trash heap

“It keeps your hair in check, in any case,” Sawamura says. He gestures with one pale, translucent hand at Kuroo’s forehead. It’s dark all along this road, but for the beaming lights of the konbini storefront and Sawamura, glowing like moonlight. Still as young and handsome as Kuroo remembered, just a bit more ethereal now. A bit less grounded.

“Yeah, but it makes the cowlicks worse when I take it off.” Kuroo’s voice is steady, to his surprise.

“I didn’t think that was possible.”

“A limitation of your imagination, Sa’amura-san.”

“I suppose so.”

“So,” Kuroo says, dragging out the word. “This is new! Taking a little postmortem stroll around Japan? Where have you been so far? See anything good?”

Maybe if he acts like this is normal, things will make sense again and his brain won’t shatter. Or he’ll just go insane that much faster.

Sawamura shakes his head, amused by Kuroo’s valiant attempt at nonchalance. He floats a little closer; Kuroo wants to reach out and touch him. “Not really. You were my first stop; I thought it might be fun to visit you.”

Kuroo blinks. “At two in the morning?”

“Sorry, is this an inconvenient time for you? Should we reschedule this haunting for a little later?”

Kuroo laughs at the unimpressed look Sawamura sends his way. Still so sassy, even as a ghost.

God, what are they doing here? Is this even real? Or did Kuroo trip on his way down the stairs and fall into a coma without knowing it? Is there any explanation more logical than the conclusions he’s jumping to?

“Is that what’s happening? You’re haunting me? That’s a bit unfair. What’d I ever do to you, Sawamura?”

Sawamura grins back, floating all the way over to hover by Kuroo’s side as he begins walking back to his apartment. If they’re going to have a conversation, might as well do it somewhere warm and comfortable. Kuroo doesn’t explain where they’re headed, but Sawamura doesn’t ask, content to just go along with it. Even in the past it had always felt natural to fall into step with one another. No need to waste words when they somehow knew how to read each other’s body language fluently enough to translate without thinking.

“What didn’t you do to me, is the real question. I have a whole list of complaints, Kuroo. It’s why I came so early in the morning; it’s gonna take me until at least breakfast to get through all of them.”

“I hope you’re not expecting me to cook for you, too. I only have one egg.”

“And you’re not offering it to your guest? I didn’t take you for the stingy type.”

“Take pity on me,” Kuroo whines. “I’ve got tests to grade and and club activities tomorrow. I need the energy. Which reminds me, I’m also hoping you don’t expect me to stay up all night. I have to wake up in a few hours.”

“You’re so high-maintenance,” Sawamura jokes as they ascend the stairs to Kuroo’s place. “I should’ve chosen an easier target. But seriously, you can sleep first if you want. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Kuroo gets to putting his purchases away once he lets himself inside, while Sawamura peeks curiously around his not-very-interesting apartment. Sawamura seems preoccupied with the photographs on Kuroo’s wall, so Kuroo leaves him be for a moment to go change back into his pajamas.

“Are you saying you’re going to watch me sleep?” Kuroo asks while Sawamura scans his bookshelf. Sawamura turns to see Kuroo vigorously brushing his teeth, and shakes his head.

“Not unless you want me to,” he says with a laugh, and then floats over to the window. “Go to sleep, Kuroo. I’ll be back tomorrow; we’ll talk then.” His form grows thin as he passes through the glass and then Kuroo is left standing alone in his apartment with toothpaste froth on his mouth, wondering if he just had a really weird fever dream. Because, what? Just happened?

Kuroo shuffles blankly back to bed and slides under the covers. There are too many words forming into too many half-woven questions; they tumble around his brain without direction. For some time he just lies there, staring at the ceiling and the dark, until an uneasy sleep overtakes him.

--

True to his word, Sawamura is back five hours later when Kuroo is packing up his bag for the day.

“You came back,” Kuroo says as he watches Sawamura fall back into place beside him, like it’s natural to belong there. It doesn’t feel as wrong as it should. Kuroo may have grown too accepting in recent years.

“Of course I did; what kind of ghost haunts someone for just twenty minutes?”

“I did think it was kind of a letdown, but it felt rude to mention it.”

“And everyone knows that you’re never rude, right?” Sawamura teases as they walk to the train. Kuroo has headphones in – the kind that also function as a microphone, so that he at least looks like he could be talking to someone on the phone. The train is crowded this morning, so Sawamura floats up to sit atop the baggage rack, to avoid phasing through anyone. Kuroo stands facing up toward him, gripping a hand strap and pretending to look at the screen announcing the next stop, but their eyes keep catching on one another’s, and they exchange sheepish smiles.

When most of the morning crowd clears out, they move over to an empty corner so Sawamura can stop perching like a cat about to strike.

“So, are you back on unfinished business?” Kuroo asks, like they’re discussing weekend plans. He’s seated, looking up toward Sawamura, who shifts out of people’s way as if he still has solid mass. He still smiles at children and the elderly like they can see him. But sometimes Kuroo catches him watching people with a certain intensity that feels unfamiliar. Maybe being dead makes the world look a little different.

Sawamura returns his attention to Kuroo. His hand is resting against the wall as if to brace himself and Kuroo has to wonder absently about how the laws of physics apply to spirits. “Mm, I wouldn’t quite put it that way. I’m just here to hang out for the day.”

“Did- um. Did you want to see something in particular? I have work today, but we could go somewhere afterwards.”

“No, I didn’t come expecting you to provide entertainment. I just thought I’d drop in and see what you get up to these days. If that’s okay?” He looks momentarily lost, and Kuroo quickly shakes his head.

“Yeah, you know I’m always up for fun. I gotta tell you, it’ll probably be kinda boring for you, but if you don’t mind chilling out and making fun of my students, then let’s do it.”

“Let’s do it,” Sawamura echoes, with the same brightness in his eyes Kuroo remembers from across the court. Phoenix fire and marble.

Behind and through him, the world blurs green and powder blue outside the train window. It’s a beautiful day.

--

Kuroo’s homeroom class is rowdy and clever and terribly annoying this morning. It takes a while to get them settled, and by the time he leaves them for his first class, Sawamura already knows them too well.

“You knew what you were signing up for when you became a teacher, right? Was corralling your team not enough for you?” Sawamura asks during his free period. Kuroo just spent the last hour going over last week’s test and listening to a whole lot of groaning. He’s marking more exams now as he sips his milk tea; Sawamura leans against his desk and looks around at the other teachers too busy to pay mind to Kuroo basically talking to himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; Nekoma was team of pure, good-hearted angels. Now, if I’d been in your shoes, then I probably wouldn’t have wound up here.”

“Oh, you would’ve gotten a handle on them eventually. Just like you’ve got these ones under your wing. I have to say, you’re a lot better at this than I expected.”

“Thank you a million times over for your faith in me,” Kuroo says dryly. “What do you think Amagi wrote here? An eight? An ugly five?”

“Looks like a five to me,” Sawamura says. “Give her the full points.”

“You’re too soft,” Kuroo tsks, and they finish grading in this same manner for the rest of the period.

Kuroo doesn’t wonder at the fact that no one else in the school can see Sawamura. He assumes it’s because Sawamura has no ties to anyone else here, or that it’s because of some other ghost business that Kuroo doesn’t understand. Sawamura does accidentally float through another teacher at one point, and she sneezes right afterward.

They spend lunch outside, watching students milling around in little clusters. Somehow it feels easy to be together like this, despite all the oddities of the situation. Sawamura asks after all the old group, and Kuroo tells him everything he knows, though he has to apologize for not keeping up as much with all the ex-Karasuno members. Sawamura just laughs, telling him that knowing anything at all is more than he really expected.

“Do you have any good tricks?” They’re watching a crowd of kids exchanging flirtatious banter, and it makes Kuroo want to play a prank on them.

“What am I, a dog?”

“I’m just saying, ghosts usually have some fun powers. Like telekinesis.”

“Nope, I’ve got nothing.”

“Boring,” Kuroo says with a pout, and Sawamura rolls his eyes, floating backwards until he’s hanging upside next to Kuroo’s head.

“Yeah. I went to the afterlife and all I got was this lousy intangibility,” he says, and Kuroo feels suddenly guilty. Sawamura is literally dead and here Kuroo is, making a stupid joke about it.

“Shit, that was insensitive. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’ve gotten pretty used to being dead. Don’t feel too bad. C’mon, tell me which of your kids is the most likely to embarrass themself in the next five minutes.”

Kuroo gladly latches on to the change in subject. “Oh, definitely Sakurai. Watch, when he goes over to Kanda…”

The day is uneventful as far as school days go, but Sawamura never seems bored, even when he keeps relearning the same math lesson over and over. By club time he seems even livelier, floating around in amusement as Kuroo oversees the Exercise Club. The small group of students are doing stretches and jumping rope in the yard.

