Chapter Text
One thing about Ryukyu, she definitely knew how to fight. Akaashi was thankful for this fact because the brief lull in violence they’d had when first picking her up had faded fast. Akaashi found himself back to back with the woman, watching blood fly through the air following the slash of her knifepoint.
He was leaving a trail of gore behind himself, having picked up what he was fairly sure had been an aluminum table leg before the attack. It had seen a fair bit of use before he wrenched it out of one of his opponent’s hands, its decorative channels already caked with bits of blood, hair, and other material he didn’t want to think too long on. It wasn’t a bad weapon though, Akaashi thought, if forced to choose. Light and sturdy but long enough to keep a good distance between himself and his opponents - it would do.
Akaashi swung it at the head of an oncoming attacker, sweeping them out of his way. The resulting crunch told him he wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore, so he chanced a glance over at Bokuto.
Golden eyes met his own, calm in the midst of the storm. In just that glance, Akaashi knew he was alright. Knew he’d won against that oversized attacker that had gone at him earlier. For a moment his heart warmed. That moment was cut short when Bokuto’s eyes widened in alarm.
Turning, Akaashi spotted the group of six who were bearing down on Matsukawa beside him. Matsukawa was already engaged, trading blows with a woman armed with a pair of metal bars. Looking around, Akaashi saw that Ryukyu’s guard - Aki, he thought he’d heard Ryukyu call her that - was being supported by Daichi. Sugawara stood at his back and Hanamaki had taken the side next to Ryukyu herself. Hanamaki’s face was covered with a fierce grin as he held his own against a short but fierce pair of twins.
Sugawara seemed almost gleeful himself, smashing his chair leg down on the back of a man and then kicking him away. It wasn’t that surprising to Akaashi. He knew that the streets of the capital could be brutal if you were a kid growing up, and he’d heard rumors about the crows’ ferocity when defending their turf.
Akaashi was grateful for that fierceness now.
Turning back Akaashi dropped down, swinging his impromptu bat at the knees of the first in the group to reach them. The woman shouted out and went down, stabbing her knife into the floor as she fell, narrowly missing his boot. He kicked her hard to make sure she’d stay down, then pushed up, driving the table leg up toward the body of the next attacker.
It struck a glancing blow, enough to daze the man but not enough to get him to back off. Akaashi looked up into a face contorted with rage. A thick meaty hand wrapped itself around the end of his weapon and Akaashi cursed, trying to push the man off. Instead, he felt the man shove the end of the table leg back at him, catching his shoulder. It wasn’t a bad blow but it was enough to leave him open, especially as the man yanked the table leg back, pulling Akaashi forward as one of his companions raised a cudgel of his own -
Then the man dropped like a stone, quickly followed by his companion.
Gasping, Akaashi pulled his weapon of choice away from the fallen man and looked up into the imposing face of Ushijima Wakatoshi.
“I apologize if you feel my assistance was not necessary,” Ushijima said, “but I feel it’s more expedient to dispatch these insurgents as quickly as possible so that we might minimize the damage they are causing.”
“True,” Akaashi said, still reeling.
“That said, you appear to be quite a formidable opponent. I appreciate the fact that we are on the same side tonight.”
Same side?
“Emi!” Ryukyu gasped, pushing past Akaashi and going to the woman with long silver hair that stood next to Ushijima. She reached out her hand, then pulled back when she saw the blood on it, standing straight and giving a short nod. “It is good you were not harmed.”
Nodding at her sister, the woman who Akaashi assumed was Ryukyu Emiko said, “The Shiratorizawa offered their assistance earlier, and have lived up to their formidable reputation.”
Ushijima nodded as if accepting her statement as simple fact. “The Fukurodani forces were able to contact Ryukyu-sama a couple of minutes ago to tell her that communications had been restored and they were working to clear out the rebels who have surrounded the mansion and who have been attempting to get inside. They should have the situation contained shortly. Still, I do believe we should join your companion. He appears to be, ah - waving at you?”
Akaashi glanced over, feeling an irrational burst of affection for Bokuto. He was indeed waving a hand in the air. Then he turned, clasping his hands together and ducking to drive an elbow up into the chest of an oncoming attacker, sending them flying through the air. Behind Bokuto, Akaashi saw Kunimi standing guard over what Akaashi hoped were only the unconscious bodies of Kindaichi and Kageyama.
