He was only fourteen when he witnessed a fight that broke out after school.

The air hung heavy with a coppery smell, asphalt splotched with red liquid that looked like someone doing a bad paint job. Kuroko had no intentions to walk into the scene; a band of alphas and betas hazy with bloodlust blocked off the road, appraising each other's strengths. He held himself together and backed away until he was squeezed between two mouldy walls, shrinking into an insignificant figure. Overhead, the rain-heavy skies thundered tumultuously, masking the roaring of the alphas.

Kuroko barely had the time to blink when he saw red. There was nary a sound when one of them lunged past him and effortlessly lopped off someone's head. No crack, no scream. Only wet squelching that bounced off the road, rolling off to hit an upturned dustbin. Scattered bloodstains decorated the street, stark red on black and white lines.

When alphas fight, it could be for many reasons. Clashing opinions between headstrong pack leaders, claiming mates from one another, violation of territories, the list never ends. Their lesser followers, the betas, were only for show, just to beef up the numbers for boasting. In the end, they abused the strength nature bestowed upon them.

Thinking about it, Kise is no different from them.

He fights brutally—sickeningly cruel.

Kise shouldn't look like he enjoys stabbing his claws into the perpetrator's chest, knife sharp, to rip out a chunk of flesh in his palm. His golden eyes aren't supposed to light up unforgivingly when sidestepping the corpse, ducking as the next assailant throws a punch at him. Kise's usually prim hair billows in the breeze as he lunges upwards, sinking his claws into the man's throat to hoist him up. The man's pathetic struggle of kicking his legs in the air—Kise watches it all with a certain fascination lining his smile, patiently awaiting gravity to do its job of draining every single drop of blood away.

Thick crimson pools around Kise's shoes by the time he's done.

His suit's gone wrong in places he would've fussed over, but he keeps his hands dirty red when he chucks the body away. Kuroko sees the thick holes puncturing the man's throat all the way to his jaw, and is suddenly glad he missed breakfast that morning. They would've gone to waste if he regurgitated them now.

Like a red string of fate that won't wash off easily, Kise's leather shoes draw a line of grisly footsteps when he approaches Kuroko.

"Are you okay?" he asks. Eyes too bright, ears all perked up. Tail wagging low. He reaches out and tentatively touches Kuroko's cheek; a wet smear, confirming his existence right there. Seconds later, as though Kuroko's solidness provides comfort, Kise takes him by the whole and cradles his face affectionately with his palms. "Does it hurt anywhere, Kurokocchi?"

The freshly harvested blood staining Kuroko's cheeks is still warm. Just as warm as Kise's hands.

"I'm fine, Kise-san," he says, keeping his voice levelled. Forehead pressed on Kise's shoulder, Kuroko pretends the spot of red on Kise's shirt is just another bad paint job. He closes his eyes and breathes out. "Let's go home."

There's no need for him to look to know Kise's smiling at his answer.

A human's adaptability is an amazing thing.

the vindictive paradise
16: it's safe right here in my arms

"What do you know about power play, Kuroko-sama?"

His question came out of nowhere, abrupt, steeling Kuroko in his spot. The teacup held between nimble fingers is poised, almost on the verge of tipping over to splash hot liquid all over his clothes. Kise plods over to correct his posture, lifting the china and placing it away on the appropriate saucer to prevent further tragedy from happening in Kuroko's pavilion. As soon as he's done, he straightens up with a smile too cheerful to make Kuroko think he's up to no good, far too close into his personal territory again.

Carefully rearranging his sleeves, Kuroko casually looks up from beneath his tamed fringe, eyes lingering on the illicit curl on one corner of Kise's lips. "What brought this on, Kise-san?"

"Nothing at all." His smile grows impossibly wider, a stitch of laughter in his voice. The shift in his expression narrows his eyes into upturned crescents, reminiscent of a court jester trying to entertain his master. "It's an interesting concept if you want to know, since it might come in useful."

There's nothing about the concept of power play stored in his mind, or even the vaguest recollections he has about snitches of conversations in classrooms. Something about the word 'power' itself makes Kuroko uneasy with how little he knew in order to survive in this palace. With almost a rueful shake of his head, Kuroko murmurs, "I've never heard of it. What is it about?"

His truthful answer obviously puts Kise in a better mood, what with his fluffy tail offhandedly sweeping the ground near his feet. "I just used one form of power play on you just now. Didn't you notice it?"