“Before you ask, yes, we do play volleyball sometimes. I put up a net outside when the weather is good.”

“Do you ever play?”

“Yeah, but not for long because they start complaining about uneven teams,” Kuroo says, keeping an eye on a girl chasing her friend around with her jump rope.

“Play six on two. That would even things out.”

“Too much, maybe. I’m not that fit anymore.”

“You still look pretty good to me,” Sawamura says with straight-forward honesty. Kuroo’s heart skips a beat until he follows it up with, “I mean, your face is what it is, can’t do anything about that, but the rest isn’t bad.” He gestures broadly at Kuroo’s body.

“I see you haven’t gotten any more charming since I last saw you,” Kuroo snarks back, and Sawamura laughs. He looks like he wants to bump his shoulder against Kuroo’s, but they both know it’ll just be a reminder that this can’t last.

“It’s hard enough for people to change as it is; us dead guys are totally stuck in our ways.”

--

After club wraps up, Kuroo returns to his desk to send out a few emails before calling it a day. They’re standing at the train station again, waiting to return home when Kuroo thinks to ask, “Are you sure you don’t want to go do something? Normally I just go home and crash on my couch after dinner, but it’s Friday evening, and you’re in town.”

“Are you saying you wanna go out?”

“I mean, it seems like a waste for you to come all this way just to watch dumb reality tv with me while we eat takeout. Uh- while I eat takeout.”

Sawamura shrugs. “To be honest, that plan sounds just fine to me. But maybe you’re right. I only have twenty-four hours. I should probably make them count.”

Twenty-four hours? Kuroo wasn’t aware of this.

“Is that when you have to go back? To the, uh,” he makes a sweeping motion with his arm and probably makes everyone in the vicinity want to avoid him, “the great beyond?”

“Yeah, I could only afford a one day pass,” Sawamura says like he’s joking, but Kuroo’s chest seizes painfully anyway. If he had known, he wouldn’t have kept Sawamura here, hanging around aimlessly instead of using his time for better things. Before he can get all tangled up in guilt, Sawamura puts his hands in his pockets and asks, “So what should we go do?”

Kuroo had found it a not-unwelcome change to return to the countryside once he graduated from college. The slower pace of life, the abundance of nature everywhere, the wide open spaces and quaint houses tucked among the foliage. He kept his house closer to the town center, preferring to commute over to his school, and it’s worked out well enough for him so far. The downside is most places of interest are at least a few train stops away. He thinks for a moment about where they could go on such short notice, where Sawamura might actually enjoy himself.

“We’re close to the water,” Kuroo finally offers. “It’s a little cold this time of year, but the shore is pretty nice.”

Sawamura doesn’t take more than a second to think about it. “The beach? Sure, why not. Take me to the beach.”

They have to ride into the main station before changing lines, and by the time they make it to the ocean, it’s early evening and the sun is starting its descent. There are few people around; the April weather is pleasant but growing rapidly cool now that the day is coming to a close. It leaves Kuroo space to openly talk to Sawamura without looking too strange – insofar as a man alone at a beach is ever strange.

“Do you swim?” Sawamura asks as they walk along the shoreline. His not-quite-there feet swish through the water that crashes gently against the white sand. The foam tickles at Kuroo’s bare feet, and he hops a step further from the water. It’s a touch too cool for his skin.

“Yeah, though it’s been a while. I used to go on beach trips with Kenma’s family all the time when we were kids. We’d have matching floaties,” he says with a laugh as he remembers the time Kenma got a sunburn on his shoulders and was cranky for weeks.

“I can see that. You used to splash him while he was huddling on the beach, I bet.”

“You know it. Were you a swimmer?”

“Not really, but now that I can’t do it, I feel like I miss it? That’s how it goes, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll swim twice as hard next time; you can live vicariously through me.”

Sawamura shakes his head with a smile. “Sure, you do that.”

After walking to the cliffside, Kuroo jogs back the way they came, trying to beat Sawamura back to his shoes, but ghosts can fly surprisingly fast. He collapses into the sand afterward, wheezing as Sawamura laughs at him. Since neither of them are equipped to go swimming today, Kuroo settles for making a damp, slouchy sandcastle as they talk about the current Nekoma team under Coach Naoi’s instruction.

The sun is near the horizon now, a deep molten core streaking the indigo waves with gold. Sawamura sits across from Kuroo so that the sunset shines through him, and Kuroo’s words stick in his throat for a moment when he notices.

He’d never gone to the beach with Sawamura while he was alive. There was never time, just like there was never time for any of the other thousand things Kuroo regrets not taking a chance on. Taking that art class in university. Going skydiving with Bokuto. Asking Sawamura out for a drink.

It isn’t like Kuroo had burned for Sawamura. Or tore up flowers and sheet music and journal pages trying to capture some fraction of the feelings he felt for him. Nothing ever so far-reaching or soul-wrenching.

But he had always thought that perhaps there was a greater than zero chance they might someday find their way to each other. Two lines not quite parallel, that might meet somewhere down the road, once they’d stretched far enough in the same direction. Sawamura had occupied a place in Kuroo’s life that no one else could fill – some cross of friend, rival, and if-only.

It was fondness folded into a summer daydream: wispy and weightless, with no expectations, but a whole quiet world of possibilities. And then all those possibilities came to an abrupt halt, and that was that.

Sawamura had never been his to lose. But Kuroo had hurt, nonetheless.

“Kuroo, help me dig up that little thing right there,” Sawamura says, interrupting Kuroo’s spiraling thoughts. His translucent hands comb against a shining patch of sand.

“Here?” Kuroo crouches down and scrapes his fingers through the spot Sawamura was just touching. He unearths a chunk of green sea glass the size of a stamp, and rubs it clean of sand. “Oh, nice find!”

It’s a lovely mossy color, frosted and worn soft to the touch. Sawamura runs a pale fingertip over the surface and then withdraws, floating a few feet into the air.

“Sorry, I can’t buy you anything, so that’ll have to do for a souvenir of our trip.”

“That’s more than good enough for me,” Kuroo says, finding himself stricken by the expression on Sawamura’s face.

He looks like he’s at peace, smiling at Kuroo with the same fondness he’s seen directed at Hinata or Suga or Tsukki. The sea glimmers dark like gold-embroidered velvet through him, but he looks and sounds so heartbreakingly familiar in this moment that Kuroo thinks he could forget about the last five years if he were to close his eyes.

Forget the way his heart stopped cold when he first heard the news. Forget how serious and still Sawamura’s face had looked in his memorial portrait. Forget how he had ached, sitting there with Kenma as they watched Hinata on the international court, knowing that there was someone who would never get to feel that pride when looking down at the court.

It’s past six p.m. now. Kuroo only has Sawamura again for today. This short, unsatisfactory slice of time. Eight hours left, and Kuroo doesn’t know how he’s going to say goodbye at the end of it.

--

It’s a quiet ride home, and then Kuroo brings them to a hole-in-the-wall yakitori place where he likes to grab a bite to eat after long days at work. They get a tiny booth to themselves, and Sawamura watches with patient amusement as Kuroo eats.

“What food do you miss most?” Kuroo asks, because he always loses track of his tact when he’s tipsy, and because Sawamura has proven to be awfully nonchalant about no longer existing.

“Actually, I think it might be yakiniku. Part of it probably has to do with the atmosphere; y’know, sitting around a table with your friends, fighting over the last piece of beef.”

Kuroo can see it, especially after that last day of training camp. God, they’d been so young then. Even now, he can imagine how it would be: Sawamura, crowded in his seat up between Azumane and Suga, arguing with Bokuto over the next piece of meat, making sure the pork is cooked just the way Kuroo likes it.

Kuroo waves his skewer in the air like an addled conductor. “Next time…the next time we do yakiniku, I’ll put a plate aside for you. I’ll even buy you a drink,” he promises drunkenly. “Come back and join us.”

“Well, I can’t say no if you’re going to be so generous.” Sawamura rests his chin in his hand, watching Kuroo with undivided attention. With the smoke in the air and the lights gleaming dimly against the wooden walls, the space feels suddenly intimate, and Kuroo takes another deep swig from his beer.

What if he had asked, one of those dozens of times he wanted to? Would they be sitting in a restaurant together on a night much like this one, laughing at each other’s jokes and flirting lightly as they wait for the check? Would Kuroo finally know more of Sawamura’s touch, beside those fleeting handshakes and hugs shared over the years?

Could Kuroo have changed the path of Sawamura’s life? Or do all roads lead to the same destination – with Kuroo mourning Sawamura as a lover instead of a friend?

There are no answers at the bottom of his bottle, but he drinks as if there are. Sawamura doesn’t comment, but he does pull the conversation back toward easier matters: Kenma’s promotion, Kai’s wedding, Yaku’s visit last month. Kuroo focuses on telling the best stories he can, because he thinks that if his mouth stops moving he’ll fixate on how Sawamura’s hand always rests close enough to touch, but never close enough to feel.

