Chapter Text
If there was anything Kenma hated more than the cold weather, it was the bone chilling rain. The winter wind whipped past his head, blowing his hair into his face as he walked, head down and hood up, looking down at the screen of his DS. The smell of rain surrounded him as small water droplets slid down his hair, splattering the screen of his DS with tiny dots of icy rain. He stopped at the bus shelter, seeking haven from the cold shower. Kenma knew it wouldn’t be long before the rain turned into sleet, or worse, hail. He sighed, leaning against the plexiglass and tapping away at his game.
He ignored the sounds of cars speeding by and the stench of pot from the man standing beside him. Ironic, considering Kenma’s profession, but he scrunched his nose and turned his head anyways. He had other things to care about rather than the man’s drug habits and the weather.
The city bus pulled up to the shelter, to Kenma’s relief. He didn’t bother to look up from his game as he stepped onto the bus and passed his pay to the driver, picking a seat close to the doors. Kenma Kozume was particularly aquatinted with the 303 west, the bus that stopped a mere five minutes away by the metro station. It was routine for him to pass through the shady alleyways of the old buildings, walking by the hand painted murals sporting bright yellow graffiti that read something that could only be translated to “fuck the goddamn artists.” It was pretentious, for vandalization, but then again, street art usually was.
Kenma thought, by now, that he would acquire a certain kind of hatred for the run down buildings of this part of the city; the worn brick buildings, the broken glass and boarded up windows, the shoes dangling from power lines like Christmas ornaments. But rather, he found it had burnt itself into his mind, had rooted it’s way of life into him. This part of town, away from the cherry blossoms and pastel steel, with it’s gunshots and blood, seemed as normal to him as the weather. Maybe that’s what you get when you live here all your life. Kenma thought to himself as he stepped off the bus, making his way to the subway station.
Ten pm left the station practically desolate, the only sounds being Kenma’s footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. The chill crept into his bones as he dropped his dropped his tokens and made his way to the waiting point, stopping exactly where he knew the doors would appear. Pushing his hood back, he leant against the wall, and looked back down at his device to find a blank screen.
“Dead battery.” Kenma muttered, pocketing the device. He continued to stare at the ground, opting to close his eyes and wait for the train to arrive.
It was then that Kenma felt a bump at his shoulders, then a hand grabbing his arm, jerking him backwards from almost falling onto the live tracks. Stunned, he stood wide eyed looking at tracks. As the shock wore off, Kenma looked up to see a man apologizing.
“Jesus Christ I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean for that to happen, oh my god you could’ve died I’m so sorry!” The man said, concern lacing his voice.
Kenma shrugged, taking a closer look at the man in front of him. He was wearing a dark green button up coat, and nice black jeans to match. The burgundy scarf around his neck matched his laced up boots. For someone so smartly dressed, his hair was an unruly black mess, sticking up at the front and falling awkwardly onto his face. Somehow, Kenma didn’t think the wind was the only reason for his hair style.
“Are you going to say anything else?” Kenma inquired silently, looking into his eyes as the man continued to stare at him.
“Er- yeah, I’m sorry. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” He said.
“Kenma.” He replied, peering down the tunnel to look for the train. He was beginning to shiver, only wearing a hoodie in the cool weather was a mistake.
Kenma was greeted with the sight of headlights and the sound of wheels clacking against the tracks as the train pulled it’s brakes, halting in front of them. Kenma hurried on, taking the seat next to the doors while Kuroo chose to stand beside him. The train lurched forward and began to speed through the route. Kuroo stumbled slightly with the sudden movement.
“You know,” Kenma said, watching as Kuroo attempted to stay standing, “You can sit.”
“Oh thank god, I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said as he hurriedly took a seat.
Kenma cocked his head, but before Kuroo could open his mouth, Kenma had already replied.
“You wanted to talk to me, didn’t you?” He asked, looking at Kuroo.
Kuroo shrugged, rubbing his neck and giving a half hearted smile. “It was worth a shot.” He said. “What were you doing in this part of town anyway? I mean, it’s pouring buckets out there.”
Kenma simply shrugged. “I was checking out a piercer, but the place didn’t look very sanitary. I know someone who runs a better place, but their piercer scares me.”