They were only a few meters away. Akaashi wasn’t sure when they’d gotten this close.
Still, it wasn’t close enough.
Giving Ushijima a nod Akaashi rushed forward to close the gap, swinging at the legs of a man who was trying to sneak up on Bokuto while he was engaged with a woman on the other side.
“Akaaashi!” Bokuto yelled, turning around and engulfing him in his arms.
Akaashi didn’t care that Bokuto’s hands were probably bloody as they carded through his hair. He didn’t care about the fact that they were both covered in grime and dust and that his shoulder ached as Bokuto squeezed him close. He didn’t care that they’d probably been in a thousand fights before this one.
He cared that Bokuto was safe.
Bokuto pulled back, smiling down at him. “Sorry I don’t have your champagne,” he said.
“What?” Akaashi said, trying to remember - ah, yes. Back before the fight maybe? “That’s fine.”
Laughing, Bokuto pushed Akaashi’s hair out of his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispered.
Akaashi was sure he’d never get over this moment, no matter how many fights they got themselves into. He hated - hated, hated - those long stretches of fear when Bokuto was in danger and he wasn’t there to help watch his back, but when they finally came back to each other it was like he could breathe again.
Oh, he loved him, loved him so much.
Bokuto’s heart shone in his eyes as he looked down at Akaashi, confident and warm. Then the moment was broken by a small furrow in between those shining eyes.
“Ah - oh - have you heard anything from Kenma or Kuroo? I haven’t seen them since this started -”
“No,” Akaashi replied, feeling his mood drop as worry suddenly had the space to rush through him. He turned, looking around the room, trying to catch a glimpse of his other two lovers in amongst the knots of fighters on the edges of the room. “No, I haven’t seen them at all.”
“It’ll be ok,” said Bokuto, patting his back. “We just got separated, that’s all! They know how to take care of themselves in a fight, they’ll be fine.”
True. It was true. He’d seen them both fight, knew that both of them were probably more used to combat than either Bokuto or himself. But still -
Anxiety burrowed its way into his stomach, curling around and making a home for himself as the adrenaline of the fight started to ebb.
But still.
In a battle like this, anything could happen.
But Bokuto was probably right. They were probably fine.
But still, he worried.
~~~~~~~
Oikawa’s arms ached from carrying the front end of Iwaizumi’s stretcher as he followed Shirabu down a back corridor. He could hear echoes of fighting from far away. Smell the smoke from explosions. Luckily, however, the halls they’d traveled had been deserted.
“Stay here a moment,” Shirabu murmured, knocking at a door.
Someone pulled the door open a crack and started talking to him. Oikawa turned and looked at Iwaizumi, willing himself to keep it together. Iwaizumi looked horrible. He was breathing, but his skin was pale and Oikawa hated the sight of the blood seeping through the clothes on his back.
“They’ll take good care of him,” Semi murmured.
Wanting to glare at him, Oikawa bit his lip and nodded. “Thank you,” he managed, turning back around.
Shirabu had slipped inside the door, shutting it behind himself. It was only a moment before it was opened again though, Shirabu peeking out and waving them inside. “Hurry.”
It made Oikawa want to snap at him as well. He was the one who had made them wait in the hall - well, that probably wasn’t fair.
Then again, not much was fair at the moment. He felt all alone, forced to rely on the kindness of strangers. He didn’t even know what was going on with the rest of his people - were Makki and Mattsun ok? What about Kindaichi and Kunimi? At least Yahaba, Watari, and Kyoutani were still out wrapping things up in the country. After this Yahaba would probably stop sulking about the fact that he didn’t get to go to the fancy party.
Maybe.
He’d always liked the opportunity to kick some ass.
Still, Oikawa was shaky enough to be glad he didn’t have to worry about more of his people being dead or alive - or injured and possibly bleeding out behind him like -
A shock of red hair pulled him away from such dark thoughts. “Nacchan?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Er - Hin ata-sa n?”
“Tooru!”
It had been years since Oikawa had seen Hinata Natsu. He’d heard that Kiyoko had helped her get some scholarship to an off-world university. Iwaizumi said she was doing well, but Oikawa felt almost ashamed to say that he hadn’t really paid attention to what was going on with Hinata’s baby sister.