It’s approaching midnight when they leave the restaurant, and Kuroo takes Sawamura on the meandering path home. There’s a small park near his apartment block, and Sawamura insists that he take a seat on the bench for a moment to find his balance when he almost trips on the sidewalk.

“C’mon, I thought you could hold your liquor better than that.”

“ ‘m not even drunk anymore,” Kuroo grumbles. He slumps down, legs outstretched, and lets his head loll back. “I just get a little clumsy when I’m tired these days.”

“I don’t believe it,” Sawamura says brightly. “Not with those reflexes of yours.”

“Hey, lay off, I’m getting old!”

“You’re still in your twenties; don’t act like such a geezer.”

Kuroo pulls a face. “Not for long, I’m not. I’ll be using a cane soon. You’ll see.”

“Don’t be in such a rush to grow old. You’ll get there eventually.” Sawamura, seated on the bench beside him, floats up a few inches so he can reach out as if to brush Kuroo’s fringe out of his eyes. Of course, he only passes through Kuroo’s face like a winter breeze, but Kuroo gives him a watery smile back anyway. This is a tenderness neither of them is used to, but it feels like it’s been overdue. If only for tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll sit outside my house and yell at my grandkids’ friends when they come around.”

“At least offer them some snacks, you jerk.”

Above, the stars are brighter than they ever were in Tokyo, and Kuroo wonders if this is the sky that Sawamura used to see, looking out his window as they reached for the same dream. It’s easy to waste another hour just talking to Sawamura like this, because this is the relationship they always had, in those scant moments they shared together over the course of their friendship. Sawamura wasn’t lying when he said he just wanted to visit: it’s like he’s been dropped back into Kuroo’s life after a long trip abroad. If Kuroo were a little more idealistic, he would hope for another day like this, another chance to catch up a few years down the line.

But something in the core of his heart tells him this isn’t an ordinary occasion.

It’s a quarter to two when they finally reach the main street that leads back to his apartment. They pass by the konbini silently, and then the criss-crossing little residential streets until they’re standing only meters away from Kuroo’s building. Kuroo’s never been an expert on the supernatural, but he can feel the space around Sawamura growing blurred, like it wants to pull him back across the veil. He’s about to make an ill-timed joke about it when Sawamura stops them in their tracks and turns to look Kuroo in the eyes.

“Thanks for spending the day with me, Kuroo. I had a lot of fun.”

There’s a heavy finality in his voice. It fills Kuroo’s lungs with lead.

The alcohol is wearing off, but enough of that liquid bravery, like magma in Kuroo’s stomach, remains that he wants to say something stupid in response.

I mourned you.

I grieved for something I wasn’t even sure I understood. A lingering promise, a missed chance. A dream that faded before I could wake.

...I think I could have loved you.

But there are only a few fleeting minutes until Sawamura has to depart, so Kuroo will be civil. Kuroo will be kind, to both Sawamura and himself.

He intends to just accept Sawamura’s gratitude, but one question sticks in his mind so persistently that he’s asking before he can find the self-restraint to stop.

“Sawamura. Why did you- why come and see me? I know there are so many people who would’ve given- who would be delighted to see you one last time. So why choose me?”

Sawamura pauses, his mouth slightly parted as if to speak, before his expression shifts.

Years ago, lifetimes ago, there had been a morning in Tokyo, misty and gray, when Sawamura had stumbled into Kuroo’s corner of town and they spent a handful of hours together before he was expected at the airport. They’d done nothing exciting, but Kuroo will never forget it, if only because of the expression that Sawamura wore while they were waiting for the bus as the fog lay thick around them, blocking out the rest of the world.

Kuroo had long gotten used to being admired, or glared at, or sized up as an opponent. He’d seen all three cross Sawamura’s face in the past, though usually he met Kuroo with either amusement or teasing exasperation. In that moment, however, it had been something wholly new. Something Kuroo wasn’t sure he was reading correctly.

Sawamura was watching Kuroo like he wasn’t sure he was real, those dark eyes wide and wondrous. As if Kuroo was something special to behold, something not quite within reach. It only lasted a second, before Sawamura shook himself out of it and gave Kuroo that sly grin that he knew so well. But Kuroo could never get that sight out his head, letting it haunt him in sleepless hours.

It’s how Sawamura looks at him now.

“I just wanted to see you, I guess,” Sawamura says, eyes soft. After a second, he laughs quietly and ducks his head, in a gesture that feels painfully true to life. When he looks up again, his gaze is clear and focused, the way it always was on court. The way Kuroo remembers him best. “I wanted to catch up with an old friend. So, thank you. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”

They both know that they can’t.

Kuroo swallows, and it hurts his dry throat. “Y-yeah, of course. Just, uh, drop by or whatever. You know where to find me.”

“I do,” Sawamura says, laughing once more. Kuroo’s heart aches.

He wants to say something to prolong the moment, but if there’s anything he’s learned over the last day, it’s that any chance they had has long since been lost. Regret lies heavy in his bloodstream and his breath comes short when he inhales. Kuroo is pushing thirty now, settled in his life and happy about where he’s headed, and Sawamura?

Sawamura will never look a day past twenty-four.

Kuroo clenches his right hand, trying to remember how Sawamura’s palm felt against his, calloused and strong and searing. But nothing remains except the faintest sense memory.

He extends his hand regardless, knowing it can’t be the same.

“Goodnight, Sawamura.”

When Sawamura’s fingers brush against Kuroo’s palm, a chill runs through his skin and he tries to close his hand around the flesh that isn’t there. He gets a rueful look in return as the other man withdraws.

“This is where I tell you I won’t lose again, isn’t it?”

“And where I tell you we’d be happy to take you on again any time,” Kuroo agrees quietly.

“I think that rematch will have to wait.” And Kuroo can see his outline going threadbare.

Sawamura lifts his hand back into a wave, slipping backwards toward the light of the street lamp. The honey glow of the lamp intersects briefly with Sawamura’s own light, painting him angelic gold for a second, and for just this moment, with the veil of reality pulled thin, Kuroo can see the yearning clear as daybreak written in Sawamura’s eyes. Like a perfect mirror image to Kuroo’s own.

It’s instinct to step forward, reaching out toward Sawamura to try and touch him, to catch him before Kuroo can lose him, yet again, but already the distance is too wide. Sawamura smiles, even as he fades.

“Goodbye, Kuroo.”

And he’s gone.

Kuroo stares for a minute longer, willing the streetlight to shimmer and reveal Sawamura’s ghostly form again, but there’s nobody here on this road except Kuroo and a few sedate cars passing through. The whole world is quiet, giving him a moment of silence to find his breath, steady his heart.

The spring air embraces Kuroo with cold familiarity as he begins slowly walking up the stairs home, alone again. Above as below, the world spins on, once more without Sawamura. Kuroo unlocks his door, but stands there in the threshold for a long moment, just looking in. Finally, he takes a deep breath and steps inside.

“What do you want?” Kuroo demands as he whirls toward the shadows, trying to keep some menace in his voice because the picture he’s painting right now - soaked shoes, bedraggled hair stuffed under the hood of his police-issue raincoat, and both hands gripping his half unwrapped burger like a lifeline - is of a rather pathetic color. He’s off the clock. He wants to go home and take a shower until his fickle water heater gives up on him seven minutes in. He does not want to spend another night dreaming about clandestine meetings with a criminal out to steal more than just money.

Up on the fire escape, leaning forward like he’s genuinely excited to see Kuroo, is Corvus, feather-lined mask obscuring his face and the same somewhat threatening grin he always has on when he comes out to hassle Kuroo on his way home from work.

Kuroo is certainly not going to comment on Corvus’ spandex. The dreaded flush on his cheeks already says enough.

The smile on Corvus’ shrouded face softens from calculating to something more fond. “From you, a lot of things, officer. But tonight, I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

Kuroo pointedly ignores the first part of that admission, and debates the merits of ignoring the second part too. “Is it that you’re going to commit another jewelry heist? Or that you’ve somehow hacked another millionaire’s bank accounts? Because, yeah, I’d love the details.”

“There’s no fun in giving you too many clues, you know that. Especially when your detectives never appreciate the tips anyway.” Corvus leans on an elbow as he continues to regard Kuroo the way a falcon might watch its prey.

“Maybe if you could market yourself as a more credible source than ‘weirdo in tights that keeps hassling me outside convenience stores’ I’d actually be able to get somewhere.” Kuroo’s tried reasoning with the higher ups before, but the first few times his intel had been dismissed as coming from some crackpot trying to put in his two cents. He’d done his best to hunt down Corvus himself, but a uniformed officer like himself inevitably got turned away and redirected to guarding the perimeter.