Kuroo let out a light chuckle, smiling at Kenma’s response. “Yeah, I’ve learnt to just trust the artist if they know what they’re doing.”
Kenma stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Kuroo didn’t know that the piercer was actually a hit man, but he tended not to blurt that out to people on the streets.
The train rolled on, stopping to pick no one up and starting yet again. Kenma swung his feet to change the position of his crossed legs, causing his DS to fall out of his pocket and onto the floor on the train. Kuroo picked it up in one swift motion, not a second after it had fell and inspected it.
“God, I love playing video games but I absolutely suck at them. You’d kick my ass.” He said, handing it back to Kenma with a smile. “Except racing games. I crush everyone in Need For Speed.”
“I doubt you’d beat me.” Kenma said, pocketing the device again.
“Ohoho? Is that a challenge?” Kuroo said, his face breaking into a sly grin.
Kenma rolled his eyes. “Hardly.”
Kuroo let out another laugh, this time louder. It rang through the empty train car, filling the cool underground air with warmth and the contagious urge to smile. Kenma ignored it, instead taking a deep breath and releasing a catlike yawn.
“So, what were you doing? It’s only fair you say, since I told you my reason.” Kenma asked, turning to look Kuroo in the eyes. He watched as Kuroo’s eyebrow lifted, only for a moment before he spoke.
“I was meeting up with a friend in a coffee shop. We got a little carried away in conversation, hence the hour.” Kuroo replied with a light laugh. This one didn’t carry the same caliber of the previous, it was filled with false humour a smile that didn’t extend to his eyes.
“Bullshit.” Kenma said, the moment Kuroo had finished. “There’s only one coffee shop in the area and it’s a chain you could find anywhere else. Your outfit could probably pay for mine ten times over, I doubt you’d choose this part of town.”
Kuroo stood, slightly shellshocked at Kenma’s accusation. He let out a heavy sigh. He wasn’t wrong, after all.
“You’re preceptive, aren’t you?” Kuroo said. Kenma stayed silent, simply staring at him. Kuroo let out another sigh.
“Alright, I’ll be honest, I was there on detective business. False lead, shitty weather, and my partner choose’s today to call in sick.” Kuroo shook his head. “Anyways, sorry for not saying it flat out, people usually get a little freaked out when they hear I’m an investigator.”
Kenma’s stomach dropped, but he kept his composure. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, but he was doing his job and he was rather aquatinted with nosy detectives. However, Kuroo struck him as different. The majority of them would check him for drugs and leave, but Kuroo genuinely started a conversation.
“Sounds like a shitty day.” Kenma said, not bothering to react outwardly to Kuroo’s confession.
Kuroo smiled and shrugged. “It wasn’t all that bad. I got to meet this pretty boy, and he’s rather good company.” A moment passed, and seeing that Kenma may have missed the hint he spoke again.
“I meant you, by the way.”
Kenma was stunned. He wasn’t exactly used to speaking to people, and had very little experience when it came to friendly conversations, much less complements. His forte had always been going by completely unnoticed by everyone.
Well, everyone except Kuroo, that is.
“I’m sorry, that came off strong, didn’t it?” He said, beginning to look concerned. “I just meant-”
“It’s alright. Thank you, Kuroo.” Kenma said, blushing. Kuroo seemed to blush back, but the flickering lights may be playing tricks on him.
The train halted, and Kenma stood quickly, walking right into Kuroo as he turned to exit the doors. Somehow, for the second time that day, Kenma had almost fell onto the tracks. This time, they simply managed to laugh it off, stepping onto the platform without further near death experiences, not even a single bruise to show Kenma has almost died twice that day.
“Hey,” Kuroo said, as they began to leave the station. “Do you want me to walk you home? It’s pretty late.”
Every single bone in Kenma’s extremely logical body was screaming at him to say no, to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but somehow, he found himself nodding his head vigorously. Kuroo broke out into another smile, the kind that made Kenma drop his permeant apathetic expression for a softer one, one where he let the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly.
Kenma’s apartment was parallel to the exposed area of the metro line, his windows facing partially the trains, and partially the brick wall of the nearby shops that ran down the street. It was rather far down, and he was secretly glad for a reason to be accompanied down the dark road. He knew people who dealt with violence firsthand, and he’d rather not relive their stories of bruised ribs and missing teeth.
