit quite right.
But the argument at least made sense and Daiki let himself relax slightly. This was a far bigger hassle than he thought it'd be, but he was still relieved. His head had no space left for more ghosts.
"Fine, it's a good fucking thing we don't sleep. What's the plan?"
"The old formation Akashi had us in should work," Midorima said shortly, "You two on the ground. Kise and I up high."
He vanished into the dark as soon as he finished speaking, no doubt to ninja up the closest tree. After casting one final anxious look at the sentinels, Kise followed, leaving them alone.
Daiki released a sigh, glancing over minutely as a great shadow blanketed him. "Guess we're the frontlines again."
Murasakibara shrugged, "Like old times, right Mine-chin?"
There was a small note of sobriety in the drawl. Daiki gave a tired snort, flicking his wrist. The clean ring of an unsheathing blade was stark in the mounting silence.
"Yeah, big guy. Old times."
BANG
Shots ran through the treetops as the limp bodies of sentinels tumbled from the branches—each one drilled through with holes. Their counterparts on ground level screeched, eyes flickering, and as if a trigger had been pulled, they began to advance.
Murasakibara took a step forward and Daiki did not so much see the earth crack under his foot, than feel it tremble and give. Scorching wind flooded down from nowhere, the edge of it grazing hot across his neck. Daiki barely stopped himself from shuddering, from taking a step back.
"Mine-chin," Murasakibara murmured, not looking at him, "If I can't…If I…just…You'll move this time, right?"
A wisp of fear lingered in his tone. Something like a memory.
Daiki turned away.
"Relax, I will."
Kuroko woke before dawn. Eyes snapping back, he sat up, sheets sliding down his naked flesh as the bed frame creaked beneath him. A window had been cracked open, the faint breeze slipping through in a spread of rain and mountain air.
Akashi was gone.
He'd only been asleep an hour, but the space next to him was empty, the surface unwrinkled.
Kuroko breathed out and slid from the bed, placing his feet on the wooden floor and feeling the tingling cold seep into his soles. One hand ran down his hair, making a half-hearted attempt to smooth it out, while the other reached for his shop uniform, still draped over the post.
With thin graceful fingers, Kuroko got dressed, folding up the bedding and sheets along the way before heading downstairs. Akashi wasn't there either, though he had left the kettle brewing.
Kuroko touched the glass curve with his fingers, a swirl of heat trickling down his skin. Small and made of fine black porcelain, it was the only thing Akashi had ever acquired just for himself. Yet for all its sentiment, it gave no hint of where he was or which way he'd gone.
That was how it had always been between them. The empty side of the bed and the things unsettled, even the sting in his heart now.
Kuroko lifted his hand, shaking his head to dispel the haze of self-pity trying to take shape. There were more important things to do than to wallow.
Surveying the quiet house one final time, Kuroko slid the door open and exited.
The square had long been deserted, the crowds having finally dispersed at midnight. Somewhat grateful for the silence, Kuroko walked through the place, trying to formulate what he would say to the others about Watabe's village and the sudden quest he was undertaking.
They would be shocked of course, and confused as always. Midorima and Murasakibara would not see the point in rescuing some thirty-odd strangers that'd bring only disadvantage and inconvenience. Kise would see, but not understand.
Kuroko sighed, feeling his chest clench. He wasn't mad at them. Teikou's reach was far and deep and it was the only thing they'd ever known. Anger and frustration wouldn't get him anywhere. All he could do was try harder to get through to them.
Which left Aomine.
A fond, sad little smile grew on Kuroko's face.
Though his heart wondered at times, he didn't regret rejecting Aomine. It'd been done for the sake of friendship and honesty and he couldn't give him hope for something that would never be.
Even if sometimes, Kuroko couldn't help imagining how things might've been different. Akashi Seijuuro would never, ever simply vanish from his thoughts, but…it would've been nice to have someone who could love him back. Someone who could make him feel whole.
"Kuroko?"
He halted, thoughts shattering. About twenty feet away, a silhouette stood where the great fire had dwindled into cinders. Kuroko's eyes widened, registering the fiery red hair.
"Kagami-kun?"
