A/N: hello again! this chapter was full of mistakes but the kind akai-anna Tumblr made sure that it's good to go, so yesh, sorry for my incompetence in typing properly hahaha ;u; at any rate, here you have an akakuro chapter! for those of you guys who are rooting kikuro, you may begin counting your days because of... certain things that will happen in the next chapter. the next chapter's preview doesn't look like much, but some big things will happen in Kuroko's journey. one of those life-changing moments.

and thanks to a friend's tipoff, I'd just like to do a little shoutout to that person who shared this fic on her FB timeline, writing these words: "I swear this writer is good at writing both angst and humour oh god," hello there and thank you! XD and thank you Yui-chan for making a cute art for TVP! anyway, thank you again my lovely readers for being patient with my slow updates, for all your reviews, comments, criticisms, favourites, and follows on TVP! (i swear to god the next chapter will not disappoint!)

"Your garden is lovely, Tetsuya."

"I owe it to the servants, they've always taken good care of it."

"But you chose not to add anything to damage the landscape, unlike others."

"Have you been to their pavilions, Your Majesty?"

His innocent question makes Akashi laugh, and Kuroko grows flustered at the thought of him making a fool of himself.

"Of course, Tetsuya, I have." He strides with an elegant gait beside Kuroko, who seems to fumble in his cotton sandals, and exhales softly. "They each have an allocated amount of riches in their name, so they take the liberty to install new foundations in their homes. I suppose Ryōta hasn't told you this, but after a full month has passed, you'll be paid monthly in order to make up for your absence in the world outside. Consider this a steady job," he adds, throwing a knowing glance. "After all, you'll be living here for a long time, Tetsuya. For some, the money is what makes it worth staying. For others, being my concubine is considered an easy task, something they're willing to trade their whole life away for daily luxuries."

Kise evidently hasn't mentioned that before, out of consideration or forgetfulness, Kuroko doesn't know.

Because it's stark obvious now that he's just a royal whore, paid in monthly instalments.

The little knowledge he clutches in his palm right now is unbearably meagre. The palace's intricacies, the lies and deceit embedded in their veins, the closely guarded secrets, everything frustrates him. He knows there's no way out unless he ascends the throne as someone worthy beside Akashi, as the Grand Empress, but that day seems so far away from the grasp of his tiny hands. So many unforeseen circumstances, vague outcomes that could get him killed.

He's playing with fire, and that fire will scorch him sooner or later.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Kuroko acquiesced with a small nod, falling into little hasty steps as he tries to keep up with the emperor's measured pace. They're both strolling around Kuroko's pavilion aimlessly, walking underneath the flower-laden silk cotton trees, flitting in between granite stone lanterns, and the silence breaks every now and then with a small plop from the koi fishpond. Clearing his throat, he folds his hands together and looks up to the redhead once more. "But then again, I won't have much use for the money, Akashi-sama. I have everything that I need here, so I don't need to ask for more."

Akashi tips his head to the side, subtle, and pauses underneath a thick trunk of a hundred-year-old tree, bracing his palm against the gritty wood. He doesn't reply. The falling petals slowly drift away, a scattered mess that dots his crimson hair with pink, yet he doesn't seem to mind them. His smooth, young face has a gentle expression on it, and his lips are painted in a small, yet almost invisible smile. It's strange. At times like this, where the hushed stillness drips between them, when he's not barking commands to his subordinates, Akashi Seijūrō seems more like a man than a sociopathic emperor.

It's got Kuroko wondering whether it's just a big farce in the end, where everyone's uncoordinatedly ganging up to spread scary lies about murders and cruelty just to see him suffer.

"And that is what sets you apart from others, Tetsuya," Akashi finally says, a glint of approval highlighting his eyes. "While many would revel in the small riches bestowed upon their names, you find little to no interest in spending them. But ultimately, I'll still be paying you as how I'm paying the rest of your kind. What you do with the money is none of my concern. Perhaps," he muses, withdrawing his hand and raising it to brush a few petals off Kuroko's shoulder, "you can send the money back to your parents, Tetsuya. Or donate it to a charitable organisation of your liking. Whatever your decision may be, I'm content with it."

