#kenma reader

           “Well…is it that Yamamoto kid?” she asked in horror, remembering the shy, stuttering first year who’d yelled some gibberish at her, “Or worse Yaku? He’s too short.”

           “Say that to his face, I dare you,” Kuroo laughed, throwing his head back, “You’re the same height.”

           “Whoever it is, the answer is no.”

           “Oh, come on,” he begged.

           “No. You have this meddling look and it makes me think of a bakeneko coming for my soul.”

           “I don’t see it,” mused Kuroo, leaning forward and staring at her intently. Her brow wrinkled.

           “What?”

           “What makes you attractive? You’re like the witch of the waste before she got ugly,” he said, dodging her hand as she swiped at him.

           The following Monday, Kuroo slams a Nintendo switch on her desk. Their game had ended in a win and Y/N was glad because it meant Kuroo wouldn’t be depressed and annoying, but now he was happy and annoying.

           “Thank you?” said Y/N, turning the device over in her hands. She switched it on, the familiar logo lighting the screen.

           “It’s not for you. Just hold on to it.”

           “Isn’t this Kozume-san’s?” asked Y/N. Kuroo snorted, resting his head in the palm of his hand. His gaze sharped as she spoke his friend’s name.

           “Kozume-san? He’s younger than you.”

           “He’s mature,” Y/N murmured, “Though, Fukunaga is as well sometimes.”

           “You’ve spoken to Kenma?”

           “No. Of course not,” she scoffed, loading Animal Crossing as she spoke, “He comes by the café sometimes.”

           “And you notice him?” Kuroo’s gaze sharpened, voice coming out in sly as a snake. She found she liked this side of him the least.

           “He doesn’t shout and never loses. It’s hard not to notice.”

           “You watch him long enough to know he never loses?”

           “Is this Kozume-san’s? He’ll be upset that you took it,” she looked up, giving Kuroo a light glare and handed him the Switch, “Give it back.”

           “And you protect his stuff? No wonder.”

           “Give me five minutes of peace Kuroo. I don’t have the mental energy to handle you right now,” she said, falling silent. He attempted to pester her for a moment longer, before giving up. She wondered what it was that had made him take Kenma’s switch away. Usually when Kenma stopped by her grandfather’s internet café, he took a seat in a corner and spent all day tapping away at the keys. She hadn’t lied when she said she’d never seen him lose. Y/N was good at video games from constant exposure, but she played them the way a child practiced piano---out of boredom and familial expectation. Kenma breathed video games as if he were enjoying his last meal. Often, she worried that he’d pass out from exhaustion from not eating and would leave him snacks, but she doubted he even knew about it.

           Clearing her thoughts from head, she pulled out her notebook and slumped forward.

           “Here, neko-chan,” Y/N called out softly. She scattered two dried anchovies on the floor, looking for the familiar orange stray that was frequently caught on campus. A soft meow sound from the corner and Y/N pressed against the side of the school, careful to stay under the awnings and out of the rain as she coaxed the cat forward. A smile blossomed on her face as she took in the rounded belly of the cat. In a week or two, there would be kittens hiding somewhere on the school grounds.

           “Y/N, come here,” Kuroo shouted, holding an umbrella up. Y/N looked at the onslaught of rain and considered her options: One, she could take Kuroo’s offer and walk home with him and Kenma. Two, she could brave the weather, catch a cold, and miss the next two days of school. Three, she could simply wait at the school until her grandfather or one of her brothers were available to pick her up.

           “You’re seriously that against walking home with us,” Kuroo asked, leaning over her. His body cast a large shadow on the ground, dark hair and sharp eyes lending to the villainous atmosphere that surrounded him. Kenma offered a brief, silent nod looking as uncomfortable as she felt. The stray cat nudged her hand as if scolding her for not leaving yet. Y/N stood, pulled down the hem of her skirt, and straightened her blazer.

           “I don’t mind walking home with Kozume-san,” she said, taking cover under Kuroo’s umbrella, “You, on the other hand, are far too loud.”

           “I miss when he was quiet,” muttered Kenma’s, lips twitching at the affronted look on Kuroo’s face. His gaze disappeared from her line of view as he slumped forward, hair shielding him from view. Y/N frowned lightly, looking up to meet Kuroo’s thoughtful gaze. The soft pitter patter of rain filled the silence as they walked, but her worry grew. Was she making Kenma uncomfortable with her presence? On normal days, Y/N would sometimes spot them coming off the morning train, Kuroo animatedly talking about whatever nonsense he’d thought up while Kenma softly answered back. They’d always seemed close like brothers, teasing and irritating each other at every chance. But they both had fallen silent now, having an awkward conversation behind her with their eyes.

           “You can drop me off at the bus stop,” said Y/N. “I don’t want you to have to go out of your way.”

           “Oka-“

           “It’s not out of our way,” Kenma said. His voice cut across Kuroo’s and broke the silence. Cat like eyes, gold and bright and sharp, met her own briefly before looking on ahead. Y/N nodded and bowed in the same motion, offering her thanks. His shoulders hunched up even more and she was suddenly grateful that Kuroo was here and stood between them.

           Kuroo nudged her and tilted his head in Kenma’s direction. She scowled back and pulled the umbrella closer leaving one of his arms out in the rain.

           “Kenma, tell Y/N she can call you Kenma.”

           “Hmmm…oh…you can call me Kenma if you want,” his hands fiddled with the button on his umbrella, “T…there’s no need for honorifics.”

           “Oh. I hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable.”

           “You didn’t. But, Kozume-san makes you sound like Hashimoto-sensei,” said Kenma. His eyes abruptly cut to hers again, the gold cutting through her like ice. She frowned, pressing a hand to her face and then narrowed her own eyes.

           “She’s so old,” said Y/N, voice high-pitched in indignation. “I’m only a year older than you!”

           “When were you born?” asked Kenma.

           “March 1st.”

           “Only seven months than,” he said, voice steadier, “Kozume-san makes me sound like an old man.”

           “I was being polite,” said Y/N, huffing in anger.

           “That’s our youth these days,” said Kuroo, grinning widely, “Rude and always on their devices.”

           “Shut up,” both her and Kenma said at once. They turned to each other in surprise, a light blush blossomed across both of their faces. A tight itch of anxiety built in her chest, but Kenma, for the first time ever, didn’t look away and held her gaze. It seemed so small and insignificant, but Y/N felt as if a hand had tightened its hold on her chest.

           Kuroo took over the conversation, pulling tiny strings that push and pull her and Kenma in different directions. She learned that he was an only child and Kuroo’s first friend in Tokyo. Y/N found herself telling them how she had two older brothers and lived with her grandfather who worked for an animation studio. Before she realized it, they’ve stopped in front of her house. Both boys gazed at the traditional awnings and bonsai tree with curiosity. She felt as if she should say something to cement their newly sprung friendship. Y/N lingered, a slight smile pulling at her lips.

“Your island was really pretty,” she offered quietly. Kenma coughed sharply.

“You…send me your switch code…I’ll let you visit it,” he turned around and walked down the street. Y/N frowned, looking at Kuroo.