Did he? The concubine gradually frowns at the thought of playing right into Kise's hands. There's no doubt about it that Kise could whisper the sweetest lies to anyone to get his way, but Kuroko hasn't fallen prey to his charms yet. It's possible that he could be lying, even right now.

His lengthy silence brings laughter to the room as Kise wiped the corners of his eyes, moist with tears. "Yes I did, I just did. You knew I know more about this palace than you do, so you were scared of what information I have with me. I even stood really close to you just to make you feel uncomfortable. You felt intimidated by me, Kuroko-sama, and that's the reality of it."

He'd admit to being confused, a tad bit more confused than usual with Kise's lessons this time around. Tipping his head back to search for answers in the mirthful light of his golden eyes, Kuroko's frown deepens. "So power plays revolve around intimidating someone?"

"Intimidating or forcing someone into getting what you want out of them," Kise rectifies, putting his hands behind his back in the finest example of a tutor educating his liege. "There's a lot of power plays in this world, in many different forms. Some are kind of subtle, and some are just violent, like hitting people and throwing things to vent their anger. Some people get physical when they try to prove their point, and some people prefer playing tricks on your mind just to make you think twice, just enough to make you doubt yourself into believing them instead."

"They just want to win…" Kuroko murmurs, putting a hand to his mouth as he mulls over what Kise's said. "That's the whole concept of power play, isn't it?"

Kise must've heard him, for the smile on his lips wavers for the slightest moment. "That's the nasty truth of it, but we all engage in power plays from time to time. Others do it consciously to manipulate you, but sometimes you unconsciously engage in power play just by ignoring what someone else has to say or interrupting their speech. Power play is an ugly but necessary thing, something you need if you want to get further in this palace, Kuroko-sama. They might not try to control you by physically assaulting you, but they might wage a psychological warfare on you instead. And those things are the scariest."

Kuroko clenches his hand tight. He doesn't want to know, but he needs to know. And need is certainly greater than want. "Why?"

The smile on Kise's lips has turned bitter, almost cynical in its transformation. "Because in the end, you'll behave just exactly like how they want you to. And when you do, it's game over for you."

The fact that Kise bluntly lays out for him is just as unnerving as hearing the emperor's unbarred slaughtering spree, one that made Kuroko question himself again and again and again. Whether people were just manipulating him into believing that Akashi's hands are painted as red as his hair, or intimidating him with baseless rumours just to see him fall from Akashi's favourite ranks. They play with his naivety, stringing him along just to see him perish in the outcome.

"I'll teach you more about it if you want," Kise says, baiting him to go along with it. "You'll use this to your advantage in the future, I'm sure of it."

But there's something about it that sits poorly with Kuroko's wandering mind. Something about power play and the power in his hands. What they expect from him, and what he is willing to give to them. What Kise has shared with him, and what he will do with the knowledge.

The moment Kuroko raises his head to fix Kise a vacant gaze, he already knows the answer to his question. "In this situation, who do you think has more advantage in this power play, Kise-san? You?" he hesitates, lowering his tone into a whisper, "or me?"

A brief flicker of something crosses Kise's expression, unravelling him wholly.

"That's mean of you, Kurokocchi. Whichever way I answer, it's checkmate for me."

"They underestimated you, Kuroko-sama."

With a firm shake of his head, mindful of the many hands carding through his locks, Kuroko corrects him. "Not at all, Kise-san, they underestimated us."

Kise throws his head back with a hearty laugh, infectious enough to get a few of the maids giggling alongside him. Mischievous eyes peer from underneath lengthy lashes, complemented with a smile as though he's won over with what Kuroko said. "You're right, forgive me. Doing an ambush at this time and age, really, what were they thinking?"

"Obviously they're not thinking at all," Fuyutsuki scoffs, wearing the tightest expression she could muster as she flattens Kuroko's hair with thick fumes of sprays. Her handmaiden sisters attacked the rest of the stubborn tufts with serums to even it out. "Unspeakable vermin—should've just stayed where they belonged, right in the gutters. If you brought them back to us, we would've eaten their limbs in front of their eyes. Let them see how cannibalistic we cats get when we're hungry for blood."

"My child would've been happy to get their eyeballs—he has a collection for things like marbles," another maid chimes in, tittering away in her exotic lilt.

