Kenma lays there agonizing over what to do, and all at once, the fear that something terrible is going to happen crushes him. It's irrational, but he can't stop, so he tries to intellectualize his thoughts, but all it does is add fuel to the flames. He can't fix anything and he can't come to some sort of conclusion because ultimately, Kuroo could be thinking anything. And at the moment, Kenma can't think of anything else besides how he's managed to fail Kuroo. This isn't what Kuroo needs right now, he should be focused on healing himself and moving on from his past, Kenma feels is so selfish for trying to expect anything more from Kuroo, he needs a friend right now, a friend to support and be there for him.

Kenma takes a deep breath to clear his mind, that settles it, when Kuroo returns home he'll apologise for being a neglectful friend and promise to do better. Still... something is bugging Kenma, something separate from what he'd been thinking about earlier, the persistent fear that something is going to go wrong. Three hours pass and Kuroo still isn't home. Worry for Kuroo permeates throughout the house and affects everyone. It's daylight still but it's uncharacteristic of Kuroo to not answer his phone for hours.

More hours tick by and Kenma is hit with a wave of strong fatigue, he lays down on his bed to rest, cradling his phone in his hands just in case Kuroo calls him back. He still can't seem to shake the feeling that something is wrong. Even as he falls into a drowsy slumber worry claims his body.

What seems like hundreds of locations race past Kenma's eyes, some linger just barely longer than others, a library, a dark street, but then stops so hard it gives him whiplash and leaves his head spinning, Kenma darts his eyes around, realizing he's in a trainyard, even though it's the dead of night his eyes hurt like they can't manage to adjust to a bright light that isn't there and something within that he can't explain pulls him toward the shipping yard in front of him. He's searching for something, menacing shouts and yells sound off behind him as he passes row after row of rusted shipping containers, but none of them have what he's seeking, but all he can do is run deeper into the seemingly never ending shipping yard.

Kenma jumps and scrambles off the bed, doused in sweat, spouting half formed sentences in a crazed panic. Akaashi is immediately by his side, hands on his shoulders, "Kenma-san, it's me, Akaashi, you're okay, you're at home, you're safe." Akaashi's calm voice brings Kenma back to the present moment, enough to recognize that he's not dreaming, and that many hours have passed.

Still out of breath, Kenma's tone is urgent, "I know where Kuroo is."

"What?"

"He's trapped in one of the containers in that shipping yard nearby— I know it— I saw it in my nightmare." Akaashi immediately plunges into deep thought. Whenever Kenma described his nightmares he always talked about locations flashing in front of him and disjointed, fractured memories that aren't his own. These dreams have apparently plagued him since he was a child, so Akaashi supposed it could certainly be plausible that Kenma has clairvoyance. This time, Kenma's voice is softer, coated with worry, "I think he's in serious trouble."

Calling the police or some other authority is out of the question. They'd stop listening the second they knew Kuroo's a demon familiar and find a way to somehow criminalize him. Akaashi only sees one option. "Then we don't have time to waste."

1882. That year the minister of finance introduced a new policy that left Daishou's deadbeat father bankrupt. In the government's haste to industrialize before they could get colonized they turned a blid eye as they ruined the lives of thousands of people.

His father sold the farm to some rich parasite and kicked Daishou out, he said he could no longer support taking care of him. What a load of horse shit— as if that man had ever properly taken care of Daishou a day in his life. It was just an excuse to get rid of him now that he was old enough and strong enough to overpower his father. Whatever. At least he was free from his father's clutches. Since he was a child that man had overworked him in the farm. Whenever Daishou failed to meet the quota of harvests for the day he was beaten. It started when he was very young and he got used to it, he learned to just let everything blur out of focus. People could see the bruises, the newest marks his father had left him, everyone knew what was happening to him, but they just looked the other way. To intervene would cause too much trouble— what could they do? It's none of their concern to begin with.

With nowhere else to go and no useful magic skills he went to the city looking for work, he'd thought that nothing could've beat the back breaking work he used to do harvesting crops from dawn till dusk on his father's farm, anything was better than the beatings.

He lived in an overcrowded house rented out to others just like him: people barely managing to scrape by with the cruel hand life dealt them. Like every other morning the moment Daishou woke up he was on autopilot. He rolled off of his cot on the floor and dressed for work. To call it morning was generous. It was around 4am and Daishou was trudging his way to the silk mill so he could work 16 hours and get paid whatever spare coins his boss found in his pocket.

It was supposed to be a day just like any other.

The hours blurred together. The clunking of heavy machinery and voices blurred together. The same mechanical movements every minute of the day blurred together.

Crunch.

Everything shot back into focus. A pain worse than anything Daishou'd ever felt before shot through his body. Anguish, panic, fear— the feelings weld up in his throat.

His arm had gotten caught in the gears.

Crunch.

The shock leaves him enough to scream. His coworkers look over. He can feel their eyes on him. Why aren't they doing anything?

Crunch.

The machine doesn't stop, it's still pulling him in, shattering his bones beyond repair. Why won't they move? Why won't they turn it off? Why can't he breathe? Why can he taste blood in his mouth?

