Chapter Text
The soft rays of light gently grazed her face. Warm and itchy, Kuroko couldn’t help but scrunch her face at the gentle intrusion of the morning light. The most logical solution was to stand up and use the curtain to block the annoying sun, but that would mean walking—and Kuroko was less than enthused with that idea.
She buried herself deeper into the pillow, her face sinking into the soft cushion. Curse that sun , she thought. She would deal with it after she woke up again.
She might have succeeded, if not for the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of sizzling oil that pulled her toward consciousness. Almost involuntarily, Kuroko felt herself sit up. She paused, dazed, facing the blank screen of the television with a hollow stare. A white, fluffy blanket slid from her lap in one smooth motion.
Where was she? This wasn’t her room.
“Ah, you’re awake.” A voice, feminine and clear, came from nearby. Kuroko heard something placed on the table as she tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. “Here, drink this. It might help you wake up a bit better.”
Kuroko’s brows knit together, but she nodded. The figure moved away before she could fully register her appearance. Absent-mindedly, Kuroko took the cup, her hands gingerly wrapping around its warmth. The rich, sweet aroma brought a flicker of clarity to her vision. She took a sip, bracing for a bitter clash on her taste buds, but was pleasantly surprised by how sweet and creamy it was.
The sound of the faucet running soon followed, its gentle hum adding to the warm feeling slowly spreading through her chest.
It was nice.
“Once you’re done, come to the table so we can eat breakfast,” the voice told her. She took a few more sips and, after finishing the drink, began to move. The simple instruction became her sole focus, and she obeyed almost automatically.
She sat at the dining table, her mind still struggling to parse her surroundings, only to see Mii sitting across from her. Mii was dressed in an apron over a sleek black outfit, something an office lady might wear. Kuroko blinked, then stared at the table, which was set with an American-style breakfast; bacon, eggs, and toast.
“Eat up if you don’t want your toast to get cold,” Mii commented, already taking a bite of her own toast, which was dripping with runny yolk and a piece of bacon. Kuroko nodded absently and reached for the spoon in front of her before freezing.
Memories from the prior night flooded back in a dizzying rush.
Oh.
Slowly but surely, her face began to heat with a burning flush.
“I need to go.” Her grip on the spoon loosened in the blink of an eye. Kuroko shot up from her chair with such force that it screeched against the floor and toppled over behind her. A part of her screamed to pick it up, but it was drowned out by the raw panic now seizing her bones.
“But you were just about to eat?” Mii’s voice cut through the air, laced with confusion.
She didn't reply. Her brisk walk broke into a hurried stride the moment she hit the hallway.
How could I let this happen? This is pathetic!
Embarrassing. And for Mii, of all people, to see her like this…
It was utter humiliation.
All she wanted was to be gone, to vanish from this apartment immediately. The image of herself—flustered, fleeing, undeniably rude—was a price she was willing to pay. She couldn't let Mii see her as some desperate, attention-seeking mess. She was an adult for heaven’s sake!
( Even if, in a quiet, humiliated corner of her mind, she knew Mii had already seen right through it. But to hell with that. Right now, she would cling to the delusion that she could still salvage a single shred of dignity from all of this. )
She hurriedly slipped her sneakers on and opened the door, only to feel a hand seize her wrist. The grip was tight and unyielding. Kuroko didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but she did anyway.
Annoyed. Irritated.
That was the first thing Kuroko noticed in Mii’s expression—a clear break in her usual composure, evident in the set of her jaw and the sharp curl of her brow. Kuroko knew she was in for a scolding.
“Is it really too much for you to stay?” Mii grunted, pulling her back with a force that made the thought of prying herself away seem painful. “This is ridiculous. You’re acting like we just had a one-night stand!”
Kuroko flustered at the implication. Her mouth opened in an attempt to form words, but all that emerged was a faint, flimsy noise of protest. The bluntness of Mii’s statement caught her completely off guard. She couldn’t find an answer. Honesty felt like too much, yet silence would solve nothing. She was stuck in a conundrum, paralyzed between responding and enduring the painful quiet.