Kuroo talked as they walked down the street, about how spring was his favourite season and how he couldn’t wish for first flowers to bloom. Even in the dark, the amber light of streetlamps illuminated the glimmer in his eyes when he talked about the flowers.
“I wanted to be a florist, originally, but I think I love it a lot more that it’s not my profession, y’know? My condo has a patio, and once it gets warmer I’m gonna start arranging planters to put outside. I think I’ll do a lot of yellow and purple this year.” He said, using his hands to gesture wildly. Somehow, it made sense.
“I have a few succulents in my house. Everything else I try to grow dies.” Kenma said quietly. Kuroo replied excitedly, going on about his favourite cacti and how aloe vera is underrated.
“I’m sorry, this is ridiculous, I just really like plants.” He said, laughing lightly.
Kenma smiled. “No, I like hearing you talk.” Shit. He shouldn’t have said that.
Kuroo smiled back at him and shrugged. They continued to walk in comfortable silence, the odd car whizzing past, leaving them blinded by the headlights. The rain had stopped, and they were lucky to miss the hail. It was strange, walking with an almost-stranger back to your house, just because you don’t like the dark. Kenma tried his very best not to pay attention to the part of him screaming bad idea. They stopped in front of Kenma’s apartment building, Kuroo turning to Kenma with his phone in his hands, playing with his thumbs.
“Hey, can I have your number?” He asked quickly, slurring his words together in a way that Kenma realized the average person may have not been able to decipher.
Kenma nodded, handing Kuroo his phone and taking his, putting his contact into Kuroo’s phone. He handed it back to him, eyes flickering from the ground then back up to him, hoping he couldn’t see the blush rising up Kenma’s cheeks.
“Kozume? That’s a pretty name. Thanks, Kenma, talk to you later.” He said, taking a few steps backwards as he waved to Kenma. Kenma waved back, and darted into his building. He watched from the other side of the glass as Kuroo even waited for him to enter the building before leaving.
Kenma was completely screwed. There was a reason he didn’t talk to people, a reason he didn’t interact, and the possibility of having a cop flirt with him was definitely up there. But despite every instinct telling him not to, he sent Kuroo a goodnight text before stepping into the elevator.
For a chemist who makes various drugs for a living, much less one of the largest criminal organizations on the eastern side of Japan, getting close to a cop was not an option. Kenma knew very well what would happen if he was caught. If he didn’t get thrown into jail, he knew for sure that higher up would have his head. Despite being close to the leader, he knew for a fact that the man wouldn’t hesitate to have someone slit his neck.
Being close enough to him defiantly helped, but he had seen the scary side of Oikawa Tooru, and Kenma did not want his wrath unleashed onto him.
He fiddled with his lock, unlocking the door to his apartment. It was a modest size, and very open spare the half wall separating the kitchen from the living area. Kenma shrugged off his jacket and kicked off his shoes, imminently heading for his outlet to plug in his DS. He plugged in the charger and stood again to walk to the bathroom and run a hot bath.
He walked into the bathroom, discarding his shirt and shorts, pulling out a bottle of lavender bubble bath. He poured it into the running water and sighed, rolling his neck back. His job didn’t require much physical labour, but it quickly worked kinks into his neck and left his joints stiff. Wandering back out into the living area, he grabbed his phone and his DS (only partially charged, but enough to last for the duration of his bath). Turning the corner, he entered to kitchen and grabbed a bottle of melon soda from the fridge, shoving it under his chin. Kenma shivered slightly at the cool metal, feeling the condensed water trickle down his neck.
Walking back over to the bathroom, he shut the door with his foot and placed the pop can on the ledge of the bathtub. He placed his DS beside it, and opened his phone to scroll his music library for something to listen to. Choosing a random electronic playlist, he set his phone on the floor by the tub and stepped into the warm water, shutting it off with the other hand. Sliding the rest of his body into the water, he rolled his shoulders back, releasing the days tension from his shoulders. The synths from the music sent little waves in the water, splashing up Kenma’s bent knees.
Letting out a long sigh, Kenma sank down into the water, fully submerging his face in the water. His hair billowed in the water, fanning out around his face. Everything was muffled underwater, the music, his thoughts, his worries, all replaced with the sounds of water. He couldn’t stay under forever, thought. Lifting his body slightly, Kenma poked half his head out of the water and took a deep breath through his nose.