It's the first time Akashi touches him so openly.

Kuroko doesn't know if the gentle gesture should scare him, or steal his heart.

Kise's brand of affection involved plenty of hand-holding and kisses, where he overflows with so much love until it suffocates the subject with warmth and compassion. But Akashi is insidious, an owner instead of a lover, he handles everything with a genteel touch as though his purpose isn't to show that he treasures them; it leaves them yearning and craving for more. More and more of him, more and more of his caress, more and more of his attention. Comparing Kise to Akashi would be like comparing a teenager with his first love, and an adult man whose life revolves around swarming midnight lovers at his beck and call.

They're too different from one another.

"I understand."

A smouldering smile quirks the corners of Akashi's lips at his favourable answer. How easy it is to please the emperor: essentially, deference is what he seeks from his playmates, and it's vital knowledge that Kuroko picked up from the paltry amount of time they spent with one another. Don't say anything unnecessary, don't provoke him, don't misplace his trust. Those crucial things are keeping his head attached to his body right now, and it shouldn't be compromised, no matter the circumstances.

Gesturing for Kuroko to walk alongside him, the red beauty continues sauntering in the garden, the shuddering grass underneath his feet crunching with every step. "It's curious how easily you're placated, Tetsuya. I've yet to gift you with anything, not even a title. At your current level, you're just one of my lowest concubines," he softly mocks, contemplative. "Perhaps it's best for me to reshuffle my list, and let you have a taste of what it feels like to be in the ranks amongst my favourites."

That's something new.

It bleeds out of Kuroko's ears—playing favourites? Akashi plays favourites with his concubines?—but he retains his general patience to the situation. It's to be expected; he's the newest one in here, and he dares to say that there could've been many others a far cry better at pleasing and pleasuring Akashi, unlike what he's doing with his wagging tongue that only offers chats. Twining his fingers behind his back, the small teen trots alongside the emperor, passing by tall bushes of blue hydrangeas with deep lavender hearts.

"I didn't know that we have a ranking system, Your Majesty."

This time around, his answer evidently doesn't satisfy Akashi. "Good grief, does Ryōta ever tell you anything?" he clicks his tongue chidingly. Setting his eyes on Kuroko, Akashi allows himself a moment of pensive silence before enlightening the other. "During the previous reigns when we still have plenty of omegas, the emperors held an imperial procession to induct them into royalty."

"Yes, he did mention that before," Kuroko mumbles, nodding. "But due to our declining numbers, as soon as we came into our traits, we're fetched by the ones whom you trust. At least, that is what Kise-san remembered to tell me when I first came here, Akashi-sama." The billowing wind tickles his cheeks and he tucks a straying lock behind his ear, carefully aware of the appreciative look on Akashi's face as though he's a child who should be rewarded for recalling his lessons well.

"You're right, Tetsuya. It used to be that as your kind was inaugurated into my palace, the emperor had to pick ten of out of three thousand to be his empresses, bestowed with different titles and given different sceptres of gold and jades as symbols of their ranks. Now, considering that the number of my concubines fluctuates, I've altered the system to be fair to everyone who's received much later on. They can rise and fall from glory, just with a word of my command, and can be replaced by others who are worthier, like you."

A ticking clock reverberates in Kuroko's head.

He doesn't know whether it's the sound of the steady beating of his heart, or the sound of his internal cogs processing Akashi's words.

Fluctuating numbers due to how omegas are fetched to increase the amount to its glorified days of three thousand beautifully painted faces, or fluctuating numbers due to how Akashi easily cuts off the weeds from flowers?

