I've reached the end of my reserve of writing for this story, so from now on, chapters will be posted as I finish them. They probably won't be daily anymore, but sometimes I get super focused and write really quickly, so who knows.

Kuroko's internal clock woke him at the same time he woke every day—early. For a moment he was disoriented, blinking around the strange room without comprehension. Where was he? The place seemed...vaguely familiar... But also not, as if he'd never seen the room from this perspective before.

Then his eyes fell on his duffel bag, half unpacked on the floor against the wall with clothing items scattered around it. Last night returned to him in a rush, and Kuroko's breath caught in his throat. He felt like a hole had opened in his gut, and he curled around it, struggling to cope. It was over. Everything was over. Kuroko had failed.

He'd fought so hard, for so long, and it had all been for nothing. He hadn't been able to fix anything. Instead, he'd ended up being broken.

He pushed these feelings down as viciously as he could, knowing they were unworthy. Kagami had given him a great deal already. He'd opened his home and his heart to Kuroko without the slightest hesitation. Kuroko couldn't let him see just how devastated he felt, how empty and worthless. It wasn't Kagami's fault. He couldn't hurt him with this.

After a little while of just lying there in his soft pile of blankets, the sense of inadequacy and loss began to fade. It was replaced with a strange and all-encompassing weariness. Kuroko knew that he'd slept for a decent length, but it had failed to restore his energy. He always felt tired in the morning, not fully waking up until the school day was already in full swing, but this was worse than usual.

Kuroko could hear movement beyond the closed door, in the other rooms of the apartment. A pop song began playing on a speaker, bright and jarring. Kagami's voice whistled cheerily along. The refrigerator door opened, a cupboard slammed, silverware clinked against ceramic.

Kuroko was used to silence in the morning. Even before the current troubles began, his father had never been one to spend any time breaking his fast at home. He would just brew some coffee and leave after downing a cup or two. Lately, the smell of coffee no longer woke Kuroko in the morning, since his father was sleeping away his drunkenness. Kuroko had almost begun to find it comforting, how silent and dead his home felt in the mornings.

But as he lay there, listening to Kagami move around, his big feet thumping on the floor, his awkward singing as he tried to join on the pop song's chorus... Kuroko found that he liked the noise. It was pleasant to know that someone else shared these rooms with him, someone who was large and expansive and kind. It was...not lonely.

Kuroko dragged himself to his feet, leaving his bedding in a mound behind him, and padded to the door of the room. He was sore, his arms and torso aching with every movement, but that was normal now. He moved smoothly despite it, knowing that it would appear effortless. Kagami might see through the facade, but Kuroko couldn't break the habit of hiding, not now. He still had to go to school.

Kuroko's hand hesitated on the door. Opening doors had become a dangerous thing in his world. His father reacted unpredictably to Kuroko's presence—sometimes he snarled at him to get out of his sight, sometimes he yelled at him to stop cowering away. Kuroko had become used to sheltering in his room whenever he had the chance. Opening the door was dangerous.

But this was Kagami's place. This door wasn't dangerous. Kuroko was going to have get over all the strange habits he had learned, or Kagami was going to think he was a freak.

After another moment to steel himself, Kuroko opened the door and stepped into the hall. Kagami's voice was louder now. Early morning sunlight beamed in the windows. It was spring. It was going to be a lovely day.

Kuroko made his slow, plodding way to the kitchen and found Kagami standing at the counter, bent over a bowl of cereal and milk. His spoon was sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he tipped the box of cereal to dump in more cornflakes, his other hand tapping the counter in time with the song on the radio. At Kuroko's appearance, he raised his eyebrows and took the spoon out of his mouth so he could speak.

"Your bedhead is still ridiculous, I see."

Kuroko glanced upward as if he would be able to see his own hair. All he saw was the messy fringe just above his eyes. He was sure Kagami was right, though. "Good morning, Kagami-kun," he mumbled, fighting down a yawn.

"Good morning, Kuroko." Kagami almost sang the words, still bouncing along with that pop song.

Kuroko stumbled the rest of the way to the counter and leaned against it opposite Kagami, watching him pour his cornflakes. "You like western-style breakfast?"

Kagami nodded. "You're not surprised, are you? It's just easy in the morning to have cereal and milk, that's all. But I wish Japanese grocery stores carried more than three kinds of cereal." He sighed gustily. "I really miss Captain Crunch."

Kuroko blinked. Kagami eyed him speculatively as he shoveled cornflakes into his mouth. "What do you want for breakfast? I bet you're traditional. Miso soup and rice? I'm sorry, I didn't set the rice cooker last night, but we can do that from now on, if you want."

Kuroko tilted his head. "That's kind of you to offer," he murmured.