Evidently, a lot.
She was dressed in a mint-green shift dress, long auburn curls held back with a matching headband. Giving him a kind smile, she hurried toward him, tilting her head to the side. “Shirabu-san said that you had - ah! Hajime! Here, bring him in here, we have a bed and I’ll be able to check him over. Rin, can you heat up some water? Oh, I wish I had access to one of those portable medbays, but maybe someone will be bringing one soon. It sounds like everything out there is awful.”
“You can’t go help until everyone is secure,” scolded a tall man near her, running hands through curly brown hair as a shorter black-haired man rushed toward what Oikawa assumed was a bathroom.
“I know, Oga-kun - but -” Natsu said, shaking her head. “At least I’m here to help Hajime now.”
Oikawa vaguely recognized the two men as possibly being some of the kids that had hung around with Hinata back during high school. He’d been pretty popular back then. Hadn’t been much taller than the brats either.
“Are you - do you know something about medicine?” Oikawa asked, helping carry Iwaizumi to the bed so that they could transfer him over.
The man Natsu had called Oga-kun laughed. “Know something? She’s a top-flight surgeon, that’s what she is. One of the best there is on Aoba, apart from those owned by Fukurodani.”
“Now -” Natsu protested.
“I know, I know. Time, place, occasion.”
“Are you with the rebels?” Oikawa blurted out, caught between fascination at the transformation Natsu had undergone and fear that Shirabu had led them straight into the den of their enemies.
A dry laugh from behind him had Oikawa turning to frown at Shirabu.
“They’re anything but rebels,” Shirabu said, shaking his head. “Come on, she’s waiting for you.”
“She?” Oikawa asked, turning to look at Natsu again. “But - I thought -”
Brown eyes warm, Natsu said, “Don’t worry, Oikawa-kun. I’ll do my best to make sure he’s alright. Kenjirou is right, though, you shouldn’t keep her waiting too long. It’s a bit impolite.”
Feeling bemused at the fact that Natsu evidently was on a first-name basis with a Shiratorizawa bounty hunter, Oikawa gave Iwaizumi one last look before turning and following Shirabu through a seco nd do or.
Where he promptly had to keep himself from immediately falling to his knees.
“Aomori-sama,” he said instead, giving a deep bow. “Pardon me, I didn’t -”
A crystal-clear laugh rang out from the girl in front of him, and he dared to look up. “Oh, it’s alright,” she said, giving him an impish grin. “No need to be so formal.”
“Heika,” chided a man seated next to her.
“He’s been through enough, Yama. Besides, I think he’s proven that he’s one of our loyal subjects, yes? And he looks rather too overwhelmed. If we’re offering sanctuary, we should offer it with kindness and comfort.”
The man huffed and looked away, motioning to someone near the edge of the room.
They hurried forward and pushed a chair closer to where the two of them were sitting, waving at Oikawa to take a seat. Shirabu sat down in a chair nearby, resting his hands on his knees.
It felt strange to be in the presence of royalty.
His royalty.
Aomori Sadako, the queen of Aoba, waved a hand toward the small table between the four of them. “Would you like something to eat or drink? This is just a light tea, but we can bring something more substantial if you like. My cousin tells me you’ve been through quite the ordeal.”
“Cousin?” Oikawa asked, watching as she poured out cups of tea for each of them.
Shirabu shifted in his seat. “It’s not something we publicise,” he muttered, looking to the side.
Huh.
“At the moment,” Aomori said, “It’s handier to - how do you put it, Yama? - keep some cards close to the chest.”
“Vest, Heika.”
“Ah, yes. I don’t think I’ve ever worn a vest before.”
Yama huffed, running a hand through thinning hair. “It is merely a saying, Your Majesty. Though if you desire to wear such a garment, I’m fairly certain that one can be procure d for yo u.”
“Perhaps,” she said, tilting her head to the side and giving her lips a tap.
For a moment, Oikawa was worried that his sovereign might be a bit of a vapid teenager. She had seemed a bit nervous when giving him the award before, though he’d been overwhelmed by her mere presence and hadn’t worried about it. She was young, after all, only thirteen or so -
Then her gaze shifted, sharpening as she watched his face, and his impression changed completely.