Kuroko looks away from the redhead and opts to gaze at the tiled slopes of his pavilion's roofs, maintaining their amiable silence to mask his seeping thoughts. Kise once stood there, just looking and looking and looking at how Kuroko tried to escape one baleful night, and yet, here he is, still standing strong, still encompassed behind thick walls. Sure, cuts and bruises have started to form at places nobody's ever bothered to look at, but he's still breathing and playing the game of the concubine trapped in the imperial cages. As long as he keeps living, he can still keep going.

A human's adaptability is an amazing thing, Kise said, and he's right.

He's always been right. All along.

Finally finding his voice and gathering his wits, Kuroko raises his chin. "Having Akashi-sama consider someone like me worthy enough to be in his list of favourites, it's more than enough honour for me, Your Majesty. I don't mind staying where I am, just at the bottom. If anything, I'm happier to be out of everyone's attention."

A small laugh pierces the silence—his answer elicits a different reaction from the emperor, who shakes his head and falls into little chuckles deep in his throat. Kuroko's hands quiver but he hides them behind his back; no, he's not afraid of Akashi and that's not the reason why he's faintly trembling at the sound. It gnaws at his curiosity how lucid Akashi is, how he's a dissonance from what others shoved down Kuroko's throat. With Akashi's status as an emperor, he has all the rights to send someone to the chopping board if they remotely displease him, but he doesn't seem capable enough of those incalculable cruelties others have smeared his name, judging from his actions.

Laughing, smiling, making small talks—they're all what normal humans do, like Kise, Aomine, and himself.

Is what they're doing right now... a crime?

Will it be told by others that Akashi laughs at Kuroko's misery as he's subjected to nothing but slavery?

Is that what was happening all along? Just misrepresentations of the emperor's eminence?

"You're endearing, Tetsuya."

An unfamiliar hand, slightly roughened fingertips, grips his chin and tilts his head upwards. Kuroko finds himself staring, wide-eyed, into noxious red and rusted gold, mussed up tresses cluttered with pink petals, and the disenchanted smile of Akashi Seijūrō. They've both ceased in their steps, just standing underneath a maddeningly blossoming white tree, and Kuroko's heartbeat races with their sudden proximity. They're standing too close, toe to toe—he could inhale the sharp musk of an alpha male, one whose scent is provocatively wrapping Kuroko in its splendour, practically lacing ribbons around his neck, crossing over his chest, and coiling around his ring finger.

For a moment, everything's lost as Akashi's thumb sneaks out, brushing softly against Kuroko's bottom lip.

A touch too soft for a murderer.

"You're an inviolable beauty, despite not being the end product yet," the emperor murmurs, eyes crinkling with his smile. His thumb is gentle in its ministrations, just sensually biding Kuroko into submission as one of Akashi's belongings—one of his prized possessions others cannot attain in their lifetime. "Even so, you've delighted me well enough for today." His voice lulls others into a dream, slow and measured, injecting tranquillisers to render them helpless before him. "Well enough to warrant your presence in the inner palaces than the outer grounds. You will please me even more so if you accept my orders to move you to where I can have access easily."

—no.

That is his endgame.

This is his design.

Kuroko can't succumb to it.

Not yet.

Just as soon as the thought flickered in Kuroko's mind, Akashi pulls away as though he isn't charged guilty of any crime at all. Just the crime of leaving a lingering, hungering heat on Kuroko's lips that strokes a low, curling feeling in his chest, right down his loins.

Mouth suddenly dry at the realisation, the concubine shakes his head.

"You regard me too highly, Your Majesty," Kuroko sighs, rubbing his forearms to get a semblance of himself. "I'd rather not disappoint you because I might be a glass in the end."

The slight quirk on Akashi's face is unmistakably one of disproval. "Know your place, Tetsuya," he warns, albeit his tone is lighter than his words. "I am never wrong... unless you dare to question my judgment?"