Taiga wasn't sure what made him return to the town square.
After the ceremony's end at midnight, people had begun to rise, flowing back into the dark cabins they had trailed from.
After their offers to help clean were rejected a third time, Captain Hyuuga had shaken hands with Mibuchi, before waving at them to get up. Kiyoshi filled the whole walk back with animated praise about the ceremony, receiving similar input from Izuki and Tatsuya.
"What about you, Kagami?" he asked, glancing at him with a smile, "You've been kinda quiet. Didn't you like the story? I told you it was a good one."
Taiga returned the smile weakly, steadying Kiyoshi as his senpai limped down the path. "Yeah, it was pretty cool."
He kept the memory of the boy to himself, even as he lingered in his thoughts, a perpetual shadow over his face. He probably shouldn't have, but he did. The senpai already saw him as some damaged, half-broken kid they needed to tiptoe around. Freaky shit like that needed to be kept scarce.
Fortunately for his burning curiosity, Tatsuya had been interested enough to ask about the Miracles.
"Oh, them," Hyuuga sighed, as if he'd just been put in a difficult position, "Listen guys, I'm not trying to patronize, but don't put too much stock in this Miracle business. The Zone star itself exists and it does fly by Earth every once and a while—that's true. But the other talk about magic and superpowers and chosen children? It's all just to get you through the day."
Taiga's eyes widened, while Tatsuya slumped, like he wasn't sure whether to be surprised or resigned. Izuki sighed and shook his head.
"Thanks for the two cents, Hyuuga."
"What? They're grown-ass adults. I'm not gonna sugar-coat it for them."
"There's never been any definitive proof one way or another."
"Why would it be true, Izuki?" the captain snapped, "The Zone passed by twenty-one years ago. You think if all that crap about the Miracles was true we'd even be having this conversation? Would the whole goddamn world be rotting at the seams like this?"
"Stop it, Hyuuga," Kiyoshi said, with rare disapproval, "Just because no one's ever seen them, doesn't mean they're not real."
The captain looked at him. Taiga would never forget how very cold his eyes had been.
"They better not be real," he said, "Because if they are, then that means everything that's happened, every single fucking thing, happened because they let it happen. Because they didn't give enough of a damn when they needed to."
There was silence. Kiyoshi's eyes strayed toward the ground. Izuki shook his head again and the captain just glared, tight-lipped, not looking particularly victorious. At the time, Taiga did not know what to say, only exchanging awkward glances with Tatsuya. And though he wasn't one to put his faith in fairytales, Taiga couldn't help feeling a small pulse of disappointment anyway.
"It's a shame, but I suppose it was just a story," his brother had said, later in their room, "Oh well, more glory for us right?"
Taiga rolled his eyes, "Sure, we cram six to a tent while Riko-san has a threesome with Kiyoshi and Captain a couple feet from my head. Oh, the glory."
A weird hiccough noise came from Tatsuya, the kind that said he wasn't sure whether to crack up or feel scandalized. It still somehow managed to sound graceful.
"P—Probably should keep that tidbit to yourself. Hyuuga would burst something vital," he half-snorted again, before managing to compose himself, "Anyway, I'm just saying don't look so crestfallen. The possibility would've been awesome, but you're still plenty cool."
"Who the hell looks crestfallen? And what are you talking about?"
His brother regarded him with a tragic expression. "I just knew you didn't notice. The Zone star, Taiga. It came twenty-one years ago—when you were born."
A beat of revelation passed.
"Oh."
"Yeah," his brother grinned, nudging him, "So on the off chance it is all real, you'd still be in the running. My cute little bro could be a Miracle."
With a scoff, Taiga batted him away. "You're out of your damn mind."
But the idea, or at least an inkling of it, stayed with him the rest of the night, only separating when he tumbled into the terror and fire of his dreams.
When he woke an hour later, breathless and sweating at the edge of dawn, it seemed far more ridiculous.
Who was he anyway to think he was something special? He couldn't even protect what had mattered to him.
The next second, Tatsuya was stirring in the bed next to him and Taiga found himself scrambling out to avoid another uncomfortable chat.