By the time someone with half a brain put together the fact that Kuroo’s informant was always correct, he was told to contact HQ for backup the next time they met, and to do his best to detain the suspect until reinforcements arrived. Convenient how they forgot the fact that Corvus can fly, and Kuroo’s just a flatfoot with a flashlight and baton. Kuroo just about told them as much, because he certainly has no say in Corvus’ comings and goings, and their best bet is to just defeat him at his own game. It’s not like he doesn’t leave them plenty of breadcrumbs to try and catch him in the act. The department wasn’t exactly pleased with this response, but no way was Kuroo going to let them put a tracker and wire on him everywhere he went, either. So now Kuroo turns over any tidbits Corvus cares to leave him, and resigns himself to watching senior detectives running around like headless chickens at each heist, because no one trusts him enough to let him have a go at it.

“It’s not my fault your superiors aren’t smart enough to realize what an asset you are,” Corvus tuts at him.

“I’m barely an asset,” Kuroo grumbles. His hood is dripping rainwater into his eyes and he crams the rest of his burger into his mouth before it freezes over. “You just took a liking to me for some perverse reason.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. The only reason I chose you in the first place was because you almost caught me once. You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

Kuroo still reminisces about that chase sometimes, when he’s on desk duty and whiling the hours away waiting for someone to come in to ask for directions or report an illegally parked car. He’d seen the shape of someone taking off across the rooftops and done the calculations, figuring that Corvus would make for the closest building high enough to take flight from without getting tangled in the telephone wires and TV antennae. He’d been a few steps too late, close enough to get his hands on a fallen feather and to see the surprise in Corvus’ eyes as he launched upward into the air and away into the night. For a second, Kuroo had been close enough to perhaps touch him if he had leapt off the roof as well, and in the brief moment that they’d maintained eye contact some kind of understand had passed between them before Corvus lifted away. The feather, stiff-bristled and raven black, remains lying on Kuroo’s windsill besides his jade plant as a reminder of that night.

He had found himself close a few more times after that, but he never came as close as he had that first night. That is, until the thief himself started dropping in unannounced for the occasional late-night alleyway rendezvous.

“Anyhow,” Corvus continues, descending a step closer along the fire escape, “I didn’t come here to discuss the incompetence of your colleagues. I came here to warn you, officer.”

“About what?” Kuroo asks suspiciously. The last time, Corvus had given him a warning about being wary of where he placed his trust in the department, and sixteen cops had been busted for corruption soon after.

“Things are going to get heated in the next couple of days, and I’d like it if you kept that in mind during your upcoming patrols.”

“Heated how? Are you planning something?”

“I’m always planning something,” Corvus laughs, but he grows somber again right after. “But I’m also not the only person you need to worry about, am I?”

Which means there’s something going on with the other villains of Tokyo, and Corvus wants Kuroo to keep out of it. But Kuroo has a sworn duty as an officer of the law to stick his nose in where others don’t think it belongs.

“You know I can’t just let info like that go, crow-san.”

“Right, which is why I’m going to tell you now that it only involves people in my profession, and that getting civilians and police involved is the last thing we want. This is us moving against some of our own, and I’d really prefer if you kept yourself out of the action.”

Kuroo hesitates at this. On the one hand, it’s something HQ would definitely have interest in knowing, but as Corvus is implying, it might be more dangerous on the whole if they involve themselves in what is purely villain business. There are power shifts on occasion, alliances made between different criminal factions, and though Kuroo is pretty sure the police know about some of them, this upcoming operation sounds bigger than anything he’s heard of recently on the grapevine. It could upset the balance of the underworld in Tokyo, but he isn’t certain it’s something they should be meddling with. Perhaps it’s better to just see where things lie after the dust settles.

“It’s dangerous, then.”

“It probably will be,” Corvus agrees. “And it’d be such a shame for your handsome face to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Horrible line, never use it again,” Kuroo says with a scowl. He shouldn’t be the one getting flustered, dammit. Kuroo knows how to control a situation! He’s good at working people! So why can’t Corvus get with the program like everyone else?!

The bastard laughs at him. “You don’t have the higher ground here. You told me that I star in your dreams, officer.”

“That was said, to myself, in a moment of weakness! While drunk!” Kuroo squawks. He hadn’t noticed Corvus lurking in the darkness when he was slowly shuffling his way tipsily home. It wasn’t his fault.

“It’s okay, I thought it was sweet,” Corvus says with a kind voice, like he wants to reassure Kuroo about the state of their non-relationship. “A dream is a wish your heart makes, right?”

Ugh. “My only wish is to put you behind bars.”

“Ah, you’re saying matrimony is like a prison? That’s so pessimistic. You and I are both adults; we’d learn to compromise.”

Kuroo hates that he finds this charming. Corvus is the worst. “I didn’t even- you son of a- like I would ever marry- shut up,” is his witty response after sputtering for a second. He realizes he’s got his finger pointed angrily at Corvus like some kind of cartoon character, and sheepishly lowers his arm back to his side. “I’m not making any promises, but I could try and stay clear. I guess. If I have to.”

“That’s as good as I’m going to get from you, so I’ll take it. I’ll see you later tonight,” Corvus says with a jaunty wave before he begins ascending the rickety stairs back toward the roof. His wings twitch, fluffing some feathers back into place.

“What, you’re gonna stalk me home now?” Kuroo snarks at him, not really expecting an answer as he turns to go his own way, but the jerk is full of surprises. Leaning over the roof’s edge, Corvus cups his hands around his mouth and calls down.

“I meant I’d be seeing you in your dreams, officer. Save some of your sass for then.” With what might be a wink - Kuroo can’t tell from this far down - he takes flight.

Kuroo is left staring stupidly at the roof, a blush overtaking his face. There’s nothing he can even say, and certainly nobody to say it to, so he finally spins on his heel and starts the grim march back home.

That jerk.

--

The next day, Kuroo has a pleasantly calm time at work. He spends much of it taking down reports and going on a neighborhood patrol of the shopping street.

Before he leaves for the night Lieutenant Hanamaki pulls him aside.

“They’ve called off patrol at the wharf for the next week or so because of the staffing shortage, but the chief wants someone to take a last look tomorrow night to scare anyone off and hopefully keep them away. You’re up, Kuroo. Be here for night shift, okay?”

“Yessir. Don’t try to drink Matsukawa-san under the table again; you know it never ends well for you.”

Hanamaki barks out a laugh, and claps him on the shoulder as they exit the precinct. “You picked the wrong person to side with, Kuroo. I’ll remember this.”

Kuroo waves him off and sets out for his apartment. His stomach begins grumbling only one block down, and his usual nightly dilemma arises again. Takeout or home cooking? It doesn’t help that his favorite fast food places are just a couple of meters away.

Corvus is right about one thing. Eating as many hamburgers as he does can’t be good for his cholesterol. Kuroo sighs, knowing he should just go home and cook himself something decent for once, but his sight lands on a familiar face and he swings back into place like a turnstile. Another burger this week couldn’t hurt.

He slips into line, tugging his cap off his head and tucking it under his arm. His hair springs out in an unruly mess and he grimaces, but before he can do anything about it, the man in front of him in line turns around. His face lights up in cheery recognition.

“Sa’amura-san! They’ve got you working late at the courthouse again?” Kuroo asks him, gesturing at the shiny wall clock that indicates eight past ten. The light bounces off the plastic cover, with a general fluorescence to the whole restaurant that Kuroo finds both comforting and kind of irritating. Maybe it’s the orange floor tiles.

“Ah, Kuroo-san, I thought we promised we were going to make healthier choices,” Sawamura says, smiling at Kuroo. His briefcase is a little battered, and his tie slightly askew, but there’s still a put-together handsomeness to him that always has Kuroo stopping to say hello whenever they meet. Yaku has accused him of harboring a crush; Kuroo refuses to admit anything either way. He does quite admire the way Sawamura can put away a sandwich in five bites.

“We did, which is why I’m appalled to see you here.”

“You caught me red-handed,” and there’s a teasing edge to his words that makes Kuroo’s heart do a rollercoaster loop-de-loop. Yakkun has also hounded Kuroo about sucking up his pride and just asking Sawamura out on a date already, but he fears it might be a bit unprofessional, given the way their jobs occasionally intersect. Besides, considering his unfortunate track record with the city’s criminal element, Kuroo doesn’t want to give HR any more ammunition against him.

“Same to you. You’re not the only one who’s been on me about my health recently.” And why he just brought that up, Kuroo has no idea. Stupid attractive gentleman thieves and their stupid stupid concerns about his eating habits. Sawamura-san doesn’t want to hear about Kuroo’s strange problems.

“Oh? Mom on your case, too? Or a girlfriend?”

“No, nothing doting like that,” Kuroo says sheepishly, trying not to read too much into Sawamura’s expression when he denies it. “Just a meddling...friend.”

Sawamura nods sagely, as if he understands exactly what Kuroo is going through. “Well, let’s not let your friend down, then. Fast food only once a week from now on.”