"I apologise, that wasn't my intention at all, Akashi-sama," he quickly rectifies his slip, although the heaviness of his tongue belies his purpose. Pulling himself together, Kuroko shifts his stance and tries again. "Other than my family, I grew up with people who do not believe in me, so I've never had anyone who would appreciate my existence like how you did. Even my seniors in Teikō Middle High didn't give me permission to join the second string of the basketball club because of my late inheritance. As someone called a late bloomer, I'm not even qualified to enter the club to begin with. I'm too weak to be used as a regular, or even as a useful member."

"Oh? Did they bully you for it?"

Kuroko shakes his head, drawing a thin smile on his lips. "No, since I was almost invisible in school. Garbage duties on Tuesdays always had the seniors gathering at the area near the incinerators, and they often smoke there. I heard a bit about myself from them every now and then whenever I passed by to do my job. It wasn't very pleasant most of the time, but it didn't break my spirit."

Something about his little story stirs a different air about Akashi, Kuroko realises.

For one, it isn't of murder. With his head tilted back, he establishes a different sort of eye contact with Kuroko. He hardly blinks now, just taking in Kuroko like how Kuroko's taking in Akashi. The emperor silently assesses the tale without any interruptions, and it isn't likely that he'd interject anytime soon.

Slightly perplexed and hoping that he hasn't offended Akashi in any way, Kuroko wets his lips and continues. "It's probably the same anywhere else in schools, Your Majesty. Perhaps there are others who've been discriminated worse than me. Thankfully I graduated just fine from Teikō, and they were scouted into Kirisaki Daīchi. That's the last I heard from them."

It's only at the ending Akashi allows himself a slight, close-lipped smile. Staring down at Kuroko, his overbearing presence would've intimidated most, if not all, but something else lights up his eyes.

Warmth?

No.

"Did you know?" he breaks the tension with a curious tone, but it's obviously a rhetorical question. "Late bloomers often blossom into the loveliest flowers. However, to witness them, it draws on patience. Patience in caring for it in the midst of its growth, of course. Yet, it rewards with transcendent splendours, from dahlias to tulips. Similarly, those who don't take the time to know you will not know of your imminent strength and charm, Tetsuya. Don't let their words discourage you from knowing and appreciating your own self."

Kuroko inhales sharply until his mind throbs from the pain.

Did someone as reputedly merciless as Akashi actually took the time to entertain his mindless rambling?

Or is this another one of his elaborate traps again?

It couldn't be.

Instead of minding his lacking response, Akashi takes it as a sign of contemplation instead of bewilderment and moves on, walking ahead of the static Kuroko. Akashi's words seem to have no impact on himself even though it rolled off his tongue like he practiced daily in front of a mirror. He's on a whole different level from the rest of them. Even a sufficiently noble young man with an aristocratic mannerism like Midorima couldn't possibly hold a candle to Akashi's innate charisma.

Unrivalled, that's how he is.

"Come along, Tetsuya," Akashi says, pausing ever so slightly to throw a glance over his shoulder, and when he spots the motionless Kuroko, he smiles. Outstretching a hand. Curling in his fingers. Beckoning him to join. A dissonance all over again. "I want to show you something before our little time is up."

Who is he to deny the emperor?

No one.

Hopelessly bound under the spell, Kuroko steps into the garden of Alice and reaches out, taking his hand. The wind picks up almost ominously, a foreboding sign for the superstitious, yet Kuroko curls his fingers into Akashi's palm, the foreign texture of his palm pricked with calluses. His sandals scrape alongside leather shoes on the grass, just following as a pet would do. Together, they trudge deeper behind Kuroko's palace, strolling past anciently flowering trees and venturing further beyond what Kuroko previously did.

As their pathways shifted from grassy plains to hardened earth, where healthy foliage breaks into wiry branches, it soon taps into the concubine's mind about his location. It's a place he's seen before.

Kuroko's instincts are proved right when they push through scratchy dead barks and overturned shards of pots, traversing deep, deeper, deepest into the dejected forest. Akashi's oddly familiar with this place, from the telltale smile lingering on his lips that reminded Kuroko of boy scouts going on woodland adventures. When they step past broken wooden fences tarnished by age and weather, Akashi slows down to a gradual halt and tightens his hold on Kuroko's hand, gesturing to a building in front of him.