It didn’t matter anyway. Mii pulled her closer, as if their proximity alone could force an answer. Instead, it only threw Kuroko off balance. Like a fool, she stumbled, only for Mii to catch her, the tight grip finally loosening.
Kuroko immediately jumped back as if Mii’s touch had burned her. It hadn’t, but the reflex was automatic.
She turned to look at Mii, an apology poised on the tip of her tongue.
Except she was intercepted.
“Okay, fine, you can leave,” Mii sighed deeply, crossing her arms as she stared at Kuroko with pure exasperation. “You can’t be reasoned with, and I certainly don’t have time to play tug-of-war. But you can only leave on one condition.”
The sudden shift from confrontation to negotiation caught Kuroko off guard. But she relented anyway, it was far preferable to the brewing storm she had anticipated.
“And what is it?” Kuroko asked, eager for a quick compromise.
As if on cue, a smile spread across Mii’s face, but her eyes, behind her glasses, held an opaque, unreadable glint. There was something vaguely sinister about it. “Wait here for a second and don’t you dare leave before I turn my back.”
“Okay.” That, Kuroko could promise.
A minute later, Mii reappeared with a container of food. She took Kuroko’s hand and placed the warm container firmly into her open palm.
Kuroko frowned. “Food?” Mii nodded. “Why are you giving me food?”
“I don’t want it to go to waste, and I figured you’d be more willing to accept this than dine with me.” Mii tilted her head, a calculated gesture. “It’s a good compromise, don’t you think?”
“Yes, but—”
“Nope, I’m not hearing it. Weren’t you in a hurry? Go on! Shoo! Leave me be.” Mii said, gently but firmly pushing her out into the hallway before Kuroko could form another protest.
The door clicked shut behind her. Kuroko was now standing alone in the hallway, confused, a container of warm food in her hand. She peeked under the lid to find a neatly made sandwich with a few extra helpings of bacon.
Kuroko didn’t exactly know what had just happened, but as she stood there holding the warm breakfast, a single thought echoed in her mind.
What just happened?
The confusion only deepened.
Each day brought another knock on the door from Mii, who arrived first with sweets, then with meals far too generous for one person. A part of Kuroko recognized it as an elaborate ruse—Mii was simply inventing reasons to feed her. It felt like they’d slipped back into their Judgment days, when Mii would grant Kuroko extra sweets as a reward for work well done.
But there was no work now. No objective to achieve, no reason to be rewarded. So what was all this for? Had Kuroko done something Mii deemed worthy of praise?
To Kuroko, it seemed as though Mii were trying to tame a stray. She was offering affection and attention that was neither wanted nor needed. What Kuroko really wanted was to return all those containers, clean and empty, and firmly tell Mii to stop. This meddling, however well-intentioned, was the last thing she desired.
( It made her feel helpless. Small. Like someone who couldn’t manage on her own and Kuroko was anything but that. )
Tomorrow, she vowed. Tomorrow she will refuse Mii’s offer and make herself clear. But today… Today she was still grudgingly savoring the manju Mii had brought yesterday. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.
Curse her weak will and the delicious food Mii kept giving her. If only she had a good, bitter coffee to cut through the sweetness, things might feel more balanced.
She was mid-bite, engrossed in the mindless show flickering across the screen, when the doorbell rang. Kuroko knew speaking of the devil would make her appear—but to have her show up now , just after Kuroko had mustered the resolve to confront her, made it impossible to rise from the couch.
‘ Maybe I could ignore her ,’ she thought. ‘ Surely she’ll buzz off when she realizes I’m not home…’ If Kuroko stayed completely still, maybe Mii would think she was out.
“Shirai-san! I know you’re in there! Your TV is practically shaking the walls, don’t think you can hide from me!”
Drats. Now she really wished she could still teleport.
With a heavy sigh, Kuroko forced her unwilling body into motion, carefully stepping over the scattered cans and empty snack bags littering her floor. She winced at the mess. She really needed to clean, but the motivation continually eluded her.Maybe someday she would muster the diligence to pick up her own scraps and finally get her life in order.
