Sixty years later
Kuroo laid in his bed, his body ached, his mind lost. Kuroo's hand trembled as he reached up, his eyes looking at the gray string but then at the faded red and black bracelet around his wrist. He hadn't taken it off since Kenma's passing. Kenma was buried with his own.
The comfort Kuroo once felt looking at the string around his finger had been replaced by sorrow. Now, that string reminded him of where Kenma was buried. Since Kenma's passing, Kuroo closed himself off and refused to speak of soulmates. His nieces and nephews had asked, his sisters tried but he refused. Kuroo hadn't loved since Kenma. He didn't believe anyone was good enough the way Kenma was.
Kuroo watched the window, he remembered the first time he'd met Kenma. It was like a slap in the face. He thought he was perfect. He'd never felt happier in his life. The only thing that topped that was when he first kissed Kenma.
He smiled to himself as he remembered the feeling as if it were happening. Kuroo allowed himself to slip away, his final breaths making way as his eyes gently closed. He hoped that in the next life he'd meet Kenma sooner, much sooner.