Crunch.

Everything slows down. He can feel the white hot pain in his legs. He can feel it in his teeth. He can feel it in his skull.

Crunch.

The last thing he saw was their faces, eyes turned away in horror.

Just like everyone fucking else.

Daishou smells the blood before he even opens his eyes. It's all around him. He's drenched in it. He looks around, the factory's in ruin, bodies torn limb from limb strewn across the floor.

His arm— it's whole again as if nothing happened to it.

Daishou sits there on the floor for a moment and lets everything sink in. He did this. He looks around at the bits and pieces of human remains scattered around and feels no remorse. He feels nothing. At the sound of footsteps approaching his mind snaps into high alert. A tall man with wild black hair and a wicked grin approaches. He wears a dark red yukata and casually enters the building and approaches Daishou, unfazed by the carnage around him. He chuckles. "A crime of passion I see."

"Your eyes— they're completely black." Apprehension laces Daishou's words.

"Same as yours. I saw your handiwork earlier, you seem fun— albeit a bit slow. 'Think you could use a hand getting cleaned up, right?" The demon outstretches his hand.

His whole life as a human, not once had someone ever offered to help him.

Daishou grabbed his hand and Kuroo pulled him up with a smirk.

The night air is stagnant and humid as Kenma comes upon a hill, and just like his dream had led him to believe, there was the trainyard tucked in a valley between two large hills. Bokuto, Akaashi, Yuuji, Hinata, and Kageyama follow closely behind him.

"It may look deserted, but I can feel the demons' anima stinking up the place." Warns Yuuji.

"It won't be long before they sense that we're here too— remember: our goal is to keep the demons out of Kenma's way while he looks for Kuroo-san." Everyone nods in agreement, even the two young, rowdy, familiars nod with a rare set of serious expressions on their faces.

"And Terushima-san—" Kenma adds, "thank you for agreeing to help us."

Yuuji smiles, "Anytime."

Kenma takes a deep breath to steel his nerves, but it fails to calm his pounding heart. "Alright then, let's move." They cascade down the hill in silence, taking the formation of a protective circle around Kenma as they go. In an instant plumes of inky black smoke come pouring out of every corner of the trainyard— the demons clearly anticipated this arrival. Kenma's heart feels like it's lodged in his throat, but he trusts his friends, they won't let him down. The demons come from either side but Hinata and Kageyama use their magic to keep them at a distance. A wall of stone shards and air so hot it's shifting between gas and plasma separates the group from the demons.

Two demons manage to push through and pick off Hinata and Kageyama from the rest of the group. "We got this, keep going!" Hinata calls after them.

Kenma's been practicing magic in his free time with Kuroo, it's become easier to to manifest spells without giving verbal incantations. His eye's dart from container to container and he sends out his anima, searching for that familiar comfort. He finds it for a fleeting moment before narrowly avoiding a suckerpunch to the face. Yuuji and Bokuto cover for him, leaving just Akaashi and Kenma to retrieve Kuroo. The shouts and grunts of friends and foes fade into the background and the sprint towards the crate Kuroo's in feels like it spans years, the sound of his heartbeat deafening in his ears. Kenma skids to a halt in front of the crate, Kuroo's in there, he can feel him. Akaashi takes a step forward but Kenma beats him to it, Kenma raises his hand to the shipping crate, it's encased in a white glow, and with a clench of his fist and a quick muttering, he launches the entrance of the crate away.

Daishou whirls around to face them, shock painted over his usual devious facade. He quickly assesses the situation and returns to his usual self. He smiles, "I see the master was missing his newest toy, I played with him a bit if that's okay with you." Kenma does his best to not react to the sight of Kuroo so bloodied and bruised but he's clenching his jaw so hard it might break. Daishou grins at the sorrow in his eyes.

Akaashi steps forward, putting a hand on Kenma's shoulder to remind him that he's not alone in this fight, his voice coated with a cold fury, "I don't know what you want with Kuroo-san but this is your one and only warning: stop this now or else we shall descend a wrath upon you unlike anything you've ever known."

The snake's words come out poisonously sweet, "I'm sorry, but what I want with Kuroo is none of your fucking business. Let me feel this wrath of yours, I want to see it turn to anguish when I drain the life from both of your eyes."

