Ship: Haizaki Shougo/Kise Ryouta Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke Major Tags: None Other Tags: Swearing, weapons Word Count: 587
***
Ryouta isn’t very proud of his past deeds, but they’re what built his experience and his current skills so he can’t truly discard them as if they didn’t happen. He was a pathetic thief before joining Prince Shuuzou’s Shepherds, lost in the streets among many other people just as helpless as him. Naturally, they tended to stick together, and rely on each other to survive. Not that it implied they were a tight-knit group.
This is why he’s genuinely surprised to learn the latest news circulating in the camp, disbelief painted on his face whenever someone confirms his inquiries and then he sets off to look for that person. He’s striding into tents like a tornado, leaving as soon as he sees that it was the wrong one, ignoring the questioning glances the other Shepherds throw at him.
It then occurs to him that people can’t change that much in the span of two years (what a hypocrite), so he heads to the one tent he’s sure he will find him.
And indeed, Shougo is examining a sword, one they just recently acquired.
Ryouta frowns.
“You’re not supposed to be touching things that aren’t yours,” he says.
Shougo’s raised eyebrow when he turns around signifies he already knew Ryouta was with the Shepherds. This piece of information doesn’t trouble Ryouta as much as he thought it would, given the way they carried out their missions when they were together—fishing for information and making people talk were their specialty, and Ryouta has a fleeting feeling of nostalgia coursing through him.
“You’d know I’m always stealing people’s stuff,” Shougo laughs. “This broadsword is exactly one of the swords my last employer wanted.”
“And you want to steal it to give it to him?”
“Nah, too troublesome. I wasn’t paid the amount he promised because of one fucking missing sword, he’s a bastard.”
Shougo is tracing the curve of the sword, grinning slightly, as he thoroughly looks at it, like it’s the best treasure he’s found in years. Ryouta remembers how fascinated Shougo was by swords, daggers, knives, or anything that can cut down people—they’re his weapon of choice, and he’s damn skilled at it.
Ryouta takes a deep breath, and steps forward.
“Why are you here?”
And Shougo’s eyes shift, the glimmer of passion transforming into one of mischief, as his lips tug upwards in a smirk. He brandishes the broadsword and points it at Ryouta’s neck. Ryouta doesn't flinch.
“I guess I was curious, felt the need to discover the world from another angle, and shit. You disappeared and never came back. Why?”
“We got separated during our last mission and you never showed up at any of our hideouts. Why?”
Days of crawling in dirty streets, injured with no support, hopeful gazes directed at crowds expecting to see a familiar face. Ryouta doesn’t wish to relive those days where he has truly been scared; scared of having failed, or having being left behind like a rag doll.
Shougo’s smirk vanishes, but his eyes are still burning with something akin to disdain and, dare he say, weariness.
“Shuuzou pays well, and he feeds us. I just have to fight. I don’t see why I shouldn’t stay.”
He lowers his hand, and holds the handle out to Ryouta. The latter takes it, silently, and stares at him. Shougo grins.
“See ya later, Ryouta.”
He brushes past Ryouta, waving his hand in farewell, and Ryouta swallows back the feeling of dread he’s been overwhelmed with for the past hours. Everything’s alright.
FILL: Team Himuro Tatsuya/Nijimura Shuuzou, T
Fandom: Kuroko no Basuke
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: Swearing, weapons
Word Count: 587
***
Ryouta isn’t very proud of his past deeds, but they’re what built his experience and his current skills so he can’t truly discard them as if they didn’t happen. He was a pathetic thief before joining Prince Shuuzou’s Shepherds, lost in the streets among many other people just as helpless as him. Naturally, they tended to stick together, and rely on each other to survive. Not that it implied they were a tight-knit group.
This is why he’s genuinely surprised to learn the latest news circulating in the camp, disbelief painted on his face whenever someone confirms his inquiries and then he sets off to look for that person. He’s striding into tents like a tornado, leaving as soon as he sees that it was the wrong one, ignoring the questioning glances the other Shepherds throw at him.
It then occurs to him that people can’t change that much in the span of two years (what a hypocrite), so he heads to the one tent he’s sure he will find him.
And indeed, Shougo is examining a sword, one they just recently acquired.
Ryouta frowns.
“You’re not supposed to be touching things that aren’t yours,” he says.
Shougo’s raised eyebrow when he turns around signifies he already knew Ryouta was with the Shepherds. This piece of information doesn’t trouble Ryouta as much as he thought it would, given the way they carried out their missions when they were together—fishing for information and making people talk were their specialty, and Ryouta has a fleeting feeling of nostalgia coursing through him.
“You’d know I’m always stealing people’s stuff,” Shougo laughs. “This broadsword is exactly one of the swords my last employer wanted.”
“And you want to steal it to give it to him?”
“Nah, too troublesome. I wasn’t paid the amount he promised because of one fucking missing sword, he’s a bastard.”
Shougo is tracing the curve of the sword, grinning slightly, as he thoroughly looks at it, like it’s the best treasure he’s found in years. Ryouta remembers how fascinated Shougo was by swords, daggers, knives, or anything that can cut down people—they’re his weapon of choice, and he’s damn skilled at it.
Ryouta takes a deep breath, and steps forward.
“Why are you here?”
And Shougo’s eyes shift, the glimmer of passion transforming into one of mischief, as his lips tug upwards in a smirk. He brandishes the broadsword and points it at Ryouta’s neck. Ryouta doesn't flinch.
“I guess I was curious, felt the need to discover the world from another angle, and shit. You disappeared and never came back. Why?”
“We got separated during our last mission and you never showed up at any of our hideouts. Why?”
Days of crawling in dirty streets, injured with no support, hopeful gazes directed at crowds expecting to see a familiar face. Ryouta doesn’t wish to relive those days where he has truly been scared; scared of having failed, or having being left behind like a rag doll.
Shougo’s smirk vanishes, but his eyes are still burning with something akin to disdain and, dare he say, weariness.
“Shuuzou pays well, and he feeds us. I just have to fight. I don’t see why I shouldn’t stay.”
He lowers his hand, and holds the handle out to Ryouta. The latter takes it, silently, and stares at him. Shougo grins.
“See ya later, Ryouta.”
He brushes past Ryouta, waving his hand in farewell, and Ryouta swallows back the feeling of dread he’s been overwhelmed with for the past hours.
Everything’s alright.