And now he was here. The remains of the fire last night smoldered at his feet, Mibuchi's powders still sprinkled in the ashes. Yellow and Green and Violet. Blue and Red.
Kuroko was staring at him with an expression akin to surprise.
"Kagami-kun?"
He nodded, smiling a little awkwardly. "Hey."
"What are you doing up at this hour?"
"Ah, couldn't sleep."
Concern flickered in Kuroko's gaze. He walked over. Or Taiga supposed "floated over" was the more accurate term. "That's no good. You were hurt very badly and need to rest."
Pale eyes stared up at him, wide, like two small perfect moons. The complete randomness of such a stupid observation sent the blood rushing to his cheeks again and Taiga was grateful for the darkness.
"I-It's fine. I got an hour or so in."
"…Only an hour?"
Taiga blinked.
"Oh yeah, uh, well…I'm kind of weird I guess. I've never needed much sleep…"
Kuroko tilted his head and Taiga felt himself blushing harder, even though it was the truth. For as long as he could remember, he had only needed about an hour to recharge and sometimes went weeks without any. Even when he tried to sleep more, he couldn't and ended up staring at the ceiling until sunrise.
The guys at Seirin took it in stride, though he could tell they found it strange.
Alex too, use to freak out a lot about it. She always told him to keep it a secret, but never explained why. He wondered sometimes, if she had simply been unnerved.
So it was with no small amount of confusion to Taiga, when Kuroko didn't look startled or skeptical at all.
"I see. That's a relief then," he said, studying him, "And it's not weird. Being like that. You shouldn't be sorry about who you are."
Taiga stared, concealing his micro-flinch with a furrowed brow. "I'm not—I—A-Anyway, what are you doing up for?"
Kuroko gave a small, almost furtive smile. "We're more similar than you think, Kagami-kun. I suppose you could say I don't need much sleep either," his gaze turned to the square, "A walk around town helps kill the time. And I enjoy the quiet that follows the Zone ceremony."
You weren't there though. I looked for you. The words almost leaped from Taiga's mouth, stopped only by his own vast awareness of how creepy it all sounded.
Obliviously, Kuroko continued, "You attended right? Mibuchi-san said he was requesting everyone from Seirin to go." At Taiga's nod, his expression became more apologetic. "I am sorry for missing it. There were a lot of things I'd hoped to introduce you to myself."
The genuine disappointment in his voice made Taiga want to assuage him.
"Don't worry about it. It's not like you have any obligation towards me." He paused and looked down into the ashes. He had almost seen the ancient star streaking through the flames that night, in tandem with Mibuchi's words, the six lights dividing to places unknown.
"To be honest though, I'd never heard that story before."
Rather than shock, Kuroko seemed rather bemused. "I thought all the kingdoms use to require their schools to teach it."
Taiga stared into the soot. "Yeah, my…mom didn't send us. We were pretty much always home-schooled and I guess it never occurred to her."
Kuroko looked at him, and like he hadn't really heard what Taiga was talking about at all, said simply, "Your mother?"
Taiga kept staring. "Yeah, mine and Tatsuya's." She had been—not technically, but in every way that mattered.
"Does she travel with both of you?"
"…No."
Kuroko was quiet. A thin breeze swept by, ruffling through their hair and bringing the scent of wet mountain soil. "Where is she now?"
He could've said so many things then. Why the hell are you asking. None of your fucking business. Who knows, who knows.
But what ended up tumbling out, as he'd come to realize would happen for most of his conversations with Kuroko, was the truth.
"Gone."
The air stilled and whatever ash was stirred by the wind settled back into the pit.
"I'm sorry," Kuroko said, with a heaviness that surpassed mere pity, "We lost someone too. A long time ago."
Taiga looked up. "We?"
"The six of us," a pale hand waved towards the gate, where Taiga could just make out the shop's ghostly outline, "Maybe it was obvious, but we've known each other for a long time."
Taiga nodded. Even he could see how familiar they were with each other, as if all different rivers leading to the same sea. He supposed he should've asked about the town then, how they'd done it and what had happened. But with the way Kuroko stood, shoulders slightly hunched, hands loose at his side, like a vast, invisible weight was threatening to crush him—it made Taiga hold his tongue.