Kenma's eyes narrow into slits, an unreadable yet chilling look on his face, Daishou may have gotten under his skin, but not in the way he'd intended. "So be it." Immediately hoards of stones, broken glass shards, and rusted scraps of metal are telekinetically launched at Daishou. He dodges the worst of the barrage by shifting in and out of his demonic smoke form but his body still gets littered with a few medium, mostly shallow cuts. Without a moment to recover, Akaashi appears before him, with the grace of a dancer, he sends a solid kick enhanced by green flames to Daishou's face. The kick leaves Daishou stumbling to regain his balance and his cheek stinging, it wasn't enough to burn away the skin. He charges towards Akaashi, fists and legs encased in a magic black light that doubles someone's normal amount of pain. He throws a punch but Akaashi dodges and grabs his arm and throws him to the ground. Daishou uses the lower vantage point to grab Akaashi's ankle and pulls it out from underneath him. Akaashi doesn't have enough time to get back up and is pinned to the ground by Daishou. He gets one punch in before Akaashi ignites his entire body with green flames. He jumps off him— hands burnt and parts of his clothes singed— and rolls to the side, evading another wave of stones and glass. His hands are throbbing with pain, a quick glance down at the palms of his hands reveals tender, blistered, red skin. A Daishou shifts into smoke and reforms behind Akkashi, who turns to punch him with another fiery blow. Daishou knowingly sidesteps and gives him a swift kick to the side. This time Daishou is blindsighted by Kenma's telekinetic attacks: they're following after him like homing missiles. This support from the sidelines is proving to be a serious hindrance to him. Daishou feints a punch and uses the stutter of Akaashi's movements as a chance to kick his feet out from underneath him, stomp down on his face a few times and make a break for Kenma—  who's obviously vulnerable in physical combat.

Kenma doesn't have enough time to cast a purifying spell, but this is exactly what he wants: take the focus away from akaashi for just long enough. Kenma's not strong or particularly fast but he just needs to stall for long enough. Kenma hurls objects at him in an attempt to slow his advance and manages to dodge a punch, but his luck runs out and Daishou pushes through the pain in his hands and lands a punch right across the cheek. It knocks Kenma to the ground and leaves his head spinning and skin on fire. Kenma's hand slices open on a big piece of scrap metal and Daishou kicks Kenma in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs. He kicks again and Kenma's sure that there'll be a nasty bruise there tomorrow. Daishou moves to kick him a third time but Kenma throws the piece of metal in the air and with his magic plunges it deep into Daishou's abdomen. "Perfect timing Kenma-san." Daishou clutches his abdomen and whirls around to face Akaashi and he's greeted with the sight of a blinding white blaze.

"Fuck— no—" Daishou screams in anguish as Akaashi begins to blow a stream of white fire over his body, but it's interrupted by the withering cough of Kuroo, free of his bindings and slumped on the floor. Despite their battered conditions, Akaashi and Kenma both run over to him.

Kuroo tries to speak but is hushed, "save your strength, okay Kuroo?" Kenma's voice is soft. The two of them help Kuroo stand and when they look around, Daishou is nowhere in sight, but it looks like their friends defeated the rest of the demons.

The walk to the hospital is a painful one for everyone involved. They tell the doctors the bare minimum: that they were attacked by demons. Obviously, the most seriously injured person is Kuroo. Kenma sits by Kuroo's hospital bed, worry radiating off of him as he studies his bandaged up hand. The good news is that thanks to Kuroo's healing factor he'll be strong enough to go home tomorrow, and with proper rest the broken rib will be fully healed in two weeks. But Kenma can't shake the worry from his mind, that demon was the same one he saw at the circus, the same one he thought he'd seen in the store, the same one leading Kuroo outside in his dream. What's his grudge with Kuroo?

"Oi Kenma-san," Kenma looks up to see Hinata standing at the door frame, he looks drained, but mostly injury free, "I know you're worried about Kuroo-san, but you shouldn't be, Kuroo-san is a good person, even if he's a demon familiar." Hinata moves to sit next to Kenma and puts a hand on his shoulder, "Once he wakes up we'll all figure it out together, okay?"

Kenma gives a little smile, "Right. Thank you Shouyou." He pauses, "I didn't know Kuroo told you he's a demon familiar?"

Hinata lets out a sheepish laugh, "Well, a little birdie might've told me and I might've told Kageyama and Yachie and Yachie might've— er, well, I think you got it."

Kenma hums in acknowledgment. He's pretty certain that by a little birdie he probably meant a certain owl.

The sound of chirping crickets travels through the humid air. Daishou slams his fist into the hard metal of the now empty container— it does little to temper his fury. The quiet, cold voice of Kiyoko sounds from behind him, "enough, Daishou-san."

Daishou bristles and whips around to face her, ignoring the stabbing pain in every bone in his body, in the very depths of his anima, "what did you say?"

"I said enough, you've called in all your favors from me and I will not help you in your silly little game of chase any longer."

"Silly little game of chase? What the fuck do you—"

"Just look at yourself. You've been touched by flames of purity and it's slowly claiming your anima as we speak. Admit it Daishou-san, this was never about teaching him some sort of lesson; you've behaved like a fool, like nothing more than a petty ex lover. Kuroo-san made his choice and he has friends to help him back it up, so let. It. Go. If you truly want to continue wasting your time then you may do such, but I will not have any part of it." Kiyoko departs with a puff of smoke, leaving Daishou alone in the shipping yard, split lip, bruised, burned, cut skin, and metal firmly lodged in his abdomen. He's never felt so mortal.

The dizziness from blood loss is setting in and he screams in rage, punching the container once more, the sound echoes into the night.
.•°.•°.•°.•°.•°
hello! it's been a while. I still plan on finishing this, but exactly when remains to be seen. I'm unsure when the next chapter will be out as I'm currently re-structuring the final chapters of this work. I also will be re-writing past chapters. Thank you for reading all these years later and hopefully i'll see you soon.