Her answer brings much needed laughter in the dressing room, adding to the chatter in the background. It lends a semblance of normalcy to suppress the tension clouding the air. Anxiety will only serve to make him edgier, and he's thankful for their mindfulness.

Everywhere his eyes rove, Kuroko spots his feline helpers with their filed claws carefully pinching through his belongings, teetering on high alert for any signs of disruption of peace. Ears perked up, tails straighter than any broom, they stew about in the room and filled any possible gap with their presence. Banded together to protect him with their bodies should anything unsavoury occur any further, he knows this well enough by now. His safety takes the most importance—there is no point living otherwise.

Kise has called for Midorima's men to receive Kuroko's statement in his palace, and to play the host of a foiled homicide attempt, he has to ready himself to receive an audience of wan-faced men who could ridicule him at any turn of the clock. Being a lesser—what more a new concubine in the palace will not place the odds in his favour, Kise warned earlier, where some may be making 'educated' guesses as to what happened.

"There's definitely going to be someone who's going to say this was all staged and you're just desperate for Akashicchi's attention."

Fuyutsuki does the exaggerated snorting on Kuroko's behalf. She absentmindedly waves a round brush while fixing his hair in tapered layers, grunting. "I dare that minister to say it in front of Kuroko-sama's face when we have that audience later—we'll torch his wings, right ladies?"

Her crowing receives appreciative hooting all around, and Kuroko barely resists the smile on his rouge-painted lips.

His handmaidens may not be the best roses from the garden, uncouth and rowdy like thugs from the streets, but the sincerity in their service puts him in higher spirits. Enthusiasm doesn't necessarily rub off on anyone easily, but it's contagious enough to work its charm on him. He lets Kise chat up one of his stylists to match his wardrobe with the jewelled diadems they put together, leaning into his seat to recharge in time for tonight's ordeal.

Together, the domestic forces in his pavilion work overtime to fashion Kuroko into a statuesque consort, one where none may dare to belittle, one designed to intimidate with the grandeur the emperor bequeathed upon him. One who survives another day and lives to wear another dress. Not many have survived such attempts, what more in an open space.

"Beauty means cruelty, Kuroko-sama." Kise's eyes smile at him in the mirror, weighing heavily on his words. "You must look imposing enough to stop a man in his tracks. If you can do it, then you can easily topple an entire army of men if you want. Don't show anyone you're a mess; it's a sign of weakness."

Kuroko needs no further elaboration on the deeper meaning; it's all stamped out on each letter. The nuance in Kise's tone adds flavour to his warning. A warning Kuroko has to heed, and he has to heed it well for times to come. There is no greater teacher than Kise himself in the art of adapting, and Kuroko's gone through numerous lessons with him coaching along.

"I'll remember that. Thank you, Kise-san."

"You're welcome. Remember, we should be careful with the flatterers." The blond glances Kuroko's way pointedly. Circling a steel trolley strewn with winding pearl necklaces, he picks up a strand and balances it on his palms. "Some of them just want to get on your good side to take advantage of your rising rank, Kuroko-sama. These snakes can smell potential courtesans from a mile away and will do anything to get them as allies. You're loved by the emperor, so naturally you'll be the subject of everyone's envy."

His statement is met with agreeable hums from the bystanders.

One of the nearby maids sighs with a glint of wistfulness. "Kise-sama is right as always. I've seen one of those court proceedings before—they'll chew you up and spit you right out when they've got all they needed. You don't need to worry about the ones who say they're your enemies from the start, just pay more attention to those who readily flock over to your side, Kuroko-sama. They only spell disaster in the long run."

The prospect of himself being a tool is unsettling, just like everything else in this palace, but it is a future he sees no escape from. Kuroko shifts in his seat, mildly aware of the power he hides in his essence as an omega. To use, or to be used. To do, or to be done for. "Their political warfare makes them use whatever means they can get, even if they have to sacrifice someone. To them, us concubines are just disposable trinkets used to get Akashi-sama's attention, isn't it?"

"That's just how things work in the palace. You'll get used to it. Sometimes being cruel to others just means being kind to yourself," is Kise's encouraging reply. "When you've been here as long as I have, you can tell who's planning to sacrifice you on the dining table and who wants you to be his sacrificial lamb. Most of them who came before you barely even caught Akashicchi's interest, but you're lucky—or should I say unlucky?" He chuckles, shrugging. "Now that you're already a target of assassination, we know where you stand. Congratulations, Kuroko-sama."

Close enough to be a threat in someone's plans.