"You were raised together? Like me and Tatsuya?"
Kuroko's lips curved and he kneeled down next to him. "Yes, a lot like you and Himuro-san," the smile faded, "A man found us one by one. Our guardian of sorts. We called him Shirogane-san."
Taiga's eyes slid towards him at the name. It rang with faint familiarity, but he couldn't quite pinpoint from where.
"He must've had a castle or something then, to keep all six of you. Some of you guys are freaking huge."
"It was something like a castle," Kuroko agreed softly, strangely, "And hard to forget. It was big like you said. Endless. You could hear voices through the walls and there were places in it where the sun never touched."
Taiga's skin slightly prickled. "That's a little morbid, don't you think?" he said, joking weakly, "Still sounds better than living in a shanty with the rest of us."
Kuroko turned and Taiga would remember his eyes then forever, how much they made him regret his words. It was only a flicker, but in that flicker was the deepest, most unfathomable pain Taiga had ever encountered. A loneliness that stretched out and out and dug grooves into his heart for reasons he couldn't even understand. Kasamatsu's words echoed in his head.
It was their eyes.
"I'm sorry," Kuroko said, "I've never forgotten how people suffered back then."
"What? No—" Taiga fumbled, a distant corner of him pondering how Kuroko always seemed to be apologizing, "That's not what I meant either. The Teikou had invaded, life was probably shit for everyone. You just got what you got and learned to accept it, whether you wanted to or not."
Kuroko gave him another odd look, like he really was the most peculiar thing.
"You're more thoughtful than I assumed, Kagami-kun."
"WHAT—"
"—And you're right," Kuroko said, smiling at Taiga's outrage, "Running from yourself doesn't fix anything. Shirogane-san always tried to remind us of that."
His pale face softened. "I honestly think he meant well. If he hadn't gotten ill so early on then maybe…maybe things would be different now."
Though he didn't have the heart to say it, Taiga wasn't sure how much different it would've been. Seirin had been trying for as long as he could remember, but they had yet to crawl out from under Teikou's boot. In his bleakest moments, he wondered if anyone ever would.
"Were you alone?" he asked instead, "After our mom, we wandered around for three years before Seirin took us in." God, he still saw it too well for his own damn good. The frozen streets, the ratty clothes, Tatsuya's trembling grip as he pulled him along through the alleys, dodging legs and hands and sometimes knives.
Another flurry of wind streaked by them, howling in Taiga's ear. Kuroko laughed, a jarringly bitter sound. "They would never have left us alone," he said, "Shirogane-san's replacement was appointed a day before he died. That's when we met Sanada Naoto."
The wind screamed again, louder, and Taiga had to shield his eyes as it stirred the ashes of the great fire. Some part of him questioned what the hell was up with the weather all of a sudden, but most of him was just confused. Appointed? Replacement? It wasn't sounding anymore like a sad story about a decent man who took in six boys before dying on them in the end—the way he'd been picturing it.
BOOM
The earth suddenly rippled beneath him. A flood of hot wind streamed in, whipping across Taiga's face and hair. Doors and windows slammed open as people stuck their heads out, still confused and disheveled with sleep only to yelp and duck down at the gust. Taiga swore, barely keeping his footing as he calmed his heart before it could begin to ram. The sound, though deafening, had come from the distance. Somewhere in the mountain.
"What the fu—"
Kuroko ran past him in a dead sprint. He went so quickly that he was practically a blur, stepping right through the fire pit and towards the town gate. The fierceness of the wind almost made him stumble, but he didn't stop. Taiga blinked.
"Wait, Kuroko!"
He didn't of course. For a dumb second, Taiga stared as Kuroko's slight form grew smaller and smaller into the distance. The colored powders had been left in a smattering trail behind him, a rainbow of footprints.
Despite his first instinct to follow, something in Taiga kept his feet where they were. A gut feeling that told him Kuroko was going somewhere Taiga was not meant to be privy to, that he'd regret it if he followed.
Still though…if there was someone who needed help...
"Damn it," Taiga said and ran, legs moving almost with a will of their own.