Chapter Text
In the back of his mind, Kuroo knew this was probably a dream. The thought flickered into his awareness and was gone, because there were much more important things in front of him. It was dark. He was in the attic. Kenma was near him, safe and warm. Something was calling Kuroo downstairs.
The need coiled in his gut, made him move away from the comfort of his bed. He was through the attic door in a thought, climbing down the steps, almost slipping through them in his hurry. Then he was on the ground floor, curling himself out of the stairwell and listening to the sound that had drawn him down.
Nekomata’s voice.
His master’s voice.
The hallway was before him. It was long, straight, shades of grey, countless doorways leading off to rooms on either side. Nekomata was in one of them. Nekomata was calling out. He didn’t know, couldn’t make out what Nekomata was saying. If he was closer -
He moved.
Nekomata was behind this door, he knew it.
Pushing forward he phased through, looking around expectantly. Nekomata’s favorite armchair was empty. He wasn’t sitting at the table. He wasn’t standing by the fire. Light was flickering from inside the mirror, reflecting unlit candles. The doorway on the far side of the room caught his eye and he listened.
Nekomata was that way, he was sure of it.
He moved again.
The room next was empty as well.
Kuroo could still hear Nekomata talking, the sound clearer. He was talking to someone. The language, Kuroo didn’t know the language, but he knew Nekomata’s voice.
Nekomata needed him.
He moved forward again, ignoring furniture as he traversed the space from room to room. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing but space. Nothing but emptiness. Nothing but rooms filled with mirrors reflecting things that weren’t there.
Nekomata was growing more frantic. Kuroo ran faster. His master needed him. His master was angry - no, afraid, but Nekomata was never afraid - his master was -
Silent.
Kuroo was falling, and all the lights were swallowed up in the darkness.
He woke up.
For a moment, Kuroo felt trapped by the blankets that cocooned him. He blinked his eyes, trying to realign his mind to his current reality. A nagging sense of guilt and loss coiled low in his gut, making him paw his way out of the blankets and look over to see if he could find Kenma. Looking towards the western window of the attic he frowned, heart clenching. That was Kenma’s favorite afternoon spot. His sunny spot. Normally he was there, though he might be out on the town. Kuroo frowned, then heard a noise from the other end of the room.
What he saw when he looked over made him relax. There was Kenma, curled up on the windowseat. For some reason he was staring out at the front yard. He didn’t look happy, but then again, Kenma was often annoyed by something or other.
That was normal.
And he was here.
Kuroo lay back on his bed, stretching and shifting out from under the blankets, letting his black paws kneed into the fabric. He really hated that dream. Memory, dream, nightmare, whatever. Kenma said it wasn’t a memory, because Kuroo had been sleeping the night Nekomata disappeared. They’d both woken up the next day wondering where he’d gone. That day, Kuroo remembered with clarity. The night before -
Maybe Kenma was right. Maybe it was just a dream.
Frowning to himself Kuroo rolled out of bed and stalked over to the window seat. He studied Kenma a moment. He was in his normal form, halfway between human and cat, and of course wearing clothes. Kenma always wore clothes when he was like this.
Well, almost always.
The swish of the Kenma’s tail was distracting. Kuroo knew it meant Kenma was agitated, but as a cat, all he wanted to do was pounce.
Kuroo weighed his desire against the knowledge that Kenma wouldn’t appreciate such actions. Reluctantly he turned his attention away from the tail, eyeing instead the way Kenma was sitting as he leaned against the window. He had a lap. By the way his ears twitched back, Kuroo also knew Kenma was aware of his presence, so what he was planning to do next wouldn’t be a complete surprise.
He jumped.
Kenma shifted, lifting an arm without taking the eye of the scene in front of him. It gave Kuroo space to crawl into his lap, curling up and snuggling close. Kenma reached down and petted him absently before speaking.
“We have a problem.”
Closing his eyes, Kuroo waited for him to continue.
“There’s a woman outside, with a moving van.”
Kuroo turned over on his back, lazily peering up at Kenma. “Maybe it’s for the house down the road?”
“No, she’s coming our way - ah, and she has -”
“What?” Kuroo asked, deciding to see for himself. He turned, looking out the window.
The woman was climbing down from the truck, followed by two smaller creatures with bright orange on their heads. It took Kuroo a moment to realize it was their hair. He wasn’t the one who went out and about, normally - did humans come in that size?
“Are those small things humans?” he asked.
“They’re children,” Kenma said, flicking his ear. “You should know that.”
“Why are they colored like that?”
Kuroo stared down at the two small children as they raced around the yard. He was momentarily distracted from the woman until he heard the click of the key in the lock.
