#yeah the chapter isn't super specific as to whether or not Kuroo's mom is dead

[nimbus-cloud]

Dear Mom...

A Kuroken collaboration (thank you Ch. 318) Story by @nimbus-cloud Art by @mookie000

Our previous collaborations:  Something Old, Something New (x) Longing (x) 

More fic and more art under the Read More!

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“Oh yeah, mom told me to tell you that you’re ‘welcome over’ for New Year’s,” Kenma mumbled through his scarf as he and Kuroo made the short trek back home from the grocery store.

During winter, he hated leaving the warmth of his room (mostly his bed) for anything, but running a quick shopping errand for his mom wasn’t so bad when his dad made sure to give them a little extra for snacks.  Kuroo or no, his father understood that he needed more than your average incentive to go outside.  

Kuroo’s mouth twitched with a smile at the invitation before he could quite think to keep it in, but he quickly straightened his expression and dropped his eyes to his shoes.  

“Ah... thanks but... dad and I will be going out of town that weekend.”  

“Oh...” Kenma couldn’t help sounding a little surprised, but he didn’t question why.

Kuroo bit his lip, chapped from the cold—he didn’t have a nice thick scarf on like Kenma—and debated telling his friend the reason.  He wanted to go over to the Kozume household, and he wanted Kenma to know that.  He’d argue with his dad for permission if only...

“We’re gonna go visit mom,” he said finally.

Kenma fumbled with an awkward step, but still said nothing.  Kuroo felt like Kenma’s silence was courteously leaving room for further explanation, and he felt compelled to fill the empty space it was leaving in the conversation.  

“Bring her flowers, tidy her grave a little, that kind of thing.”  He shrugged and tried to keep his voice sounding casual.  He didn’t want Kenma to think he was sad.  “Maybe next year!”  

He grinned wide but Kenma remained at an uncomfortable loss for words.  The words he needed for his friend were too big, and he didn’t know them, couldn’t hold the weight of them with his eight-year-old hands.  So he nodded his head meekly in reply, and Kuroo smiled for the both of them.

Because truthfully, he really wasn’t sad.  Not really, not for himself anyway.  He knew it was harder for his dad, with his bigger adult heart.  It made the sadness bigger too probably.  That’s why they’d moved away from her, away from the home that held all the memories of her.  And that’s why Kuroo made sure to reach out and hold his father’s hand as they walked down the neat little rows of family plots.  He only let go when they reached hers and knelt down to pray.  

He clapped and bowed, then with eyes closed and hands clasped, he spoke to her spirit in his heart, never once doubting she’d hear.

I made a new friend, mama.  His name’s Kenma, he lives nearby in our new place, and he’s just a little bit younger than me.  He’s kind of quiet and likes to play video games the most, but now I’ve got him hooked on volleyball too.  He’s really smart, and I like playing with him.  I know you’d like him, and I’m glad we’re friends.  Dad misses you, more than he’ll say.  I hope he finds a friend like I did.  Help him if you can, mama.  I’m doing fine.

--- 9 years later ---

The very first time Kuroo had visited his mother’s grave—nine-years-old and forced to leave his volleyball in the car—he’d been allowed little more to do than to place flowers and pray.  At less than half a year since her ashes had been placed within the family grave, there’d been little to clean then and his father hadn’t trusted him to light any incense.  Now that he was grown they shared the tasks equally and worked in silence together washing the grave stone, pulling out the weeds and overgrown grass, and neatly arranging the flowers they’d brought.  Kuroo placed the bundle the Kozume family had kindly provided, which they’d done every year after Kenma told his parents why Kuroo went away at the end of every year.  

Lastly, Kuroo and his father lit one incense stick apiece, and clapped their hands and bowed.  

Mama, we made it to Nationals!  Nekoma, the team that Kenma made—we did it!  Not only that, this year we were reconnected with an old rival school from Miyagi, Karasuno.  You wouldn’t believe how crazy they are.  And how much fun they are to play against.  It’s the most fired up I’ve ever seen Kenma get, and they made it to Nationals too.  It’ll be the rival match of the decade, mama.  Make sure you’re watching!  

His father patted his shoulder suddenly, offering his son a wry smile.

“Did you ask her to watch over you for college entrance exams and graduation?”

He looked down at his father sheepishly and quietly said, “...I told her about Spring High actually.  And asked her to watch us play.”

His father opened and closed his mouth, probably biting back a reproach of some kind.  He might never have discouraged Kuroo from playing volleyball, but he’d never quite understood his love for it either.  