When she finally reached the door, her hand hovered over the cold metal knob as a final rebellious thought surfaced.
‘I could still pretend I'm not here.’
It would be undeniably rude, but if it meant Mii might finally leave her alone... the temptation was startlingly strong.
“Shirai-san?” Mii's voice called again from the other side.
Kuroko's resistance crumbled.
She couldn't bring herself to do it. After all of Mii's persistent kindness, ignoring her now would only deepen Kuroko's sense of sinking into darkness. Being cruel wouldn't benefit either of them. With a weary sigh that seemed to come from her very soul, she felt the last of her defiance drain away completely.
Kuroko slowly opened her door just enough to poke her head out, using the solid wood as a shield against Mii’s searching gaze. It was a habit that had never left her, even long after their powers had faded.
“…What do you want?” she asked, squinting as the harsh morning sun glared over Mii’s shoulder. Even with Mii blocking most of the doorway, sunlight still pierced through, relentless and accusing. Had she really stayed up all night again? She hadn’t even noticed the time.
“You look like hell,” Mii said bluntly, and Kuroko grimaced. She was already regretting answering.
Kuroko tried to shut the door. “Wait—!” A hand shot out, catching the edge. “What do you think you’re doing?” Mii protested.
“Closing the door,” Kuroko gritted out, throwing her weight against it. But Mii was unbending and deceptively strong.
“Just hear me out! Please?” Mii pleaded, her voice softening unexpectedly.
“Alright,” Kuroko relented, releasing the pressure. She leaned out just enough to fix Mii with a wary look. The other woman seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, though Kuroko couldn’t begin to understand why. “Fine, I’ll listen. But make it quick, I don’t have all day.”
“You’re so pouty…” Mii murmured, almost to herself.
Kuroko’s eyes narrowed. “I’m starting to reconsider now.”
Mii answered with a rueful grin. “Well… I was thinking,” she began, her fingers nervously tracing the band of the ring on her finger. An uncharacteristically shy expression crossed her features, it was so unusual that Kuroko tilted her head, questioning whether she was seeing things. “Since it’s the weekend… What would you think about spending the day together? I know it’s a lot to ask, bu—”
“ Pass ,” Kuroko cut in instantly, shoving the door closed once more. Of course, it was useless with how Mii’s shoulder was already firmly wedged in the doorway.
“You don’t have anything to do today!” Mii shot back.
“Maybe I do!”
“That’s bull and you know it!”
“Just leave me alone, would you?”
“Not until you stop being so stubborn! It’s the weekend—come out with me!”
“I don’t want to go out!” Kuroko grunted, straining against the door. “Mornings suck, and I’m not going anywhere!”
“It’ll be good for you!” Mii insisted, leaning harder into the push.
Kuroko’s heels slid slightly on the floor. “Since when are you this pushy?!”
“Since you started acting like a hermit!” Mii argued, shoving harder. Kuroko could feel herself being overpowered, her heels scraping against the floor. The door between them groaned faintly, feeling more like a temporary barrier than actual protection the longer their struggle went on.
Kuroko’s socks slipped on the polished floor just as Mii gave one final, determined shove. The door flew open without resistance, and Mii stumbled forward with a yelp, her momentum carrying her straight into Kuroko.
They tumbled down in a tangle of limbs, Mii landing squarely on top of a thoroughly unamused Kuroko. The impact knocked the air from Kuroko’s lungs with a soft ‘ oof’ . For a moment, they lay there in a heap on the floor amidst scattered convenience store bags and discarded clothing, accompanied only by unceremonious grunts and groans—most of which came from Kuroko, who was fervently wishing for a different outcome of what her morning had come to be.
“I really shouldn’t have opened that door…” Kuroko grumbled to herself, staring up at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape.
Mii, meanwhile, seemed to be taking her sweet time recovering. She pushed herself up slightly, her hair a mess and her glasses sitting crookedly on her nose. “I’m so sorry! Are you o—”
“ Get. Off. ” Kuroko’s voice was low, dangerously calm, and laced with enough venom to make Mii flinch.