Kagami shrugged. "No big deal. We'll go shopping after school and get the things you like. For now, what do you want? There's still leftovers from last night, or I can do eggs for you. I make a lot more than just boiled ones." He smiled at that, eyes sparkling, and nodded his head like he expected Kuroko to be in on the joke.

Kuroko was too tired to remember what Kagami was referencing. Probably some anime or movie that Kuroko hadn't watched. He narrowed his eyes and looked behind Kagami at the fridge. "Do you have natto?"

Kagami blanched and almost choked on his cereal. "You mean that weird soybean dish?"

Kuroko frowned at him. "It's not weird. It's traditional."

Kagami made a face. "It's rotten beans strung together with...rot."

"They're not rotten. They're fermented."

"They smell rotten. They smell like the feet of an entire basketball team after a really long, high-scoring game."

Kuroko squinted at him. "I know you spent a lot of time in America, but you're still Japanese. Didn't your parents introduce you to your native foods?"

Kagami shuddered. He jammed more cornflakes into his mouth as if to rid himself of the phantom taste. "I've had it before. I never learned to like it, and my dad didn't force me. So to answer your question, no, I don't have any natto hanging out in my fridge and making everything smell like noxious gas."

Kuroko looked down at the counter. He sighed, but he was too tired to be disappointed. He'd already been prepared to accept Kagami's strange quirks. This was just another one.

Kagami lowered his spoon into his bowl with a muffled clink. After a moment, he leaned forward and caught Kuroko's eyes. "Oi. I said we'll get what you like after school, didn't I? We'll buy some natto then, so you can have it tomorrow."

"But you said you don't want it making your fridge smell."

Kagami shrugged. "I'll get used to it." But his face looked pained.

Kuroko nodded slowly. If Kagami wanted to buy natto, that was all right. Kuroko wasn't going to push it, though.

Kagami watched him carefully for a moment, as if he was trying to figure something out. Then he pushed aside his bowl, making the leftover milk slosh around, and went to the fridge. "I'll make you some eggs. Scrambled. Ketchup on top. You'll like it."

"You don't have to cook breakfast for me, Kagami-kun. I can just have cereal, like you."

Kagami shook his head. He was already setting ingredients on the counter and pulling a pan down from a cupboard. "I want to. You need nutritious food. You've lost weight. Eggs are full of nutrients. And it will only take a few minutes, so it's no trouble."

Kuroko didn't quite believe this. If it was no trouble, why didn't Kagami cook eggs for himself instead eating an "easy" bowl of cereal? But Kagami seemed determined, focused on his task, so Kuroko let it go. He leaned on the counter on his forearms and watched Kagami work.

Kagami moved around the kitchen with the grace of Aomine on the court, effortless and controlled, not a second wasted. It was like watching a well-practiced dance, and it was beautiful in its way. Kuroko rested his head on his arm and let his eyes glaze over. If only he could sleep here, for just a few minutes. He was still so tired...

A plate of steaming food appeared in front of Kuroko's face, and he opened his eyes and pushed himself to his feet, staring down at it. Kagami grinned and pressed a pair of chopsticks into his hand. "Eat up! Let me know how you like it."

"Thank you for the food," Kuroko murmured. Now that the scrambled eggs were right in front him, their delicious smell wafting through the apartment, his mouth began to water and his stomach growled. It was something of a revelation. Kuroko hadn't felt hunger like this for days and days.

The food was as tasty as it looked. As Kagami had promised it would be. Kuroko ate every bite, then had to refrain from licking the plate. He looked at Kagami with wide eyes, and Kagami grinned in return. "Told ya you would like it."

"I did. Very much." Kuroko set the plate down on the counter, then gave Kagami a bow. "My sincere compliments to the chef."

Kagami chuckled, warm and pleasant. When Kuroko straightened and faced him again, his eyes were sparkling. "Ah, Kuroko. There's color in your face again. You've been... Well. You're always pale, but lately it's been too much. It's good to see you looking better."

Kuroko raised a hand to his face and touched his cheek, as if he could tell the difference by feeling his skin. It was true that he felt better than he had when he woke up. Steadier. Stronger.

"You still don't look back to yourself, though," Kagami went on, eyebrows lowering in concern. "I guess you won't, not for a while. But we'll keep working on it."

Kuroko nodded.

Kagami glanced at the clock on the stove, blinking digital numbers like the countdown of a bomb. He sighed when he saw how late it was. "I wish we didn't have school today."

"At least it's Friday."

Kagami looked back to him. "You don't have to go, though. I can take a message that you're not feeling well. It wouldn't be a lie. I know you need more rest. You look done in, and you just woke up."

Kuroko shook his head. "I'm fine. I've felt much worse on other school mornings, and I still made it through the day."