“I like clothes sometimes,” she said, waving her fingers in the air. “Costuming is useful, don’t you think, Oikawa-san? You strike me as a man who knows the value of a good outfit.”
Nodding carefully, he said, “I attempt to, Your Majesty.”
“I have been taught,” she continued, “that it is important to use all available resources in order to manage and build power. Clothes, for one; manipulating one’s appearance is critical, especially when one is temporarily the weaker party in a relationship. Gathering loyal people is essential as well, I believe. I would not have survived past my fifth year if it wasn’t for Yamazaki, for instance. Kenjirou, too, has been a loyal ally over the past few years, keeping us apprised of all sorts of important details about the political situation amongst the Confederation of Planets. Then, of course, you know Shimizu-san and the others that work with her. She was even kind enough to help provide me with a most excellent physician - though Natsu-chan’s importance has gone beyond that of a mere doctor, of course.”
“I see,” said Oikawa, though in truth it was all taking a bit to process. “So you - Kiyoko and the others are helping you even though they’re coppers -”
“Not even though,” said Aomori. “Their jobs are wholly legitimate, not some cover. Well, I suppose there are those that assume that their pledge to me is merely a formality and that the confederation holds their true loyalty.”
“That - ah. That has been an assumption I’ve heard, yes,” Oikawa admitted.
“It reflects a false assumption. After all, I am a member of the Confederation of Planets. I am not a mere figurehead. When the time comes, I will take my place as the true ruler of Aoba, and Fukurodani will have to step aside and accept the fact that they will only have a presence here if it is my pleasure to grant them one.”
Oh. Oh, the steel in her voice - the unwavering confidence - it was nothing like the girl who’d stood in front of the crowd earlier that evening, trembling as she slipped a medal around his neck. No, this was the voice of a girl who would turn into a woman who could rule.
Would rule.
Lips tightening into the echo of a smile, she said, “Unfortunately, that time has no t yet com e.”
Nodding, Oikawa considered. “I doubt they want to give up power that easily.”
“They will, actually. Wouldn’t want to risk the consequences of resistance.”
“They seem to be pretty adamant about holding their power from where I’m sitting, Your Majesty. You probably only have to ask the rebels about that.”
“Ah yes,” Aomori said, wrinkling her nose. “The rebels. They don’t understand - well - they don’t understand much of anything beyond what they see in front of them, I think. Still, they are my people as well, and I am their queen.”
“A fact that some of them would probably like to change,” Shirabu grumbled.
“Which,” Yamazaki said, “is one of the reasons for patience.”
Aomori nodded, taking a sip of her tea. “Moving before I have consolidated enough power would lead to a very short-lived reign, I believe. We still haven’t isolated the players that were behind the assassination of my parents, and there are forces at play in the Confederation of Planets who would like nothing more than to swoop down and seize true control of the planet. I realize that Fukurodani’s presence here is a great burden on my people, but it is a manageable one.”
Manageable. Oikawa thought about Takeru and the others, about the people living in the slums and starving in the countryside. Manageable wasn’t a word he would use.
But patience. He knew about patience, even if he also hated it.
Aomori seemed to sense his concern because she said, “I am not trying to minimize the damage here, Oikawa-san. I understand that many of the rebels out there are fighting because they are desperate, and that they have experienced things I have never had to deal with. But I also know it could be much worse. I know that if we make an abortive attempt at independence before we are ready it will be much worse. However, I know that the way things are underscores the urgency of gathering our resources. When we do make our play - using politics, within the framework of the CoP constitution - we will be able to hold onto the independence we gain. We need strength to withstand the forces that would like nothing more than to latch onto us like a juicy meal.”
Oikawa stared at her. It was -
It was a lot to take in. He glanced at Yamazaki, fairly sure at least some of this was the result of his coaching.
Still, what she had to say made sense, as long as she was actively working to gather support and not just waiting.
“It’s a long game,” Shirabu said. “And a delicate one, at the moment.”
“It’s one we have to win this time,” Yamazaki said, some ancient grief in his eyes. Oikawa wondered at the history there.
“If you really could do this peacefully, though,” Oikawa said, “make Aoba an independent system again, make us more than just resources for the Fukurodani corporation -“
“We,” said Aomori.