“I’ll promise if you do,” Kuroo says, and Sawamura extends his hand with a smile.

“Shake on it. May we be cursed with more overtime if we break the vow.”

“Ouch, could you pick a less harsh punishment?”

“I would, if either of us had a life outside of work,” Sawamura says brightly, and Kuroo has to laugh.

“Okay, you’ve got me there.”

Kuroo was going to take his dinner to go, but after they receive their food, they’re both now entrenched in an argument about memory foam pillows which he certainly isn’t going to concede, so then of course they have to eat together, in a little plastic booth. Sawamura is a madman and dips his fries in his milkshake, which Kuroo will never let him live down. He gets teased in return for drizzling his ketchup directly into the fry container, which Sawamura claims creates more mess than it avoids.

“My arteries are already filing a complaint,” Sawamura says ruefully when they stand up to clear their table.

“I think my kidneys gave up on me a long, long time ago.”

Sawamura walks with Kuroo down the street a short ways before their paths diverge.

“It was nice to see you outside my job,” Kuroo says when they stop; Yakkun’s advice to “ask him out already, you coward,” echoes in his mind. But he can’t bring himself to do it, opting to say instead, “Hopefully I won’t catch you at any of our favorite restaurants any time soon.”

“I’ll try to keep that promise,” Sawamura says with a grin.

“Me too.”

“Have a good night, Kuroo-san. Maybe I’ll see you around court sometime.” The way Sawamura always says his name, with an almost deliberate stress, makes Kuroo wonder if he’s trying to hint at something. Like that he wants to be on more casual terms. It might really be time for Kuroo to ask him out for a drink.

“You too, Sawamura-san. Get home safe.”

On his walk home, Kuroo finds himself whistling the tune of some pop song he’s been hearing on the radio recently. There’s an unexpected amount of pep in his step; he would chalk it up to the easy day he had at work, but the honest parts of him - the parts that drove him to be a cop in the first place, he supposes - know that the last hour had more effect on his mood than he wants to admit to himself. He definitely has a crush. He definitely doesn’t think he’s in a place to do anything about it right now, even if the emptiness of his apartment seems to grow every time he goes home. He’s just too unprepared for this level of change. Maybe once some of the villainy in the city dies down, and he finally gets a decent night’s sleep.

At least tomorrow should be a cakewalk. The pier is quiet this time of year as exports slow slightly for the month, and the most Kuroo has ever done is shoo off seagulls and harmless wanderers with his flashlight. It’ll be a nice change of pace from downtown patrolling.

--

So, it turns out to not be a cakewalk.

Kuroo doesn’t even know who’s involved in this standoff anymore, because it’s like every damn supervillain in this horrible city has decided to congregate on the wharf at the exact same time in some sort of twisted community meeting. And here he is, trapped against a shipping container right in the epicenter of this shindig, hoping that no one wants to pay him any mind. Of course, there’s not a day that goes by where things decide not to go Kuroo’s way. He hadn’t even been trying to ignore Corvus’ advice, and yet he’s managed to get himself wound up all in the problem anyway.

“There was no fucking leak!” one of metalbending ones in green yells again. He starts crushing the corner of a different container until one of his team reminds him to calm down.

“Well, then who the hell is that?” someone asks for the third time, gesturing toward Kuroo’s box. Kuroo gulps and pretends he isn’t driven witless with fear, hand resting somewhere close to the walkie on his hip, but not close enough to make anyone nervous yet. There’s a good fifteen or so of Tokyo’s most infamous criminals gathered in a loose crowd all out of punching range of each other. From what he heard them saying before they were alerted to his presence, and came to warily surround him, it seems most of them are thinking it was about high time Kiryuu’s group gave up the monopoly on organized crime in the city.

“He’s just some poor beat cop suckered into the waterfront patrol.” Kuroo thinks that’s the voice of the Grand King, but he’s never seen the man in person before now. He’s dressed in the slick teal cape and long white gloves that Kuroo’s seen in his blurry photos at the station.

“I thought the twins took care of the guard? Where’d this other guy come from?” Ace, from the looks of it, given his signature silver hair and ridiculous build.

“I still think there’s a leak!”

“No one gives a fuck what you think!”

While they’re arguing, Kuroo tries to do the math on whether there’s any chance for him to run back to the guard booth at the beginning of the wharf. He had attempted to scramble away earlier but now he’s just stuck sprawled on his bottom, like a brainless gazelle, clutching his flashlight like a life preserver. The plain answer to his calculations is no; almost every villain in the city is powered to an extent, and though most of the ones here that he recognizes aren’t known for their violence, they’re all still criminals who happily ignore any laws that stand in their way.

“In any case, he’s still right here, and still listening in, so someone needs to deal with him before we can continue.” Kuroo is tempted to deny this out loud, but this isn’t the regular banter he shares with Corvus, who never really means him any harm.

“We could always kill him,” someone mentions offhand, and Kuroo’s skin crawls when he notices the bright red hair of the speaker. They say that anyone who crosses the Guess Monster while he’s working doesn’t come back in one piece.

The familiar sound of air creasing in bursts announces the arrival of someone Kuroo’s never been so glad to see before.

“No one is killing the cop,” Corvus says as he lands among the crowd, positioned so that he’s right between Kuroo and the others. His black wings flap once or twice more before he tucks them up against his back. “No one is touching him either, if you know what’s good for you.”

“What, you’ll flap us to death?” some fool with no sense of danger jeers. “Or steal our wallets?”

“Now, now, don’t test crow-kun unless you’re willing to deal with the fallout,” the Grand King says. He strides forward to drape his arms over the shoulders of Ace and Corvus, who just rolls his eyes behind his mask but doesn’t shake him off. “Now that our late little birdie has arrived-”

“Aren’t you the one who just told everyone not to test me?” Corvus asks, and the King shrugs, flashing Kuroo a smile for whatever nefarious reason.

“I’m just telling it like I see it. We’re all here, so why don’t we move this somewhere more private and do what we came to do?”

“Sounds good to me! We’ve already spent enough time hanging around,” Ace says, already striding off. “The west entrance should work; it gets chained up at night.”

“Wait, hold up. What do we do about the cop?” someone wearing a headband asks. “We can’t let him go.”

“We’ll leave him,” Corvus replies sternly. “He’s not a threat. He hasn’t even called in any back up yet. Have you?”

Kuroo shakes his head mutely, then wonders if he should have bluffed instead.

“We’re not gonna just leave him-”

“Why not? He hasn’t seen anything yet. What’s he gonna do, take us all down? He doesn’t look stupid enough to try,” the Grand King says, still looped around Corvus in a way that shoots a flash of annoyance through Kuroo, even though he shouldn’t have room to feel anything beside terror anymore. “I say we take the walkie and tie him up. Someone’ll find him in the morning.”

“I’ll do it,” Corvus volunteers quickly, stepping forward, but he’s stopped with a hand at his chest as the Guess Monster walks past, red eyes watching Kuroo with detached interest from beneath his mask.

“Now, you can’t have all the fun, birdie. Can’t the rest of us get a turn once in a while?” Kuroo notices the way Corvus stiffens but stops in his tracks, and his blood runs dry in his veins. Shit shit shit, Kuroo might just be about to die here. He should’ve called Kenma one more time. He should’ve eaten more burgers. He should’ve asked Sawamura-san out on a date.

“Hey. Don’t turn this into a bigger thing than it has to be,” the angry metalbending one says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t fret, you gorilla. I just want to have a chat with our new friend!” He crouches down in front of Kuroo, close enough to touch, and asks warmly, “You know who I am, right?”

“I have a pretty good guess,” Kuroo says, fascinated by the way the villain’s smile widens at the joke.

“Then you know what I can do to people who meddle in things they shouldn’t. You’ll cooperate with us, won’t you, little policeman? I would hate for Corvus to lose one of his pretty toys.” He leans in close, waiting for Kuroo’s answer.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, seeking guidance from above and around, and tells him, “No. You’re under arrest.”

Well. No one ever said Kuroo was good at keeping himself alive.

The Guess Monster tilts his head before barking out a laugh. With a movement so fast that Kuroo doesn’t even realize it’s happening before it’s half over, he’s ripped Kuroo’s walkie-talkie right off his belt and shattered it in his hand. Out of the corner of his eye, Kuroo can see Corvus jerk forward, only to be held back firmly by the Grand King. He has to resist the desire to shut his eyes, even knowing that his fate has been sealed. But when the Guess Monster reaches down, it’s not to stab Kuroo right through the heart, but to tear a long strip off the bottom of his own jacket.

“You’re a tough little kitten, aren’t you? I like that. No wonder Corvus favors you.” Before Kuroo knows what’s happening, he’s been yanked forward so that he flops dumbly onto the ground, and his hands are being bound behind his back. The Guess Monster steps away, leaving Kuroo lying face down on the asphalt. “No arresting today! You’re welcome to come back and try me again another time,” he says brightly, stuffing another ball of shredded cloth in Kuroo’s mouth before bouncing off. Kuroo is tempted to nip at his fingers, but his self-preservation instincts have finally kicked in.