She began to scramble backwards, sitting on Kuroko's stomach wasn't the most ideal position, after all. But as she moved, her eyes swept across the room properly for the first time, and her concerned expression morphed into one of sheer disbelief. She froze, still straddling Kuroko, but now staring in horror at the state of the apartment.
“Kuroko Shirai!” she exclaimed, her voice shifting from apologetic to scolding in an instant. “What the hell is this room?!”
And just like that, Kuroko found herself being lectured by the very woman who had just tackled her to the floor. It was a twist so utterly annoying she could only sigh in resignation.
Mii wiped the sweat from her forehead, a small hum of satisfaction escaping her lips. Kuroko’s living room was almost clean.
After gathering all the empty cans, half-finished water bottles, and scattered plastic bags, she’d stuffed them into a black trash bag Kuroko thankfully had on hand. She’d wiped down every surface, then made Kuroko vacuum the floors while she’d tackled the mountain of containers, many of which she recognized as her own, were now washing quietly in the dishwasher.
What a weekend this had turned out to be. She’d half-expected to be rejected outright, even after forcing her way in. But spending the day cleaning Kuroko’s apartment? Unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
Even if the girl herself was now sulking in the corner, slumped against the wall and mumbling under her breath like she was the victim in all of this.
A bead of sweat rolled down Mii’s temple. Okay, maybe she had been a little… assertive, barking orders and reorganizing Kuroko’s space without much warning. She knew how reluctant Kuroko was to let anyone in, physically or otherwise. But Mii simply couldn’t help herself. It was unacceptable to see her once-polished junior living sleeping in what was essentially a nest of empty cans and neglected laundry.
It was a flaw of her, this impulse to fix things she held responsibility over, especially when it came to Kuroko, it rang loud. She really ought to fix it one of these days.
Even still…seeing Kuroko pout like that—knees drawn up, back turned—Mii couldn’t help but see the ghost of the junior she once trained. A younger and more optimistic child, pouting and kicking at a stray pebble after being scolded during training.
Mii bit back a fond laugh. Instead, she walked over and crouched beside her, leaning in just enough to gently intrude on Kuroko’s brooding space. Kuroko stilled for a moment, her posture straightening almost imperceptibly at Mii’s presence before she deliberately slouched again, sinking back into her brooding silence.
“You know,” Mii began softly, “if you sulk any harder, your face might actually stick that way.”
Kuroko didn’t turn, but Mii saw her lower lip jut out in a petulant pout.
“...”
“You ought to clean your room every now and then, you know,” Mii continued, her tone light and conversational. When Kuroko still refused to respond, Mii shifted her approach. “Hey,” she said, her voice dropping to something more encouraging. She used her most persuasive tone, promising it would be worth it. “How about this? If you help me finish up here, I’ll treat you outside. I know you’ve been emptying the sweets I’ve been giving you, and seeing you’re still munching on them… How about we buy a lot more when we go out?”
Kuroko’s shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly. Mii hid her smile, pressing her advantage.
“And after that,” she added, “we can stop by the park?” Kuroko’s posture tightened again, a clear rejection of the idea. Quick to compromise, Mii immediately changed her tactics. “Only if you want to. We can just go straight back home if you prefer.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Kuroko turned her head just enough to peer at Mii from the corner of her eye, fixing her with a deadpan expression before turning back to face the wall.
“You’re treating me like a child,” Kuroko grumbled, her voice muffled against her knees.
“You’re acting like one,” Mii replied, her tone light as she nudged Kuroko’s shoulder playfully. “If you don’t want to be treated like a kid, maybe try acting like the adult you claim to be.”
In one sudden movement, Kuroko had her on the floor, pinning her down. Strands of pink hair spilled across Mii’s chest, faintly tickling her skin. Her junior stared down at her with a look Mii couldn’t quite interpret as she caged Mii’s arms firmly against the floor on either side of her head.