“Maybe they’re just visiting,” Kenma said.
Kuroo glanced up at him, seeing the worry hidden behind his eyes.
Kenma frowned, hand reaching out to pet Kuroo again, pulling him close. “Maybe they won’t stay.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo said.
Internally, his mind was racing. They’d never had to deal with this before. The only human who’d ever lived in the house was Nekomata. A groundskeeper sometimes came by to take care of the outside of the property, but people didn’t come inside.
Nekomata had said that no one else should live in the house. He’d said he’d make sure that Kuroo and Kenma would be taken care of after he was gone. But for a human to live here, he’d said, was dangerous.
He wasn’t supposed to leave as soon as he did, but he had. The house was supposed to remain silent. The house was supposed to remain safe.
Now, there were voices downstairs. People running, hollering, yelling at each other to be quiet. It was wrong. It all felt so very, very wrong.
“What are we going to do, Kuroo?” Kenma asked.
“Something,” Kuroo said. “We’ll think of something. We can figure out how to get them to go away. Other spirits do it all the time, right? In stories?”
Kenma nodded slowly, attention still on the cacophony downstairs.
Wiggling out of Kenma’s arms, Kuroo shifted, pulling Kenma into his lap and stroking his back. “Don’t worry,” Kuroo said. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll get them to go away.”
“Yeah,” Kenma said, leaning against him more readily than usual.
They’d never had to haunt anyone before. Never had to deal with any threat like this before. Home was safe, and happy. Home was Kenma, and reading Nekomata’s books, and playing in the garden in the back.
But now, everything felt off.
Kuroo nuzzled the top of Kenma’s head, thinking. He could fix this. He would fix this. He didn’t want Kenma to be unhappy.
So, he’d just have to figure it out.
~~~~~~~~~
Maybe everything would be fine.
Kenma didn’t really believe that, not in his heart of hearts. He could still remember Nekomata warning them that no other humans should live in the house. The old man had looked straight at him as he said it. He didn’t know why. Kuroo had pressed him once for an explanation, but Nekomata always hesitated, looking at Kenma.
For a while, it had made him think that he was the problem.
Humans didn’t seem to be negatively affected by his presence, though - well, other than occasionally losing a garment or two as Kenma had need. He enjoyed wandering among the laundry lines as a cat, watching the dance of wind and fabric. Sometimes an extra-soft-looking shirt would find its way off of the line and into Kenma’s possession. It wasn’t a big deal. After all, he’d probably cause more of an issue if he walked around naked.
Not that Kuroo would mind.
Which was, perhaps, another reason to make sure he was able to be fully clothed when in human form -
But he was getting distracted.
Kenma dawdled at the top of the stairs, thinking it over.
So he was relatively sure that he wasn’t the problem - or at least, he wasn’t a problem now. Nekomata hadn’t actually said that no humans should ever live in the house, had he? Maybe it had just been time-dependant. Maybe it was only dangerous while Kuroo and Kenma were too young to fully control their powers.
After all, human’s - well. They weren’t great. He still avoided them in human form as much as possible, and tried to keep from drawing much attention as a cat. Some weren’t so bad. There were a few older people in the neighborhood who set food out for him at the shrines in their gardens. A couple even had enough awareness to know what he was by sight, and there was one old lady he liked to visit, but, well. None of them really bothered him.
He did his thing, and they did theirs.
So not all humans were bad. Maybe these would be livable.
Making up his mind he padded downstairs, long tail swishing in the air. The hallway was quiet. He could hear the humans running around in another part of the house. Carefully, he crept into the living room, sniffing at the new scents left behind by hastily-washed bodies bumping into old musty furniture. One smell was light, with hints of apple and bubblegum. He liked apples. There was something different about this scent. Chemical, maybe? He hopped up on the edge of the chair where it was the strongest, rubbing his nose against the velveteen fabric. He licked at it, but the only thing he tased was the dust from years without a thorough deep-cleaning.
Probably shampoo, then.
A gasp behind him made him turn his head, eyes widening at the short redheaded girl in the doorway.
“Kitty!” she yelled.
Kenma panicked, scrambling away as she rushed him. In a desperate bid for safety he dove under the china cabinet, thankful that her arms were too short to reach the far corner he was able to squish himself into. Feet thudded down the hall and burst into the room, a slightly deeper voice arguing with the girl that “there was no kitty, they didn’t have a cat.”
The conversation thankfully dissolved into normal childhood bickering. Kenma pressed as tight as he could away from the edge of the cabinet, fearful that at any moment the older boy would give in to his little sister and look to see if she was actually right.