With his face pressed into the ground, Kuroo can’t quite see what’s happening, but he hears footsteps headed off toward the west entrance, and then he’s alone for a long, long stretch of time.

His neck aches, his jaw hurts, and his back is definitely getting bent out of shape, but the cloth around his wrists is tied tight and he can’t struggle his way any closer to freedom. When he finally hears the sound of someone approaching, he almost yells in relief, until they kick him over so he’s lying belly-up and vulnerable. He recognizes the glare of the villain slinging around accusations of a leak earlier; his narrow frame looks familiar, but Kuroo can’t put a name to the masked face.

“You. How did you know we’d be here tonight?” he asks, digging his heel into Kuroo’s stomach. Kuroo doesn’t give him the satisfaction of wincing.

“Mmmph nnhg grmmg frmgg,” he responds, because there’s still a ball of jacket crammed in his mouth, and the villain scoffs. Reaching down, he lifts Kuroo clear into the air by the vest to look him in the eye, though with Kuroo’s height, his feet still drag on the ground. It should be frightening, but by now Kuroo is just so tired and irritated that it just bothers him instead. At the very least, couldn’t this jerk lift him a little higher so he could stop scraping his ankles?

The jerk raises his other hand, which is now aflame with green fire. He pushes it toward Kuroo, who cranes his neck back to avoid the uncomfortable swell of heat. “Look, you asshole, I know there’s no way you didn’t- hurk-”

Kuroo thinks he’s imagined it at first when a wave of black knocks his captor right over, until his bottom hits the ground. In front of him stands Corvus, wings spread wide and casting an inky shadow. His eyes are dark and unmoved, his broad shoulders squared and solid, and for a moment, Kuroo remembers that the person he’s unfortunately come to view as a casual frenemy is still one of Tokyo’s most infamous villains, even if he is just a thief.

“I thought I made it clear that the officer was off limits,” Corvus says, after having apparently wing-slapped the other guy hard enough to topple him to the ground. The way he says it is chilly enough to make the flame on the other villain’s hand to go out.

“But he-”

“Is there something about the way I said it that confused you? Do I need to clarify myself?”

Perhaps because they’ve just made some kind of alliance, or perhaps because there’s more to Corvus than even Kuroo knows - that only the underworld understands - the other man shakes his head and gets to his feet.

“No, s-sorry, Corvus. It won’t happen again.” He gets to his feet and scampers out of sight.

There’s a second when Corvus turns to look at Kuroo that he can almost see what the others see. The hard cast to his usually relaxed face makes a shiver run over Kuroo’s cold skin before his expression returns to the lightly amused smile he usually sports whenever he crosses paths with Kuroo.

“Oh, officer, you couldn’t listen to me even once, could you?” he asks as he tugs the gag out of Kuroo’s mouth and starts undoing the knot around his wrists.

Their conversation sounds nonchalant, but he can feel the slight tremors in Corvus’ hands as he rubs Kuroo’s wrists. Kuroo remembers that fleeting look of terror in his eyes as the Guess Monster strolled past him to speak to Kuroo, and understands that even Corvus hadn’t been sure how that encounter was going to end. He could’ve really died tonight.

Kuroo pats his hand and coughs a few times, trying not to lean into Corvus’ sturdy weight as his hands are freed. “I told you I wasn’t making any promises,” he quips weakly.

“You did say that. I guess it’s my fault for assuming it was possible for you to stay out of trouble. C’mon, let’s see how your legs are doing,” and he helps heft Kuroo to his feet. Kuroo grabs the strip of the Guess Monster’s jacket and pockets it to turn in as evidence later.

“Better than my arms.”

“Yeah, are you feeling any severe pain anywhere? Do you think you could hold on, or do your wrists hurt too much?”

“Huh? I mean, they’re kind of sore, but I think could probably- whoa!”

Corvus has lifted him up bridal style, holding him up against his broad chest, and Kuroo feels like a featherweight in his impossibly muscled arms, despite having a ridiculous amount of height on him. “Here, wrap your arm around my back,” Corvus says, and Kuroo does so mindlessly, resting his arm right above Corvus’ wings, before he realizes he should be wondering what’s going on.

“Wait, what are we doing?”

“I’m taking you home. I don’t feel comfortable leaving you to walk back after what happened tonight. Sorry, unless you’re not okay with this,” Corvus says, only now realizing how close their faces are, apparently, from the way he cranes his neck slightly away from Kuroo. Under the feathered mask, his skin is a shade pinker. In all the time they’ve known each other, Kuroo has never seen Corvus get flustered. It’s a pleasant change.

“What, being carried away by a known criminal?”

“Okay, in retrospect, I can see why this is an inappropriate offer,” Corvus says, lowering Kuroo back toward the ground. But Kuroo clings tighter to his neck, refusing to step off. This is a dumb decision. This is a dumb decision topping off a whole night of unfortunate circumstances, and Kuroo is a good cop, he really is. He knows better, but Corvus is right. He doesn’t really want to walk home alone after all this. And if that means getting way too cozy with someone on the wrong side of the law, Kuroo’s going to blame it on all the blood rushing to his head from being face down for over an hour, and the adrenaline that hasn’t yet left his bloodstream.

“I’m kidding. I trust you, though god only knows why. You’ve never given me reason not to before,” he says quietly, and Corvus pauses with him dangling awkwardly in midair before straightening his back and hefting Kuroo closer.

“You ever flown before, officer?”

“Not first class,” Kuroo says with a tired grin, and Corvus smiles back.

“It shouldn’t be too bumpy a ride, but I do need you to hold on tight. Give it a try,” he says as he lifts off, flapping so they’re several meters off the ground. Kuroo’s stomach swoops uncomfortably at first, until his body recognizes that he’s being held firmly in place and he can relax slightly against Corvus’ chest. His arms are weakened, but with the thief’s arm wrapped steady around his back, he has no fear of falling.

“This seems...doable. I mean, I’m not afraid of heights, but I am maybe a little afraid of...splatter? Getting smushed into the sidewalk?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you if you’ve got me, okay? I’ll stay low. Let me know if you feel like you’re getting tired.”

With several powerful bursts, he takes them higher, surging forward to take them away from the wharf and toward the city. Kuroo hears a weird whooping noise and then realizes it’s him, crowing like a kid seeing fireworks for the first time as Corvus carries them past the city lights and sleepless skyscrapers. He’s never seen Tokyo like this before, even though he’s lived here his whole life. The people wandering the streets even at this hour, the streaks of color left by car headlights. The air scrapes against his face, but it isn’t too rough, and though it’s cool against his skin, Corvus is more than warm enough to make up for it.

“Having fun?” Corvus laughs when Kuroo keeps swiveling around to take in as much as he can.

“Too much, I think. Times like this make me wish I was powered too. If I could fly- jeez, patrol would probably be a lot easier.”

“Well, I don’t know about that; you might get tangled in telephone wires and stuff if you need to chase someone down.”

“True,” Kuroo sighs. “Still, I’ll miss this. Thanks for the lift.” He turns so that he isn’t face first against Corvus’ chest. He might have to change his opinion on orange spandex after tonight.

“How are you doing?” Corvus asks when they’ve been flying for about seven minutes, and coming up toward Kuroo’s neighborhood.

“I’m great. But why are your arms so strong?”

“I work out,” Corvus replies dryly. “Hold on a little longer. I’ll drop you off at your building.”

“Should I be concerned that you know where I live?”

“You should be concerned about the window that you always leave open at night, instead.”

“Creepy,” Kuroo scolds.

“I try,” Corvus says with a modest nod of his head.

They land on Kuroo’s rooftop without incident, and Corvus gently lowers Kuroo to his feet, waiting to make sure he’s standing steady before stepping away. They look at one another for a moment, because some boundary has been crossed tonight that can’t be uncrossed, even when they fall back into their usual roles. Kuroo should say something, should ask about the meeting or whether Corvus is in any trouble for having a soft spot for a cop. But he wants so badly to just go curl up and go to sleep and forget about everything that happened until he needs to file a report tomorrow morning.

“I know you’re gonna have to write up what you saw tonight, but I think it’d be best for us both if you left out your ride home,” Corvus says as he walks backwards toward the roof edge.

“Don’t worry, the last thing I need is IA poking into my personal life because you just happen to like taking midnight walks in my neighborhood.”

Corvus grins, and ruffles his wings in a motion that Kuroo thinks might be an expression of amusement. “That sure would be inconvenient for them to know. Take care. Get some rest; you need it.”

“T-thanks,” Kuroo stutters out, as Corvus makes to take off. “For saving my ass out there. I wasn’t sure for a second- I think this would’ve ended really differently for me if you hadn’t showed. I’m sorry if that complicates shit for you.”