"Remember this, Tetsuya?" he says.

And Kuroko does.

It's the very same building that he's spotted in the distance when he planned his escape. Its walls are eaten away by age and mould, scraps of yellow paint scantily providing cover to cracked cement, and all its entrances and windows have been boarded shut. A perfect replica of a horror movie's manor. The hallowing darkness within hides what Kuroko doesn't know, it's almost fearsome to look at, and he thinks Akashi caught on to his trepidation because they're both not inching closer to what the building hides. They're just standing there, close enough to make out details of its former glory, yet far away to squash the chills creeping on Kuroko's skin.

"This building," he says, and there's a certain heaviness clinging to his words as he holds Kuroko close; "is where my late mother used to live."

Kuroko blinks.

That explains why Akashi knew a lot about his pavilion's history.

When it comes to familial matters, some love to chat away about their parents and siblings. Others, not so much. What's it like for the great emperor then? Was he more of his mother's son, or his father's? Did he have any siblings, or is he just a one-man army? "Akashi-sama must've frequented this place then," Kuroko comments almost conversationally, stumped on what he should do on the subject.

"Yes."

There's a hint of melancholy in Akashi's voice, something distant. Is he reminiscing? Kuroko can't tell. Only the heat enveloping his hand conveys a different story from the rest.

"Before she was noticed by the late emperor, she, too, chose to live a few years away in solitude. Much like you did," Akashi teases with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I played in her palace when I was young and my bodyguards had a hard time trying to find me in her garden. She planted plenty of flowers and trees that bore fruits, and I often took some for her, despite the maids' persistent chastising. It was unbecoming for a prince to climb trees, you see."

A young and belligerent Akashi, red scrapes and smudged palms, flash through Kuroko's mind as the princeling scuttles past burly men on his knees. His pomegranate red hair billowing in the wind as he gathers handfuls of flowers to be brought back to his mother, the ever-sweet child. The mellow scent of the ripened persimmons blowing into a sunshine-lit room, a mother holding her son's hand with promises of greatness in her eyes.

So different.

They're too different from one another.

"Didn't you stay with your mother, Your Majesty?"

He shakes his head. "No. I have no recollection of living together with the late empress. My earliest memories were of her garden and how she tediously plants one seed after another on the ground. As I was instructed to live in my own palace, I had little contact with her."

The exquisite pain of wanting to be close to someone dear to his heart.

Kuroko understands them all too well.

"Those are precious memories," the concubine whispers, his voice barely carried by the wind. "I'm sure you treasure them, Akashi-sama. Thank you for sharing them with me."

Akashi doesn't reply at his words of gratitude.

He stares at the decrepit palace, his playground once upon a dream, and shifts his head to one side. Kuroko can't begin to imagine what imageries are playing in Akashi's mind, just tattered polaroid photos yellowing from age, and why he's affected by it. Maybe it's because they're both traipsing on a sensitive topic now which both parties could relate to; in a way, Akashi didn't manage to spend much time with his mother before he was wrenched away from her love. And in some ways, Kuroko hadn't spent much time with his family either before the palace got to him.

Perhaps, just perhaps, they're both more similar than he thought.

A shrill, distinct beeping from Akashi's pocket steals his words, and the magic is gone yet again.

Akashi flippantly withdraws his smartphone, singlehandedly tapping through things as he scrutinises the screen. It's a look of displeasure with how he's deeply frowning, if Kuroko's sure of anything. Then, almost methodically, Akashi tucks it away in his pocket and looks at Kuroko through half-lidded eyes.

"It seems that our time is up, Tetsuya," the emperor says, and Kuroko's unsaid words sink right into his throat. "I have to attend to a sudden matter that's been brought up, and I'm not one who delays such urgent subjects. I'll return you to your palace where Ryōta will take care of you once again, and hope that we'll meet again in the nearest future—that is, of course, at the risk of your life."