Kuroko understands that much.

"They're going to be merciless during the hearing," Kise huffs, exhaling softly under his breath. "But don't worry, I got it covered. I have a plan."

Marching to the battlefield over-prepared is better than showing up under-equipped, the basic knowledge from the art of war. Seeing no harm in it, Kuroko offers the blond a nod. "Let's hear it out, Kise-san."

His answer elicits relief from the wolf, visibly soothed at his approval. The blond circles the table and the maids clear a path for him, scuttling away to stand by his side. "During court proceedings, it's normal to allow someone else to answer on your behalf. I'd like to ask you, Kuroko-sama, to delegate all tasks of answering questions to me." His eyes narrow, sharpening his point. "Every single one of them."

The maids fall silent at Kise's proclamation, going along their task steadily with their ears twitching for more.

"They'll use anything and everything you say against you. Those guys have their connections, their allies, people who've sworn to serve their family. One wrong word and you won't live to see tomorrow," Kise continues, making quick work of explaining things to him without mincing words. "Forgive my impertinence, Kuroko-sama, but you're still new in this palace. You're already in grave danger as it is so don't make more enemies. If you let me explain things for them, they'll think twice about targeting me because I can take care of myself."

And you can't lies heavy in the air, unspoken out of courtesy.

What Kise is trying to show to him is clear. The endgame is simple: To keep him breathing until the end of the day. No matter how cowardly his spread of selection may be, his survival is the key to ensure everyone else's own. Kise is only watching out for him, doing his job of offering himself as an impregnable shield again. There's not much of the offer to refuse, not that he could afford to.

The reluctance in Kuroko's voice is audible when he verbalises his agreement, fingers curling into the armrest. "I understand. I'll leave it in your capable hands, Kise-san."

The wolf shouldn't look overly pleased at being offered for sacrifice in his stead, but there he is, glowing with a smile on his face as though Kuroko bestowed upon him the greatest honour. Enthusiastically bobbing his head, Kise grins. "You can count on me, Kuroko-sama. Thanks for giving me this chance."

It's as though an imaginary weight has been lifted from his shoulders. A part of him wades through his guilty conscience, knowing that he should be out there speaking up for himself, but this isn't the world he knows. This isn't the world outside the palace walls, the world with his classmates and friends and family. This isn't the world he grew up knowing, and Kuroko hasn't learnt enough yet.

Now is simply not the time or the place for it.

"Put that worried face away, Kuroko-sama." Fuyutsuki taps him on the shoulder to steal his attention. "We have to focus on the small things first to get to the bigger picture. And right now, we need to work fast to make sure we're done before everyone gets here!" She rolls her eyes with much exaggeration, arms akimbo. "Work with us to prove them wrong."

The concubine smiles wryly at her attempt in cheering him up, obliging her request by keeping his lips firmly shut. Her tail dips into a lacquered pot and its tip comes out stark white, dusting over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones in gentle circular motions. Kuroko makes the wise decision to screw his eyes shut when they start puffing him all over with scented powders, filling in his eyelids like he's a colouring book, and finishing him off with liquid lines all over the gradients.

"Kuroko-sama looks really good like this, don't you think?" They whisper among themselves, giggling ever so often when his eyelids twitch with signs of wanting to open—only to get pinched by Fuyutsuki for disobeying her words.

"Don't open your eyes, Kuroko-sama, not yet." This time, Kise's chastising voice rejoins their animated chattering. "Bring it here, please."

Warm hands cradle his chin in a joint effort to provide support, their slender wrists smelling strongly of therapeutic massage oils that belonged in Kuroko's bathroom. The first signs of an icy sting graze his scalp, eliciting a temporary jerk out of reflex. A foreign weight circling his head is unnatural, definitely unlike anything he's put in his hair before. With his temporary visual restriction, he can only wonder what they're up to as they begin clipping things into place, making up for the length of his hair. Members of the dressing room cooing is the only clue Kuroko draws from his surroundings, followed by Kise's appreciative humming.

Just as soon as he feels their hands lifted away from his head, leaving him alone, they return milliseconds later with a vengeance to tack more things on his hair. What a dilemma.

"Is it going to take longer?" he asks, neck growing stiff from the foreign weight resting on his head. Not to mention, his gnawing curiosity is starting to get to him. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Of course, Kuroko-sama." Kise, ever-dutiful, answers for them. "We hope you like it."