Kagami frowned. "But you don't have to do that anymore. You don't have to force yourself."

"I want to go to school," Kuroko said, almost loudly, and then had to blink at the sound of his own voice.

Kagami raised his hands in surrender. "All right, all right. Whatever you want."

Kuroko leaned down on the counter again, burying his face in his arms to hide his shame. That wasn't really what he'd meant, but it was all he could say.

I want to be normal. I want to have classes and basketball practice and go home satisfied in the evening. I want to spend time with my friends and my classmates and my team, see their smiles and hear their laughter. I want to give what I can, whether that's a mediocre reading when the teacher calls on me or one of the passes that only I can do in the game I love. I want to be whole and human and myself, not this shadow of a shadow I've become.

He had no words to convey this. Perhaps Kagami understood, anyway. Beyond the darkened shelter of his arms, Kuroko could hear Kagami moving around the kitchen, rinsing dishes in the sink, wiping the counter and the stove. His movements were gentle and his footsteps were light. He did not try to force Kuroko out of his sudden funk, just gave him space and time to work through it.

After a proper interval, Kuroko drew in a deep, bracing breath and pushed himself upward off the cool surface of the counter. Upright, he swayed, blinking as his vision adjusted to the bright morning light again. Kagami paused to look at him, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

"Feeling a little better?" he asked.

Kuroko nodded. "I should...get dressed for the day."

Kagami's eyes held him where he was, piercing and inescapable. "Would you like me to..." He hesitated for a split second, then plunged on. "I could treat your back again, if that's okay. I know it must be still hurting you."

Kuroko held very still for a moment, considering. Then he nodded. "Yes, please. But... Let's get ready for the day first. Then...right before we leave. Please?"

Maybe that would help. Maybe the memory of that kindness and care, right before Kuroko had to leave this place of shelter to face the world again, would help brace him through the day. Kuroko would take every bit of extra strength he could gather. He knew he would need it.

Kagami nodded. "Sure. Whenever you want. Just say the word."

By the time they settled on the floor in the main room again, Kuroko shirtless and Kagami with the tube of pain-relieving gel, this was almost starting to feel routine. Kuroko was much more relaxed this time, though he couldn't help the remnants of tension that stiffened his shoulders and bowed his back. Kagami was just as kind and careful as the first time, again chattering about nothing in particular to provide distraction.

Afterward, Kuroko put on his uniform shirt and jacket without assistance. They stood, neither looking at each other in an attempt to relieve some of the awkwardness. Kuroko found that his hands were fidgeting at his sides, as if they needed to do something. He couldn't help the feeling that they were forgetting something, that the task was not completed...

A spark lit in Kuroko's mind, and he turned to face Kagami. "K-Kagami-kun..."

Kagami looked back at him, eyebrows rising. "Yeah? What is it?"

Kuroko eyes fled to the side, his face flaming. His hands clenched into nervous fists, then lowered to his sides. "I... Would you..."

"Yeah?"

Kuroko glanced up and met Kagami's eyes for a bare second, before his gaze slipped away again, unable to hold that fierce stare. "Could you... Please... Hug me again?"

Kagami was silent for a second. "Really?"

His voice was shocked. But it was not displeased. At all.

Kuroko dared to look in his face again. "Please. I'd like you to give me a hug, if you don't mind."

And Kagami grinned, wide and soft and happy and bright. "Of course! As many as you want."

Kuroko nodded. Kagami stepped forward and wrapped him into his arms again. Standing, the height difference between them was more pronounced. Kagami turned his face and rested his cheek on the top of Kuroko's head. Kuroko wrapped his arms around Kagami's waist and did his best not to feel like a very, very tiny child.

As before, Kuroko felt himself taking strength from the contact, as if it was flowing directly from Kagami's spirit and into his own. He did his best to resist the feeling of guilt that overshadowed him, the sense that he was a parasite and a leech. He couldn't help the way he felt almost entirely dependent on Kagami right now: for comfort, for clarity, for the fortitude to make it through another day. It was a bad feeling and he didn't like it, but it couldn't be helped.

Besides, Kuroko couldn't truly be a parasite, because Kagami did not seem weakened at all by what was being taken from him. Rather, it was freely offered, a gift from an overflowing heart. Kagami had plenty and to spare.

Kuroko couldn't feel guilty for that. A tree was not a parasite to the sun.

Kagami waited until Kuroko let go first, loosening his arms and stepping back a bit in Kagami's careful hold. Kagami let him go, let him retreat, though he watched him careful eyes. "All right?" he asked.

Kuroko nodded. If he wasn't ready now, he never would be. "Let's go to school."

One more day. He just had to get through one more day. Kuroko had been telling himself the same thing for weeks now. But today, it didn't feel like a lie.