It was unsettling, for him, to be noticed, when his entire life had consisted of him trying to do the very opposite. But whether he was noticed for a good reason or bad, Kenma couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, of being known.
It wasn’t like Kenma wanted to think about Kuroo, but his mind wandered to him anyways. Not many people care to speak with strangers, much less walk them home in the dark. But somehow, Kuroo spoke to Kenma, of all people. And he listened when Kenma spoke, and he didn’t pressure him to speak when he didn’t.
I cannot speak to him anymore, Kenma thought, reaching for his shampoo. It’s too dangerous to associate with the police. Kenma poured the shampoo into his palm and began to massage it into his head, working his fingers through the long strands.
He’s probably investigating the drug labs, anyway. That’s the whole reason I was in that part of town, to throw them off. Kenma reasoned. Even if he wasn’t, he probably knows someone who is. Kenma leaned forward and dunked his head underwater, working the shampoo out of his hair. It bubbled into the water, stealing from its clarity and tainting it with soap.
But wouldn’t it be suspicious if I stopped speaking to him? If he already suspects me, running away would make him investigate further. If I just speak to him he’ll get thrown off and go away, Kenma debated with himself as he began to wring his hair of the dripping water. It was a simple idea, one that indulged his curiosity for Kuroo and also gave him a legitimate reason to.
As he began to work the conditioner through his hair, his music cut out, giving way to the song that signalled an all to familiar person’s call. Leaning over the tub, Kenma grabbed his phone and answered, putting it on speaker.
“Neko-chan,” Oikawa sung through the phone.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Aw, Kenma-chan, you could be a bit nicer, couldn’t you?” Oikawa teased. Kenma could taste his signature sugar sweet grin from the other side of the phone.
“You know I don’t like phone calls, Tooru.” Kenma replied, lathering the rest of his hair in the conditioner.
“We aren’t talking about anything serious, Kozume, don’t worry!” Oikawa chirped.
“What do you want, Tooru, I’m taking a bath.”
“Harsh, Kenma. I just wanted to chat, and I would’ve come over but I have to stay at my place tonight.”
“Why didn’t you invite The Three over?” Kenma questioned.
“Ah, they have their jobs to do, much like you and me. And you’re my best friend, Kozume, why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?” Oikawa asked sincerely.
Kenma sighed, dipping the back of his head into the water. “Fine. What do you want to talk about then?”
He heard Oikawa shuffle on the other line. “How about we talk about you? Did you beat that boss yet?”
“No, and I was going to try again in the bath until you called me.” Kenma said, rolling his eyes. It was half true, he would when he finished washing up.
“Aw, that’s no fun. See any cute boys?” He asked jokingly.
Kenma scoffed as he reached for his shaving cream and razor, propping one leg onto the side of the tub. “Like I’d tell you.” He said as he shook the can and applied the foam to his leg.
Oikawa gasped. “So there is someone, Kenma-chan! Tell me more before I die of curiosity.”
“Tooru, if you don’t shut up I will ask Tskukishima to kill you.” Kenma deadpanned.
“Rude, using the Three against me. Speaking of, swing by the shop tomorrow, I’m getting colour work done on a tattoo, and didn’t you mention getting a piercing? Kageyama can speak with you then."
Kenma sighed as he continued to shave his leg. “I guess. I got to go, Oikawa, see you tomorrow.” He said.
“Bye Kozume, sleep well, okay?” And with that, the conversation was over, and Kenma’s music began to play again.
Kenma groaned. Every time he had to see The Three, he felt shivers go down his spine. It was only natural, being around murders tends to frighten most sane people.
The Three was, to the majority of the world, a small tattoo and piercing parlour, invisible unless you were really looking for it, home to the namesake of the store. The Three was not just a place, after all, but rather, a group of people Kenma tended to cower from. Hitmen: and good ones, to boot. Oikawa wasn’t one to skimp on resources, and having well trained, loyal killers was a necessity.
Kenma sighed again, starting to shave the other leg as he worried about the next day. Sure, he saw them so often, they should be considered his friends, but their unnerving personalities tended to scare the best people off. Or, at least, leave them ridiculously intimidated.
Dipping his leg back into the water, he let his head hit the end of the tub. People were not Kenma’s forte.