“It was nothing; I’ll be fine. They all know I don’t like when bystanders get hurt, and most of them respect me enough not to hold it over me unless they’re trying to start something.” His mouth twitches at the corner, and Kuroo thinks that he really underestimated the extent of Corvus’ reputation among the underworld.

“Uh, that’s good. I’m glad. I don’t want them to start thinking they can use me against you. I mean,” and Kuroo didn’t mean for it to sound like that, like he’s some kind of weakness of Corvus’ that can be exploited, as if he means anything more to the thief than weird work-enemy, “not that it matters, since we’ll be catching you soon enough anyway.”

“Of course,” Corvus says graciously, trying to hide his smile. “I’ll look forward to it. Have a good night, Kuroo-san. Don’t forget to close your window.” And he lifts off, wings spread like midnight against the glitter of the city lights, disappearing around the next building before Kuroo can think of a witty response.

Completely exhausted, he drags himself down the stairs to his floor and collapses into his apartment once his numb hands can finally get his key into the lock. The things he needs in order are food, a shower, and sleep. He completes the first two very, very slowly, but he does eventually manage to get both fed and clean.

It isn’t until he’s simultaneously brushing his teeth and trying to wrestle with the drapes that he recalls the exact words Corvus used before he left.

Have a good night, Kuroo-san.

The familiarity of the phrase hadn’t seemed odd at first, perhaps because Kuroo is still a bit addled from the night’s events, or maybe because he really has become far too comfortable with flirting with master thieves. Now, it sticks out in his mind as bright as a floodlight, and he almost lets his toothbrush fall out of his mouth in shock. The feather lying by his window gleams blue-black under the copper glow of his lamp.

Corvus only ever calls Kuroo “officer.”

Huh. How very interesting.

The first time was an open wound right above his still-beating heart, the pain so acute and bloody that the next twenty-nine years before he could meet his beloved again dragged on jagged and endless. The harvests from the first decade after losing him were spare and sickly. Daichi feels bad about it now, but he’d never been truly despondent until then. Not even Koutarou or Shouyou had been able to raise his spirits.

The second time was even harder. It took three years for Daichi to woo his beloved - this time, a stocky woman working in the stables of her village instead of the young blacksmith that Daichi had fallen for faster than the reddened leaves of a maple in November. Three years in her company, then three years her companion, and then she was gone before the last frost had lifted, along with half her village as the illness spread.

It took a quarter of a century to find her this time, reborn halfway across the world as the best sharpshooter in his village. Daichi dressed the leaves in ruby and flame, and brought with him harvest after bountiful harvest of golden corn and jeweled squash. They kissed for the first time beneath the bone-bare trees and the half-filled moon. They were happy. They made a life together.

But as the years passed, Shigeru and Kentarou began yet another sky-shaking argument, and when the rain meets the surge of the river, there’s nothing mortals can do but try to survive the resulting floods. Daichi’s beloved lost his life while carrying a child to safety, and for the better part of a decade, Daichi spoke to neither of his now-contrite siblings until the storm in his heart could subside, and he could feel his beloved’s soul return to the living plane once again.

The ninth time, he was a court scholar in the confidence of an emperor, and Daichi had to use all his godly tricks to create the chance to get close to him. The twelfth time, Daichi found him on the warm sands of a tiny island, the call of the ocean in his blood. But it had been too long; Daichi could feel the strain of half a century wearing on his darling, and as expected, he passed soon after their long-overdue meeting. The fifteenth time, she was a weaver under the apprenticeship of a master in her beautiful seaside town.

That life, Daichi had time on his side. They met young, and she was healthy and lived well. They should have had years together.

And then she was gone, because if there’s anything mortals know as well as they know love, it’s war.

So it would go, over and over again. Death, rebirth, the tireless search, and the heartbreak when, yet again, they would look upon Daichi with no recognition in their eyes. Every single time. Daichi would know that dedication, that cleverness, that loyalty and humor and gratitude and impossible grace, no matter the body they inhabit. But even if he remains completely constant, in both appearance and temperament, no human memory can carry his love across lifetimes.

By now, Daichi finally understands.

Keishin had tried to tell him, that even more than the pain of losing them stings the pain of knowing they have forgotten every shared moment, every secret told, every precious kiss. But every piece of suffering is worth it, for the moment that Daichi realizes, yet again, that his darling, the other half of his heart, loves him.

There will never be anyone else. And so it continues.

--

He buries her on a Thursday. Koushi has left his clouds behind to take his favored human form, and he stands close to offer comfort the best he can as Daichi receives the condolences of the other mourners. The sky is gray but clear, as it so often is in this country, and after the rest of the funeral procession has dispersed, he crouches to pat flat the dirt himself, feeling the lifeforce of every plant in the vicinity react to his touch. Overhead, the sun isn’t visible, but he can feel Shouyou’s power coursing through him anyway, the sympathy soaking into his skin.

“Why don’t you come home for a little while?” Koushi asks gently after a moment of silence. He helps Daichi back to his feet, and traces the wrinkles that have set into Daichi’s face after the last sixty or so years. “You’ve been living among humans for so long now, it might be good for you to let go of all this until it’s time to meet again.”

Daichi takes a last look at the cemetery, the stretch of gravestones along the grass, and feels a deep, inhuman tiredness sink into his bones. Koushi is right. He’s been playing mortal for too long. It’s time to return home.

He bends down to leave a final kiss on his spouse’s gravestone before he stands straight and takes Koushi’s hand. The wind thickens, whistling through the cemetery trees as their mortal forms dissolve. When the breeze fades, there’s no sign of them left behind, save for Daichi’s current name etched into marble alongside his beloved’s.

--

For the next couple of decades, Daichi remains earthbound. He travels around the world, trailing autumn with every step, and when he’s off season, he spends time with his siblings. There’s years and years of news and gossip to catch up on, and even more reminiscing to be done. He walks along crowded beaches with Tooru, and soaks up the moonlight under the star threaded sky with Kei and Keiji. He visits the mountaintops with Shinsuke, and the cliffsides with Aran. Daichi walks through his brother’s rolling fields, laughing when Wakatoshi frowns as he blooms a patch of his flowers too early. He sits high up in the trees next to Asahi as they watch the wildfires eat through another acre of dying forest. He drinks in the sensation of Kiyoko’s snow swirling into flurries around him, and he revels in the sound of Takanobu’s crystalline hail shattering against the frozen pane of ice on one of Kaname’s lakes.

It’s a time for healing, and reconnection. And he enjoys it, he really does, but one day he wakes, and he can feel it again. The call of his beloved’s soul.

He’s realized by now that it takes at least a decade after his beloved’s reincarnation before he can sense their soul again, and then usually several years before he can locate them among the ever growing number of people on the planet. On the rare occasions that he finds them before they’ve matured, he returns to the earth until some years on, when they’re adult enough to be making their own life decisions.

There are some lifetimes that his beloved does not choose him, or has already found someone else to share their heart with, and in those cases, Daichi goes graciously on his way, knowing that there’ll be time again for them to find one another.

It’s been past twenty years since his spouse passed on, and Daichi thinks it might be time to go searching again.

He’s told his sweetheart the secret of his identity exactly twice. It’s not so easy for mortals to believe in gods that walk among them anymore, and even harder to believe that they could share a love so enduring that they would return to one another time and again, so he keeps the truth hidden away. It’s difficult sometimes, to know more about his partner than they know about him, but each lifetime is different, and in the end, there’s always more to learn. Every lifetime is special; every lifetime is treasured.

This time, Daichi has a good feeling about his search. He decides to head out, putting himself in his early twenties to hopefully match his beloved’s approximate age once they meet.

Koutarou catches Daichi before he insinuates himself back into mortal life, tackling him to the ground in excitement.

“Hey, I wanna come along too! It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with humans, and this decade seems pretty fun.” He smiles down at Daichi, and Daichi can feel the crackle of electricity that runs constant in his veins.

“You want to tag along?”

“Yeah, we can say we’re brothers or something! You can show me all the awesome sports mortals play, and I can finally try cold cream!”

“Ice cream, Kou. It’s called ice cream,” Daichi says fondly. “And sure, you can come with, but we better pretend we’re just friends, so it’ll be easier to explain in case you decide you’ve had enough and run off again. I don’t like messing around with their memories if I don’t have to.”

“Alright, that works. Can we go to Japan first? I heard there were lots of great games there!”

“There’s video games everywhere, you know,” Daichi says, but he decides to just go with the flow. He has to start somewhere.

--

Koutarou loves Japan, though Daichi is fairly certain he loves every place he’s ever taken the time to visit. Given his nature, most of what he sees comes in quickfire flashes, and though he touches down on certain regions much more often than others, it’s rarely long enough to get a feel for mortal life there.