After a bit he calmed down, logic replacing some of the fear in his mind as the two children continued to argue.
She had seen him. She shouldn’t be able to see him.
She could see him, and had those grubby little hands, grasping things that had flailed around under the edge of the china cabinet as she tried to reach him.
It was terrifying.
He’d hoped it could be different. It all seemed like far more work than he really wanted to put in. But in the end, he knew, Nekomata had probably been right.
The humans had to go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kuroo was not prepared for the sight of Kenma rushing up the stairs and practically flying into his arms. Fortunately he was fast enough to toss his book to the side and catch the cat. He let out a soft oof as the weight of Kenma’s body hit his stomach, and immediately started checking him over for injuries, fingers running through the short silky fur. Kenma was trembling. Kuroo was angry.
Feeling a slight change in energy he lifted his hands. Kenma shifted in his lap, fur melting away into pale skin as his limbs twisted and lengthened until the only things that remained of his cat form were the ears on top of his head and a long twitching tail. Kuroo was definitely not used to his best friend transforming on his lap, but any feelings of shock were pushed aside by Kenma’s obvious distress. Humming softly Kuroo hugged him close, hands rubbing up and down his back as his mind raced to try and figure out what had happened.
“You’re ok. Are you ok? What happened? Was it Daishou? I swear, I knew it, I’m going to go over there and rip him a new one, I don’t care if does have those other snakes to back him up,” Kuroo babbled, feeling panic rise up in him when Kenma just held him tighter.
The snake spirit lived with some of his friends in the woods on the other side of the fence by their garden. He and Kuroo were known to have loud arguments over the fish in the koi pond in Nekomata’s yard. Kuroo wouldn’t put anything past him and his crafty manipulations.
Still, he knew it wasn’t Daishou who had upset Kenma. Kuguri would’ve protected Kenma even if Daishou had tried to start something, not that Kenma needed protecting. And really, honestly, even though Daishou was an ass he wouldn’t actually do something to seriously upset Kenma.
Kenma should’ve laughed at him for even making the accusation, but Kenma wasn’t laughing right now.
He wasn’t even really reacting, not even when Kuroo started poking and prodding to make sure Kenma wasn’t injured. Things were rarely ever this bad. Kuroo let out a small whine, hugging Kenma tighter and wishing he knew what to do.
Finally, Kenma sighed, huffing against Kuroo’s neck.
“Are you ok?” Kuroo asked again, relaxing a tiny amount at the nod he felt against his skin.
He leaned back, nuzzling the top of Kenma’s head and watching the sun sink below the horizon. Slowly, ever so slowly, Kenma’s grasp on his back loosened.
Humming a moment, Kuroo asked, “What happened?”
Kenma moved, slowly lifting his face from where he’d been hiding it against Kuroo’s skin. Frowning, he looked to the side and crinkled up his nose. “Children,” he said finally.
“Children?” Kuroo asked, slightly dumbfounded.
“Yes.”
Kuroo frowned, racking his brain to try and understand what had happened. Sure, he knew the humans had to go, but why was Kenma so upset? Were they loud? Did they have some strange food? Maybe they were tearing up the furniture? None of that seemed to explain things, though.
Evidently Kenma saw this on his face because he scowled. “She saw me! The little one. She tried to touch me, Kuroo. Tried to pet me.”
It wasn’t what he expected.
Kuroo bit his lips and tried to look concerned. He reminded himself that Kenma’s panic was nothing to laugh at. Still, now that he knew there had been no lasting damage, the idea of a little human trying to pet Kenma was a little bit funny.
Kenma hit him.
“Hey!” Kuroo said, rubbing his shoulder and pouting. “I didn’t laugh!”
Looking disgusted, Kenma said, “She saw me, Kuroo. When I wasn’t planning to be seen.”
“Oh.”
Kenma huffed and looked to the side, starting to scoot back on Kuroo’s lap.
“Hey, hey,” Kuroo said, rubbing his hips. “I’m sorry. I was just really worried when you came up here and were so upset. I’m just glad it wasn’t something....”
“Something serious?” Kenma said, wiggling out of his grasp and stalking over towards the pile of blankets on the far window-seat.
“Hey, Kenma, Kenma,” said Kuroo, following and watching mournfully as his best friend disappeared beneath the blankets. “Don’t be mad. I know it’s serious, I’m just glad you’re ok.”
He sat down, one hand reaching out to rub Kenma’s shoulder through the layers of fabric.
Well, he’d thought it was his shoulder.
Kenma stuck his head out from under the other end of the blankets and scowled at him. Whoops. At least this time Kuroo was wise enough to look properly guilty instead of laughing at the utter mess Kenma’s hair had become.