“What?”
“I’d like it to be we.”
Oikawa frowned. “Ah, I don’t know if you know, Your Majesty, but we are about to go into exile -“
“On a Fukurodani ship, yes I know. And I know they will probably use you in an unofficial capacity from time to time and expect you to be available to them when needed. But honestly? That’s exactly what I need you to do.”
“Excuse me, Your Majesty??”
“Be my eyes and ears. Build relationships, real relationships, with other members of the confederation. I have other people helping to make sure things here on Aoba 5 will be ready for a transition of power, but we are only one system in the confederation. Without allies, we will be easy pickings. I need you to help us develop those alliances.”
It was a tall order - and yet, it appealed to Oikawa. He knew from his time on the street and in business how to cultivate friendships in all the right places.
None of it had made a difference when it mattered, when Takeru was lying in the hospital. Not his connections, not his looks, not his skills or knowledge - none of it.
Now though, maybe - maybe he could put them to good use. Actually accomplish something of lasting value for his people.
“I will serve you, Your Majesty,” Oikawa said, bowing his head. “Seijou will serve you.”
Aomori let out a breath. “Thank you,” she said.
She was smiling when Oikawa looked up at her, something warm and hopeful and innocent enough to remind him that she was barely thirteen.
Then her gaze shifted behind him, and he turned and saw Natsu in the doorway, pulling off rubber gloves. She looked tired, like it had been more than just a few minutes that they’d been apart.
He saw a splatter of blood on her dress, dark against the mint green fabric. It made him afraid to ask the question that hovered at the front of his mouth.
“We stabilized him,” Natsu said, not quite meeting his eyes. “I think, at least.”
“Is he ok?” asked Oikawa, wanting to jump to his feet until he remembered the company he was keeping. “I mean - can I talk to him? Is he awake?”
Natsu shook her head, glancing up at him and then away. “No, not - there was - well, some debris from the explosion was caught in his back; when we extracted it, well - we were able to control the bleeding. His head was hit pretty hard too.”
“Head?” Oikawa echoed, feeling cold. “Is he - Nacchan - will he be -”
“He’s stable,” said Natsu, leaning against the doorjamb and finally giving him a weary smile. “We’ll know more in a few hours, and it would be really helpful to have one of the more advanced scanners and a medpod so that we can monitor everything, but we’ve done what we can for now.”
“As soon as the fighting clears, we will get whatever you need,” Aomori said. “Whatever is in my power, Oikawa-san. We will do whatever we can to see your friend safe.”
Friend. The word pierced him. He’d only had a few moments of time when they’d gone beyond mere friendship, and now it seemed he was in danger of losing Iwaizumi for good.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he whispered anyhow, forcing himself to remember his manners. He was lucky, very lucky that he’d been led here to Aomori. After all, she was his queen, and was one of the few native Aobian people who had the ability to dedicate resources to help Iwaizumi survive his injuries.
He only hoped those resources would be enough.
~~~
Kenma pushed the door open, raising his sword in case he met with an enemy. Another sword met his own and he snarled, pulling back -
Then he saw the face of the other man holding the sword and smiled. “Yaku,” he said.
“Let's get inside before you have a heartfelt reunion, if you don't mind,” said Tsukishima, pressing back to back against Kenma.
Eyes opening wide, Yaku stepped back and let them through, quickly closing the door behind them. “I didn’t know - we knew someone was trying to hack the door because it kept beeping, but -”
“We took them out,” Kenma said, looking around. They were in an empty hall with a closed door visible to the right. Down the corridor, he saw Lev talking to two other men. They looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place them.
“Nice work,” said Yaku, eyeing him critically. “All that theirs?”
“Yes -”
Turning, Lev spotted him, green eyes open wide as he opened his mouth to yell out, “Kenma! You’re alive!”
Kenma ignored Tsukishima’s huff of laughter as he stepped back to avoid the oncoming hug Lev wanted to attack him with, only barely managing to remind himself that holding up his sword to let Lev skewer himself on it would probably be bad form. “I am,” he said instead, thankful that Yaku elbowed Lev in the stomach to stop his forward movement.