Caught completely off guard, Mii could only stare back as Kuroko loomed over her, eyes burning with something raw and unreadable.
“Is this adult enough for you?” Kuroko’s voice dropped, husky and low.
Mii’s cheeks flushed in surprise, but her quick wit soon resurfaced. She began to giggle despite the dominance at play, making Kuroko’s posture break.
“What’s so funny?” Kuroko demanded, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
"You." Mii smirked, tilting her head playfully without breaking any of the eye contact Kuroko has been giving her. “You know...Most adults I know don’t try to be all sexy and intimidating while smelling like wet socks and moldy takeout.” She made a show of wrinkling her nose. “Seriously, when was the last time you showered?”
The effect was instantaneous.
Kuroko’s defiant expression crumpled into one of pure humiliation. She scrambled backward so fast she nearly tripped, a strangled, undignified sound escaping her throat as she put as much distance between them as possible.
Mii sat up, watching with amusement as Kuroko sniffed her own hoodie and scrunched her nose in disgust. When she noticed Mii watching, she shot her a glare that was all bluster and no bite.
“Get out!” she yelled, voice cracking with embarrassment and frustration.
Mii just smiled. It wasn’t very threatening at all, but she stood up anyway, deciding to take it easy on the younger girl, even if she was deeply tempted to stay and poke the beehive a little longer.
She caved, brushing nonexistent dust from her clothes with exaggerated care. “Alright, alright, I’m going,” she said, her tone light and unchallenging. She paused at the door, glancing back over her shoulder. “But seriously, take a bath Shirai-san, I’ll come back later. With real food once you're done and decent.”
“And what makes you think I’ll let you in next time?” Kuroko shot back, though her defiance was undercut by the flush still high on her cheeks.
Mii grinned, leaning slightly against the doorframe. “You would’ve thrown me out for real earlier if you really wanted me gone.”
“You—! Just go!” Kuroko snapped, hurling a couch pillow weakly in her direction. It landed halfway between them with a soft thump
Mii chuckled softly. “One hour,” she repeated gently but firmly before slipping out and closing the door behind her, leaving a flustered, sulking, and newly self-conscious Kuroko alone on the floor and scrabbling mess.
Mii stepped out, closing the door softly behind her. Another small victory. If she kept this up, his gentle, persistent nudging—maybe she could really guide Kuroko back into the world. With time, perhaps that familiar confidence would return to her steps, that light to her eyes.
Yes. It was working.
She really was doing the right thing.
But the moment she crossed the threshold into her own apartment, the composure she’d so carefully held together crumbled. Her knees went weak, and she leaned back against the door for support. The bright, encouraging smile she had worn for Kuroko trembled and fell away. She covered her burning face with both hands, a soft, flustered sound escaping her.
“Ugh, this is so embarrassing…” Mii groaned into her hands, her voice muffled and warm with a fluster she couldn’t shake. It was utterly shameful, the way her heart had stuttered when she found herself pinned under Kuroko’s gaze.
She’d gotten so… beautiful. When did that happen?
Time had sharpened Kuroko’s features into something striking and elegant. In that moment, under the weight of her intense stare, she looked like someone who’d stepped straight out of a fashion spread. How could someone be that compelling while smelling like mold and neglected laundry?
And she still carried that natural, effortless beauty no one else could replicate.
‘ Does she even realize the effect she has? ’Mii wondered, her thoughts spinning. And since when did her Kuroko become so… bold?
She’d always had a tenacious streak, but this…this she knew was different. To have that intensity directed at her…
It was completely improper!
“I can’t believe I almost fell for that,” she whispered into the quiet of the hallway, pressing a hand against her chest as if to steady her racing heart. “That was way too dangerous… Get it together, Mii. You’re here to help her, not get distracted.” Yet even as she scolded herself, she cupped her warm cheeks, feeling a helpless, irrepressible smile begin to bloom.
Today was a success. She could only hope there would be more days like this, even if it meant stubbornly, gently guiding her junior back into the world one small, reluctant step at a time.
After all, what kind of senior would she be if she didn’t look after her most wayward ward?