Sighing he sat back, pulling a pillow into his lap and opening his arms. Looking disgruntled, Kenma slowly hitched his way back into Kuroo’s lap, sticking his feet out of the bottom of the blankets and twitching his toes in the air.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Kenma said, hands sneaking out from under the blankets and curling around Kuroo’s arms as they pulled him close.
Kuroo nodded, lips lightly brushing against the soft fur on Kenma’s ears. “Maybe it was a fluke? Maybe she’s just because she’s a young human. I’ve read that sometimes the young are more sensitive.”
Tilting his head to the side for a moment, Kenma shrugged. “Maybe,” he acknowledged. “It wasn’t just seeing, though. Her fingers brushed my hair for an instant. I felt it.”
That was serious. Kuroo frowned, fingers shifting to interlock with Kenma’s. Just the thought of Kenma being caught by the human - picked up, held, touched in ways he didn’t like - that bothered the hell out of Kuroo. Kenma didn’t like being picked up by anyone most of the time, especially in cat form. He’d even taken issue with Nekomata doing it, and Nekomata had been good at pets.
The fact that being caught was a possibility was even more disturbing.
Normally humans only saw them if they wanted them to. Nekomata had been the exception, but then again, Kuroo didn’t exactly consider Nekomata human. Kenma went out all the time without being bothered by humans. Sure, sometimes he allowed them to see him, especially once he’d figured out what money was and Kuguri had showed him where he could buy apple pie - but that was by choice. If a human being could see them, touch them, well.
It wasn’t like they were defenseless, but defending themselves wasn’t anything they’d had to do. It was far easier to just fade into the woodwork when a human came around. Even his beef with Daishou was more threat and bluster than anything serious - the snake got under his skin so he returned the favor.
They hadn’t ever actually gotten into a fight.
Frowning, Kuroo nipped at the tip of Kenma’s ear with his lips, pulling back when it flicked and tickled his nose. “We need to get rid of them,” he finally said.
“Agreed.”
The only question was how. Nekomata’s library was extensive, but he didn’t recall a How-To manual on evicting humans from your place of residence. The closest he’d seen were a few ghost stories.
“Maybe we can haunt them? You know, pull pranks and the like. We could go downstairs and do it, they’re probably asleep by now.”
Kenma tilted his head to the side, exposing a neck that distracted Kuroo from the problem at hand. It really needed to be nibbled.
Then he realized that Kenma had been naked in his lap earlier and he hadn’t even noticed.
Granted, it hadn’t exactly been the time to think about Kenma being naked. There had been more important things to focus on, like Kenma having a massive anxiety attack. Still. Kenma. Naked. In his lap. With him naked. Because Kuroo rarely saw the importance of clothes. And now Kenma was naked underneath all these blankets. All Kuroo had to do was -
Kenma shifted, staring up at him a long moment with eyes that seemed to see right through him.
Fighting back the flush that threatened to travel from the tips of his ears to his nose, Kuroo said, “It’s a good idea!”
Kenma just raised an eyebrow.
Swallowing, Kuroo said, “The pranks, I mean. Obviously.”
“Mmmhmm. And not whatever other ideas were running through your head right then?”
Kuroo shrugged, sighing mournfully as Kenma pulled away and cocooned himself back in the blankets.
“I don’t want to go downstairs again tonight,” said Kenma.
He looked so forlorn that Kuroo wanted to do nothing more than snuggle him to sleep. Kuroo knew from long experience that snuggling probably wasn’t an option by this point, however. Kenma was pulling into himself. The world had overwhelmed him, and it was time to recenter. He was already tilting his head to look out the window so that he could watch the moon.
Kuroo sighed, pushing himself up from the window seat. “Fine then, I’ll go myself. Feel better, ok?”
Kenma nodded, ear flicking back to show he’d heard. There was nothing more that Kuroo could do up here. He paced towards the stairs, snagging a pair of shorts just in case one of the little terrors was still awake and could see him. Creeping down the stairs he reviewed his options. He wasn’t really all that experienced with tricks.
Daishou was a trickster, but there was no way Kuroo was asking him for advice. He probably didn’t know anything about haunting, anyways. There was the plant fairy who sometimes tended the plants. Fairies were supposed to be good with tricks, right? But Kuroo was pretty sure that Oikawa had gone off somewhere with his beetle boy, and there was no telling when they’d be back.
No, he’d have to do this himself.
He padded into the kitchen and looked around glumly. Running both hands through his hair he racked his brain for any sort of inspiration. Then his gaze landed on a pair of squat cylinders in the middle of the table.
Kuroo smiled. Yes, that just might work.