“Friends of yours, I take it?” asked one of the two strange men. He was tall, with fluffy auburn hair that was a pale echo of Shouyou’s red.
The other man was shorter, with dark spiky hair. He was giving the Tsukishima and Kenma an appraising look. Something about him was disconcerting, maybe the look in his eyes, maybe the eyes themselves - ah.
“Kenma, this is Kawanishi and Yamagata, they’re from the Shiratorizawa group,” Yaku said. “We were talking in a side room when the attack happened. Kawanishi has a cousin in the Dynami tribe, and Yamagata is -”
“Katy,” interrupted Kenma, trying to quiet the mild perturbation that he always felt in the presence of Kingdomtide bloodline members.
Yamagata grinned. “Guilty as charged!” he said. “You’re Dikastis, right? Like Yaku and Lev here?”
Nodding, Kenma said, “We grew up together,” before turning to Tsukishima. “Ah, and this is Tsukishima. He’s a Confederation of Planets operative.”
“Nice gun,” said Kawanishi. “Didn’t know they let you bring those here. It should be a big help.”
“It’s almost out of charge,” Tsukishima replied, glancing back to the door behind them. “That’s not going to open for them, is it?”
Kenma turned, examining the keypad. “I - no, I doubt it,” he said. “Its locked now, and Tendou has control of the house’s systems - ah - Kuroo -”
“Tendou?” Yamagata asked, eyes brightening. “Man, that guy always has his fingers in all kinds of pies.”
“Yeah,” said Kenma. “He’s up in the control room with Kuro.”
Kuroo, who Tendou had said was fighting with someone who seemed like a true threat. Kenma didn’t want to think about what Tendou meant by that. He curled his free hand into a fist, staring down at the blood spattered red on the back of his fingers and trying to ignore the fact that it was shaking.
“Are you ok, Kenma?” asked Lev, an unwelcome note of concern in his voice.
“He’s fine, Lev,” Yaku murmured.
When Kenma looked up at him in thanks, he saw a question in Yaku’s eyes asking if his statement had been true. Nodding in response, Kenma said, “We need to get to them. If we know they’ve taken the control room over, the enemy forces may know as well. I know the most direct route.”
Sighing, Kawanishi said, “Well, I suppose it’s time to get our hands dirty. And here we were, having such a nice relaxing evening.”
“Let’s go,” Kenma said, laying out the blueprint of the house in his mind before considering the other members of their group. “Yaku and I should take point since we’re armed. I doubt that anyone else has ranged weapons, and apart from Lev we will have the fastest reflexes. Tsukishima, you bring up the rear and pick off anyone who tries to come after us. You three - well - I’m sure you know what to do.”
It was disturbing how similar Yamagata and Lev’s grins were at that statement.
Kawanishi just nodded, gaze sharpening. “We’ll improvise however we have to.”
“Alright then.”
Kenma took off down the hall, away from the ballroom. He kept the map at the forefront of his mind as they took a door into a stairwell, surprising a small group of the enemy coming up the stairs. One man yelled and raced up toward Kenma, knife in a raised hand - like it was supposed to be scary or something. Kenma disemboweled him, angling his sword toward the left and away from where Yaku was striking out at the woman in front of him.
The woman stepped back and twisted, her sudden motion throwing Yaku off-balance. He sidestepped into a spray of blood from Kenma’s opponent and slipped toward the woman and her outstretched knife.
“Yaku!” Lev yelled, hurling himself forward.
Kenma raised his sword, but Lev was quicker. He grabbed her arm, pulling her between Kenma and Yaku. Then Yaku was there, sword slashing down to cut off her head and arm. Simple and quick and that was that - but as Kenma looked at Yaku, he saw that his friend’s face was a bit pale. Swords weren’t nearly as effective when opponents got as close as that woman had managed to get.
But it was done.
Looking down, Kenma saw the last member of the enemy trio running away down the stairs.
“Let him go?” Kawanishi asked.
“It’s not like we don’t know the mansion is crawling with people who want to kill -”
A shot rang out, and the man jerked, falling the rest of the way down the stairs. Trying not to glare, Kenma looked over at Tsukishima.
“The fewer people who know where we are, the better. You know that,” Tsukishima said.