“Well... you’ve always been smart so exams were in the bag, I suppose.  Volleyball was the unpredictable one.”  Then after another glance at the black gravestone he added, “She’ll watch you for the both of us.”

“She always has,” Kuroo smiled.

He’d never doubted her support—or his father’s, despite his absence—and he’d tried to be the model student to make sure neither would worry about his future.  

But there was one little thing he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell her, even in his prayers, even though she could no doubt see it all.  If he really believed she could hear him call out to her in his heart, then surely she knew of the love that had sprung there and who it was for.  But he hadn’t said it or thought it explicitly yet, so it still felt like a secret somehow.  

Next time, he promised.  Next time, I’ll come without dad.

---5 years later---

“It’s nice not having to do this in winter,” Kuroo mused as he pulled hard on a particularly stubborn patch of weeds.  “And with so many other people around.  Makes the cemetery feel less creepy.”

Kenma made a face at the ‘other people’ comment.  Obon was the traditional time of year for people to go visit the graves of their loved ones, and the cemetery was practically bustling, if only people weren’t here for such a solemn reason.  Kenma poured water gently over the gravestone in silence, thinking that to be quiet was to be respectful.  He wanted very much to be respectful.  He also wanted to hide his nerves.  

As if Kuroo could guess at his anxiety, he kept talking.  “One year, dad wanted to drive up extra early in the morning, I can’t remember why, and I was almost too scared to walk past the gate.  It was misty, and there was no one else here, and I was cold and scared of ghosts.  But dad wanted to avoid the crowds like this, so we always came up around New Year’s.”

Now satisfied with his pruning efforts, Kuroo removed his gardening gloves and took up the flower bundles from the water bucket.  He passed one of the bunches to Kenma, who took them without saying a word still.  Not even a peep.

“Think of it this way,” Kuroo said quietly.  “It’s not the first time you’ve given her flowers.”

“My parents sent those,” Kenma protested, finally breaking his silence if only to set Kuroo straight.  He bit his lip almost immediately; he didn’t want to argue in front of Kuroo’s mom.  

“They were from all of you,” Kuroo smiled.  “Your mom always said they were your idea.”

He knelt down to place his bundle and Kenma mimicked him slowly.  The flowers they’d chosen were predominantly red in color.  ‘For Nekoma,’ Kuroo had joked, but for other reasons too.  Red for good fortune.  And for love.

They took one incense stick each and lit them, then clapped their hands and bowed and prayed.

I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last visit, mama.  I don’t have a good reason for it, but I wanted to say sorry.  I finally brought Kenma to meet you!  I care about him a lot, mama, I think you know that.  He’s been my best friend my entire life.  My best friend and more.  

The gold ring on his left ring finger glinted in the setting summer sun—a ring that matched the one on Kenma’s left ring finger—rings that marked them as definitively more than best friends.  

You’re the first to know.  I’m not sure I could even tell dad, and we’re not sure how Kenma’s family will take it either.  I don’t know if you’d give us your blessing but—

Kuroo nudged Kenma’s shoulder with a lean and smiled as their eyes met.  Kenma had had his eyes scrunched rather tight, praying in earnest, but once he’d opened them he seemed a little less sullen, perhaps from a burden lifted.

“What’d you tell her?”

“An embarrassing story about the time a bird pooped on your head,” Kenma said flatly.  “Just in case she wasn’t watching that day.”  

Kuroo gave an expression of utter betrayal, but Kenma continued.  “Which is why I told her I’d take care of you.  And that she doesn’t have to worry about you.”

“Kenma...”

“And I thanked her,” Kenma kept on, fighting the silence he’d clung to earlier.  The words flowed out like water now, and he knew these were the words he didn’t know to say back when he was eight, the words he could never have dreamed he’d need.  

“I thanked her for giving me you.  And I apologized to her.  For keeping you to myself.  I told her I’m proud of you and she should be too.  And that I’m going to do my best to make you happy.”  His eyes turned to the slowly burning incense and mumbled, “I don’t know if she’ll believe me...”

Kuroo grabbed his hand and laced their fingers together, and he hoped his mother was watching.  “She does.  You’ve made me happy my whole life, and she’s been hearing about it every year since I was nine.”  

Kenma flushed and he hoped the reddening sunset would be kind and help hide his blooming embarrassment.  

#kuroken #haikyuu #kuroken fanfiction #collaboration #mookie #fanfiction #writing #yeah the chapter isn't super specific as to whether or not Kuroo's mom is dead #just that his household is himself and his dad and his grandparents #they might just be divorced who knows #but we piled on the sad instead and went for dead #hq 318 #p.s. there's more art under the read more