Is that an insinuation to Kuroko's growing popularity, and inevitable death threats? He doesn't know. Kuroko's sacrificed his family, his school, his life, his body for this moment, and to ruin it would be foolhardy. All he knows is to grasp Akashi's hand tightly, enjoying the emanating warmth that flows through his veins, and hope that it's for the best.

"Yes, Akashi-sama. As you wish."

And together, they leave the dreary scenery of a crumbling past, a decaying building, hand in hand.

It would've been perfect as a love story; only, they were not in love with each other.

There is no love to begin with.

Without the rest of Akashi's ensemble of friends, an empty husk is what Kuroko's palace is all about.

And Kuroko himself retreats to the safety of his room to contemplate today's events.

"I can smell Akashicchi all over you," Kise pointedly says, sitting spread-legged on a stool, his tail wagging attentively behind him. His ears prick forward when Kuroko shifts restlessly underneath the gossamer sheets, resting his head on the goose down pillow. Mystified at his lacking reply, the blonde cocks his head to the side. "Wow... it's really strong on your hand and lips, and scattered everywhere over your body." Almost nosily, too nosy for one who's vying for the concubine's attention, Kise asks, "Do you wanna talk about what happened out there, Kurokocchi? You know, if you want to get things off your chest."

Yes.

He very much wants to.

But his jaws are clenched tight, refusing to let his tongue articulate his questions.

Only managing a breathy sigh, Kuroko turns to his side and stares at the golden fluff of Kise's hair. The meticulous detail of each strand falling over his eyes, every flutter of his long lashes, a twitch of changing expressions, his bodyguard patiently awaits Kuroko's marvellous retelling despite his tail wagging up a storm back there. Neither one of them spoke for a very long time, with the ticking clock counting their seconds.

After a moment of silence, it's only then Kuroko sighs.

"I talked with Akashi-sama earlier and he told me about his mother who used to live in the old building behind the trees. It seems like his mother is an important person to him, judging from what he said."

"Akashicchi's mother?" Kise echoes, jaw hanging open. "W-Wait, Kurokocchi, are you serious? He actually talked about… her?"

Now it's Kuroko's turn to be surprised. Why wouldn't he be serious? Unless the imperial palaces are, yet again, hiding things from him. "What do you mean, Kise-san?"

"The… previous Grand Empress committed suicide."

Or that.

"The previous empress committed suicide?" Kuroko weakly parrots, hoping that the waver in his voice lies undetected. Fingers digging into the sheets, he stops himself from trembling on the bed. With some knowledge comes great price, and the reigning currency in the imperial grounds is fear. "Akashi-sama never told me anything about that."

"Well—yeah, that's because it happened a long time ago," the wolf nods sagely. With the perfect imitation of a bearded scholar, Kise clears his throat and adjusts his tie. "Nobody outside the walls knew about it, definitely not even the normal citizens. It's pretty much the talk of the city in here since everyone gossiped about it, even years afterwards. Some theorised that the late emperor hired some people to off her, and there were some who said that the pressure got to her real bad, so she ended her life. No doubt the prints on the knife's handle were hers, so someone definitely couldn't plant anything on it since the forensics didn't find anything else—but diehard fans, you know how they are. They'll just keep yapping away without any proof. Still, it's a pretty popular theory with its dumb luck and bad timing because the late emperor was pretty old with sickness, so he didn't want to leave his wife around in case she tries to usurp his throne and power. That's just how everyone accepted it, you know."

No.

Kuroko does not know.

And he'd rather not know either, but ignorance won't prove to be bliss in here.

This contained environment submerged its denizens in madness over the years, the saturation growing thicker and thicker over the hundreds of glamorous years. Fame, wealth, fertility, jealousy, just about everything drives them to the edge of insanity. They want more—they yearn for more than what their feeble hands could grasp. Greed pulled them over the chasm, swallowing them whole, and no doubt the late empress, Akashi's mother, felt the same way. Maybe there's more to her story than what others know, but what's popularised won't easily be forgotten.