Kenma did know that. He was just in a hurry to get to Kuroo and didn’t want to get sidetracked tying up loose ends. Well, that, and battle fatigue was starting to creep up on him, especially after the social stress of the event earlier in the evening.
It was probably a good thing Tsukishima was there to keep things on track.
Kenma started up the flight of stairs to the second story, glancing over at Yaku to see if he was favoring his ankle.
Yaku just gave him a glare, shrugging off Lev’s arm but holding onto the railing. It was hard for Kenma to think of Yaku as someone who was recovering from an injury; all his life Yaku had been one of the most stalwart fighters of their team.
But he supposed they’d all changed in the last few months.
“They’re on the second story,” Kenma murmured, thankful the room wasn’t higher. He just wanted to get to the control room. Get to Kuroo. Make sure Kuroo was alright - he had to be alright. It was impossible to think that Kuroo would fall to anyone here.
Then again, the impossible had happened before.
There was the loud clatter of feet on the stairs above them and Kenma rushed to get to the landing, wanting to be on stable ground before facing their next opponents. He saw Lev out of the corner of his eye and looked back to see that Yaku had fallen behind.
Trusting that Lev knew what he was doing, Kenma sliced at the legs of the first man, moving out of the way as one of the rebels jumped down the last two steps toward him. Turning, he saw Kawanishi reach out and grab the woman’s hair before twisting her neck and throwing her to the ground. Lev was pushing a knife up into a third attacker’s ribcage. They were falling like chess pieces, like the pawns they were. Kenma barely had time to draw a breath before Yamagata was rushing up the stairs and bowling into a blonde woman, tossing her back down toward the landing before moving onto a man who was trying to run away.
Yaku had raised his sword to finish the blonde woman off when -
“Umi?” Tsukishima gasped.
Glaring up at him, the woman said, “Murderers. Monsters. You all deserve to -”
Sword flashing, Yaku sliced down. The woman’s hand dropped to the landing floor, fingers twitching. A round ball rolled out of her hand, safety pin still in place.
They were all silent for a moment, then Kenma looked up at Tsukishima. “I hope she wasn’t a friend of yours,” he finally said.
“She came to the bar sometimes,” Tsukishima replied, meeting his gaze before looking over at the other bodies. “I knew her sister had been killed in an industrial accident last year, but I never would have thought -”
“Don’t think about it too much,” Yamagata said, patting Tsukishima on the shoulder. “Nothing you could have done. This is just the way things are.”
Unfortunately, Kenma knew he was right.
Turning his back on the carnage, Kenma pushed open the door, peering out into an empty corridor. “It’s just down here,” he said.
Just a few meters away.
Thankfully, there were no more black-clad troops coming their way. Kenma rushed to the door of the control room, banging on it before scrambling to make contact with the control panel. Inside. Kuroo was inside. He had to get -
The door slid open, revealing a haggard-looking Tendou.
“Kozume-san,” Tendou said. “He’s -”
Pale. Lying on the ground, lips blue. Unconscious. Kuroo had to be unconscious, he couldn’t be - there was no way he was -
“- Poison,” Tendou was saying, using words that Kenma could barely process as he rushed forward. “Research - not -”
Kuroo’s chest was moving. He was still alive.
“- listening? It’s not life-threatening, think he just -”
He wouldn’t wake up. Kuroo wouldn’t wake up. There were ugly black scratches down the side of his neck, red and puffy at the edges. He was breathing, though, and his heartbeat was steady.
A hand dropped onto his shoulder, and Kenma looked up.
“He’ll be alright,” Yaku said, looking down at him.
Tendou nodded when Kenma turned to him. “The woman he fought - she had poison on her nails. I think his - his body just - I think he just passed out from the pain, but it should just be temporary. I don’t think he’s in any danger.”
The redhead was glancing over at his teammates as he spoke, and Kenma read between the lines.
Nanites. The nanites had shut Kuroo’s body down so they could deal with the issue before it became critical.
“Nohebi,” Kenma whispered, tracing the lines on Kuroo’s neck. He was so tired of poison. Tired of Kuroo being in danger, tired of all of this. But mainly, right now, he was just tired.
Biting his lips together, Kenma brushed Kuroo’s hair back from his face, hoping it wouldn’t take long before the poison was expelled from his system so he could see his lover’s golden eyes once again.