They settle into life in Tokyo, living in a small apartment together near a university that Koutarou decides he wants to try attending. Daichi thinks he’ll get sick of it soon enough, but gets them both enrolled anyway, hoping it’ll help bring him closer to his beloved.

He feels the pull of their soul so strongly that he thinks he must have lucked out and accidentally chose the correct country at the very outset. He should really thank Koutarou for the help if it turns out to be true. It’s been four months since they’ve begun their life in Tokyo, and Daichi still hasn’t made much progress yet, but he also feels so close that it doesn’t bother him. He’s waited much, much longer than this.

Koushi is visiting for a short time, and he and Kou exhausted themselves on karaoke last night, so Daichi sets out early this morning to get some food for them from the nearby konbini before they wake up. They’re not as used to their human forms as Daichi is, and sometimes they surpass the natural limits of their bodies, so out of pity, Daichi will play room service today.

He’s so busy grabbing handfuls of snacks and every kind of onigiri on the shelves that he doesn’t notice the surge in his connection to his beloved until he’s already paid and out the door. His bag is almost overladen with junk food, and he takes a moment to adjust the handles so he doesn’t drop anything, which is when someone comes stumbling right into him.

The impact isn’t very hard, but Daichi finds his chest suddenly wet with what smells like coffee, and then there’s someone else’s face right in front of his, looking embarrassed and apologetic.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize the cap wasn’t on all the way,” says the love of Daichi’s life when they meet for the thirty-second first time.

Daichi is covered in vending machine iced coffee, and his sweater is a size too big, because he forgot how he looks at the crisp age of twenty-two, and he’s probably making the stupidest face because his beloved has the same smile he did about nine centuries ago, but none of this matters because they’re together again, in the same time and place, and his suddenly too-human heart has forgotten how to beat.

“God, I’m not usually such a klutz, I swear. Here, let me help you,” Daichi’s sweetheart says, pulling a whole wad of napkins out of his convenience store bag and walking forward to begin dabbing at Daichi’s sweater.

“Oh,” Daichi says a beat too late, as the other man tries to mop the coffee off him. “Wait, it’s okay, I can take care of that later.”

“No, man, it’s completely my fault. At least let me pay for the cleaning fees.” He’s so earnest and responsible that it makes Daichi’s chest ache. Some things never change.

“No, it’s seriously fine. I’m just going to put it in the wash. But your coffee- it’s half gone now. I’ll buy you another one.”

“What? No, I’m the one who spilled on you! I’m not making you pay for anything.”

“Okay, well, let’s just call it even then,” Daichi suggests, trying not to be obvious about studying everything about him. Bright, knowing eyes, ridiculous hair, and a good ten centimeters taller than Daichi. Daichi would have loved him regardless of what he looked like, but he definitely can’t complain about this incarnation’s appearance.

“If you’re sure,” he says dubiously. “I still feel bad, though.”

Perhaps this is moving too quickly, but it’s a new generation, much different from when Daichi last dated anyone, so he decides he’s going to take a page from their book and just go for it. “Look, if you really want to make it up for me, I guess you can buy me a coffee when you get yourself another one?” Daichi says, hoping it doesn’t come across as too forward.

But his beloved’s expression brightens, and he gives a little grin, asking, “Really? Yeah, I could do that! Right now?” He gestures toward the vending machine behind him, looking so sweetly excited that Daichi already falls half in love with him even though it’s only been about five minutes.

“Sure,” Daichi laughs.

They walk back toward the vending machine, and his beloved stuffs his damp napkin ball back in his bag. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. Y’know, in case you wanted to call me something instead of ‘clumsy loser’ in your head.” He grins kind of sheepishly, then fumbles some change out of his wallet, hastily saying, “Or not. Feel free to forget that. And me.”

Daichi fights the urge to bury his face in his hands. His beloved is already so cute, he can’t stand it. As if he could ever forget that name now.

“Sawamura Daichi,” he finally says, letting a hint of his smile show as he sticks his hand out. “If you wanted to call me by my name. Because it is. My name, I mean. Yeah.” Fuck, this is a disaster. Why hasn’t a millenium of experience made Daichi any better at flirting?

“It sure is, dude,” Kuroo says as he gives Daichi a firm handshake. “So, coffee? Um, do you like hot or cold?”

“Hot for me, please.”

Kuroo buys them their drinks, and then they stand there together outside the konbini, sipping at their coffees while stealing glances at each other.

“So!” Kuroo finally says after a moment. “Do you go to uni nearby? I’ve never seen you around, but you look like a college student.”

“Yeah, I was living abroad for two years, so I only just started this year,” Daichi says, happy to have some point of conversation, and then they’re discussing schools and classes easily, like any two college kids might. Daichi feels so rusty at this, but he also feels completely at ease with Kuroo, especially when their conversation segues naturally into other topics, like clubs and hobbies and their lives. Daichi talks about Koutarou and Koushi, and his other siblings in vague terms, and learns that Kuroo is an only child this time around, but he grew up alongside a best friend whose parents are basically a second family to him. He played volleyball in high school, and he loves chemistry and biology, and when he graduates he’ll be attending medical school.

Daichi takes all this in, fitting in the new pieces with the familiar ones, knowing that he can already see himself living a full life alongside Tetsurou if he’ll allow it.

Their chit-chat comes to a natural lull, and Kuroo takes a second to look at Daichi’s face before he flushes slightly and scratches at his nest of hair, looking kind of nervous.

“Hey, I know this sounds completely crazy, but I feel like there’s something kind of familiar about you, if that makes sense. Like we’ve met before, even though I know I would’ve remembered you. Sorry- I’m just being weird,” he says with a laugh, when he notices Daichi staring.

“No,” Daichi chokes out. This has never happened before. Thirty times he’s gone through this, and never has his beloved shown any sign of recognition, until now. Is it a fluke? Is Kuroo just confused? Has something changed? “I- I, um, I totally understand what you mean. It feels like we could’ve already known each other? Maybe?” he stutters, and Kuroo nods.

“Yeah, like in another life or something,” he says thoughtfully, and Daichi just nods numbly back.

A sudden vibration on Daichi’s leg knocks him out of his daze, and he pulls out his cell phone to see that he’s been sent several whiny texts from the loafers back at his apartment who are wondering where their snacks are.

“Oh, I interrupted your snack run, didn’t I?”

“They can handle a few more minutes without food.”

“Yeah, but I should let you go; I’ve wasted enough of your time today already.”

Daichi nods, because he’s used to this taking time, and he’ll wait forever for Kuroo if he has to. “Thanks for the free coffee,” he says, lifting his can. “And...the free coffee.” He gestures at his shirt, and Kuroo gives him the dumbest, cutest laugh in response.

“You’re welcome for one of those things. Um, this is gonna sound so pushy, but.” And he pauses, ducking his head before looking back at Daichi. “I really feel like maybe we were meant to meet today? Ugh, that’s so cheesy- but- I guess I’m trying to say that it’d be cool if you wanted to hang out again sometime. Preferably without either of us throwing liquids at each other.”

Even if he weren’t already inextricably tied to Kuroo, those eyes would have won him over, Daichi is certain. As it is, his heart is in his throat at the thought of Kuroo somehow remembering one of their past lives together.

“That sounds great,” Daichi says, almost tripping over his words like he’s a teenager being asked on his first date, even though he’s the farthest thing from it. “I’d like that.”

Kuroo holds out his hand, and Daichi, confused, takes hold of it. Maybe casual handholding is what young people do now. It’s nice, to be able to feel Kuroo’s skin against his. It’s both new and familiar.

“Oh,” Kuroo says, his face turning pink. “Sorry, I was- I wanted to put my number in your phone. Not that this isn’t nice too.” Daichi blushes as well, snatching his hand away and dropping his cellphone into Kuroo’s waiting palm.

They trade numbers, both of their faces still stinging pink, and then hover awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of how to proceed.

“So, I’m sorry if the first thing I text you is a horrible picture of my roommate stuffing eighty pocky into his mouth at once,” Daichi blurts out to fill the distance between them, and Kuroo nods blankly back, before giving him a thumbs up.

“I’ll look forward to it. See you around, Sawamura.” He flashes Daichi a smile, the one he’s come to love time and time again, and Daichi lifts his hand to say goodbye.

“ ‘til next time.” Kuroo jogs off, but glances back once, perhaps just to see if Daichi is still there, and he gives a little wave. Daichi watches him go, until he’s gone from sight, and then he collapses against the wall of the store, looking up to the sky for answers in the clouds.

Kuroo Tetsurou. Daichi’s true love, here again. Reunited again, maybe in more ways than Daichi could have ever expected.

A soft breeze brushes around him, and Daichi takes it as Koushi’s reminder to get back to the apartment, so he hurries home with their food, even though the only thing on his mind is when he’s going to next see Kuroo again. It can’t come soon enough.