Just like how Akashi's actions are often misinterpreted into acts of violence.

Drying his clammy palms, Kuroko shrugs those gloomy thoughts away and squares his shoulders. "May we go out tomorrow, Kise-san? I'd like a distraction, if it's possible. A month in my palace won't do me any good after all, I think."

"But it's still dangerous, Kurokocchi." Kise shakes his head firmly, hunching forward as he rests his elbows on his knees. "We still don't have another backup bodyguard from Midorimacchi. Give him some time to get someone free. For now, just stay in your palace." On a note of sheer desperation, Kise doesn't hesitate to tack on a quiet, "Please?" at the end of his sentence.

This again? Kuroko sighs. "I understand the risks, Kise-san, but I have to insist. I won't be going anywhere dangerous—just the library. It may be the best place if I want to learn more about the palace. For starters, the royal archives might have what I need to know."

A look of immediate relief is evident in Kise's eyes as he leans back on the stool. "Okay, the library sounds better since I don't think other concubines go there. Most of them don't even like reading anyway. We'll head there after breakfast or lunch anytime, if you want?"

Other concubines.

Other members of the harem.

Yes, after all these weeks, Kuroko will finally emerge from his cocoon and possibly witness the other peacocks kept under Akashi's wing. Surely they've been here longer than he had, with inheritances spanning a few more years backwards. His kind of people, not the dangerous alphas, not the reticent betas. Will they have generously feminine features? Long hair, full lips, flat chest or perky breasts? Curvaceous hips to bear children, Akashi's heirs? Satin skin and silken dresses, jewelled earrings and hammered gold bracelets? The prospect of it is rather exciting, and Kuroko finds himself biting his lips at the million scenarios flitting through his mind's eye.

But there's one thing that bugs him.

Just one small thing.

"Kise-san, do you know about Akashi-sama's favourites?"

Oh, that subject made the ever-animated Kise freeze on the spot. He straightens up uncomfortably on his seat, eyes wide like he's caught guilty of something. No sooner than three ticks of the clock, he fidgets about, restlessly tapping his heels and squishing his hands together in a tight ball. In a series of halted gasps, he opens and closes his mouth wordlessly, the closing click of his teeth further fuelling Kuroko's curiosity. What's that supposed to mean anyway? Does his reluctance stretch that far?

Sitting up on the bed, Kuroko makes a show of fluffing his pillows and props himself against them, awaiting his faithful servant's reply.

He won't budge on this matter, and Kise should know better than to test him.

"I only know a few," is Kise's raspy reply, holding up three fingers. Taking a shuddering lungful of air, he counts them off one by one; "The one who's living in the Palace of Celestial Purity is Sakurai Ryō, the tenth favourite. In the Palace of Eternal Tranquillity is the second favourite, Mayuzumi Chihiro." He pauses, gritting his teeth, balling up his fist. "And your biggest competitor is Akashicchi's current favourite... the first-ranking concubine who lives in the Palace of Sanguine Pleasure, Furihata Kouki."

#15: "Of course they do!" Kise energetically proclaims, gesturing at the entrance. The uniform-clad guards standing there are perpetually moulded into a saluting pose, and their beady eyes are just watching their interaction with their lips pursed. "I think Midorimacchi mentioned something about books arranged by some dew-dude system, and we've got elevators, escalators, and travelators to make navigation easier. There're always librarians to help out if you get lost in there. So don't sweat it, Kurokocchi, you're going to be fine. It's not that big anyway!"

A/N: don't freak out. TVP is AkaKuro/KiKuro-centric, and will never be AkaFuri/MayuAka/etc., all right? More clarification is on my Tumblr, tagged under 'writing updates', the usual spot you check for any news on TVP. Thank you for everyone's understanding!