Written for the requests:

Would you consider writing something osamu/kuga centric? it doesn't have to be shippy if you're uncomfortable with that but i'd love to see something about them by you!

And:

Would you consider doing an osayu/ osamu and kuga centric fic? I love your characterization so much!

Sorry I folded them into one fic, but you guys didn't give me much to go on for individual fics...

Also written for Yuuma's birthday now that we actually know what it is. I need to stop writing angst fic for characters' birthdays orz

It was another beautiful night, the sky clear with bright stars dotting the dark expanse. Yuuma counted himself a connoisseur of Japan's night skies by now, with how long he spent staring up at them during the dark hours when everyone else was asleep. But even compared to all the Japanese nights he had seen, tonight was a beautiful night.

Yuuma dangled his legs on the edge of Tamakoma's rooftop, tilting his head back up into the sky. There was no Replica here to document tonight for their records, not anymore, so Yuuma stared up at the sky as hard as he could. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could burn the sight into his memory, something to tell Replica when they meet again. He had been saving up these little moments ever since the invasion, little stories to regal Replica with and be added into their records alongside all the other nations they have travelled through.

Behind him, the door creaked open, and Yuuma turned to see Osamu awkwardly juggling two steaming mugs as the door to the roof thumped shut behind him. "Good evening," Yuuma called out, almost standing up to help; but Osamu steadied himself without any intervention, walking up swiftly to Yuuma's side.

"Good evening," Osamu replied, handing one of the mugs to Yuuma. "I heard from Rindou-san that you're up here."

Yuuma hummed equivocally, cupping the mug between his hands.

"That book Rindou-san gave you to read, The Little Prince," Osamu added, straight to the point. "I read it too."

Yuuma turned his head so he was looking Osamu straight in the eyes. "Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah," Osamu said. "It's an interesting book. Do you think the author could be a Neighbour? Or knew Neighbours? That's why Rindou-san wanted you to read it, right?"

"Hmm," Yuuma said, remembering the complicated smile on Rindou's face when he had handed the book to Yuuma, not long after the invasion. 'I heard you read Pinocchio,'' he had said. 'Something to think about.' Yuuma wasn't so sure he was talking about the possible Neighbour origins of the author. "The stars that the Prince travelled through could be a metaphor for the Neighbourhood I guess."

Osamu frowned at him. "You don't care that this could be another friendly Neighbour?"

Yuuma shrugged. "He's already dead."

"He's missing," Osamu corrected. "They never found his body. Maybe he returned to the Neighbourhood."

"Maybe," Yuuma said.

Osamu blinked, visibly flat-footed. "I guess you don't care, huh."

Yuuma shrugged again. "It doesn't really matter whether he was a Neighbour or not. I don't know what nation he came from, or if I could have known him; we have no ties."

"I guess that's true," Osamu said, a little uncomfortably.

"Being a Neighbour or not doesn't mean anything," Yuuma said, not understanding why it mattered so much to Osamu. "You matter, you and the rest of Tamakoma, and the people of Border, and all the other people I have met. We have established ties, like that book said. You have tamed me." He remembered his early days on Earth, just a few short months though it felt so long ago now, back when he knew nothing - not even of his good fortune in meeting Osamu.

Osamu made a face. "Don't say it like that."

"But it's true." Yuuma smiled impishly. "And I'd like to think I've tamed you too. You and Chika and Jin-san and Konami-sempai and everyone in Tamakoma. I would cry for you."

"Thanks," Osamu said awkwardly, smiling a little.

"It probably won't come to that though," Yuuma mused, tilting his head back up to the stars.

Osamu's arms came up around Yuuma carefully, his mug still in his hand. "You have tamed me. But that's why I don't want to cry for you. I don't want to be reminded of you by anything except you yourself."

Yuuma could feel Osamu press his forehead against the nape of Yuuma's neck. It was a commendable attempt at reworking the book's words, and not something Osamu usually did. Yuuma leaned back into his embrace. "But when the snake comes for me…"

"Don't go," Osamu said fiercely. "Don't go with him even if he comes for you. Don't listen to what he says. We're the ones who'll take you to Replica."

Yuuma laughed. "Is Replica supposed to be the Rose?"

Osamu's arms tightened around Yuuma. "I thought that was a good metaphor."

"It's not a bad metaphor," Yuuma said soothingly, "but Replica isn't really anything like the Rose."

"I guess not," Osamu admitted. "But that means you don't have to go with the snake."

Yuuma brought his free hand up to grasp at one of Osamu's arms around his chest. "I won't have a choice when that happens. But...I would like that to happen after I see Replica again. I won't die for Replica, Osamu." He didn't say, but I would die for you.

Osamu's head shifted, a heavy weight on Yuuma's shoulder. "I'll make that happen. I'll make sure you see Replica again. I promise."

Yuuma moved his hand from Osamu's arm to his head, patting gently. "Thank you," he said. And then, because Osamu's embrace was warm, because the night was lonely, because Yuuma was weak, he asked, "I know you don't want to, but will you cry? When the time comes, will you cry for me?"

Yuuma felt Osamu twitch, he turned to see the corners of Osamu's mouth turning down unhappily. He didn't say anything though, and Yuuma let the silence spool between them, unwilling to be the one to break it.

"...I will," Osamu finally said, softly and a little desperately. "And I will laugh too, when I look at the stars and am reminded of you."

He was blushing so heavily that Yuuma could see it even in the dim light of the stars, and Yuuma couldn't stop his mouth from lifting up in a smile. He pressed his lips to Osamu's to hide it, he didn't want Osamu to think he was laughing at him.

Their mugs clinked lightly as Osamu kissed him back, his free hand tangling gently in Yuuma's hair. Someday the snake would come for Yuuma, and he would have to go. But until then, Osamu was here, always amenable for kisses. They still had plenty of time before he made Osamu cry.