Finally given permission, a strange circumstance considering he's the most superior being present in the room, Kuroko's eyelashes flutter as he gradually opens his eyes, mindful of the sticky wetness still clinging on his eyelids.

Sitting on a contemporary high-backed chair, his reflection on the gilded vanity shows no signs of trepidation of what may come. There is only serenity, acceptance, determination. He only blooms vigorously under threat, just as the flower that blooms in adversity.

The stage is set.

And the game has just begun.

Takao Kazunari tags alongside Midorima when they dropped by that evening.

Standing in the garden amidst shivering magnolia blossoms, great wings of blacks and browns are tinged orange with the warm glow of lit stone lanterns. Twilight consumes the skies, draping them in bruising purples bordering on blacks. Midorima's entourage, a sea of assemblymen, all bore the crest of a bird over their chest, embroidered in gold threads over pewter grey robes. Their clothes trail all over the carpet grass as they rustle about restlessly, wings twitching, moustaches bristling, filling the air with their conspiratorial murmurings.

Other betas often seem like inferior subspecies when compared to the impressive Midorima who's keeping guard at the front. His magnificent condor wings are easily twice his size when unfolded—a simple swish from him could inspire a turbulent vortex that could topple them off their feet if they're not careful enough. Such is the strength an alpha possesses.

An alpha like Kagami Taiga, too, possesses great strength should he choose to wield it to his fullest potential.

—well, that's part of why he's here.

Having trained under them for a few weeks, it's hard for him to say if he's made any significant progress on his goal: To be the best bodyguard in the palace. Birds like them and tigers like him aren't really the best of friends, human-wise and nature-wise. Their approach to 'being the best bodyguard' involved strengthening the mind alongside the body. He shudders just thinking about it to this day—no more thirty pages of essays, no more textbooks. None of that has anything to do with being a bodyguard, Kagami's absolutely certain about it.

But now he's getting somewhere after a stagnant cycle of reading, sleeping, and sparring with fellow winged men. A practical lesson, a field trip of sorts as what Takao called it. In today's class on Ethics 101, his cheeky mentor thought it'd be a brilliant idea to get him some hands-on lessons on how the real world works like. His world, in the future. A world with a proper exposure to a concubine, the palace's freshest meat, Kuroko Tetsuya.

Just how much he knows about this Kuroko person, he can't say he's heard of the name before. Not much background profile fleshed out from his official documents either. All Kagami heard from Takao was to keep it 'hush-hush', something about witnessing a proper court proceeding regarding this particularly troubled concubine of theirs. After that, Midorima pulled his ear and dragged him away by the cuff, leaving Kagami alone with more questions than answers.

Within a few minutes of his musings, a feline servant emerges from the doorway, clad in an all-black kimono. Something about its austerity stirred an ominous feeling in Kagami, a foreboding omen awaiting him at the end of the night.

"Thank you for waiting, gentlemen," she calls out, her voice ringing clear through the garden. For such a dainty creature compared to the hulking stature of the men, her words carried loud enough to silence them. "We are now ready to receive everyone. Please, follow us."

At her bidding, similarly clad servants materialized to usher the crowd to step foot into the palace, mustering the politest smile that hides their canines. Kagami relents and tails them from behind, letting the refreshing coldness of multiple air-conditioners wash over him.

Being alone in this crowd of feathers, it's easy for him to get left behind. They aren't afraid to shove their way past him just to totter along behind Midorima and Takao, making as much small talk as they can in the short gap of time they have together. There's something about everyone's ignorance that unnerves him as he treads over the softest carpets he'd ever set foot on, gulping at the sight of the fashionably minimalist interior adorning the walkway. Everyone is used to opulent sights of grandeur and luxury—and some of them couldn't even care less what this is all about.

It's easy to forget a concubine's suffering when Kagami looks at the abundance of wealth they're showered with on a daily basis. And it's a permanent reminder of the internal politics Aomine talked to him about: The pitting of consorts against one another like pit bulls in a cage fight. Their worth is nothing more than as lovely arm ornaments to hang on the emperor's arms. The more, the better.

"Only a concubine's handkerchief knows the true extent of their suffering," Momoi used to say.

Tragic, but Kagami knows it's the truth.

When the maids abruptly turned around the corner of a junction, strutting along a bare hallway lit with recessed lighting, swinging heavy oaken doors open for them, Kagami picks up on the change of architecture in the concubine's quarters. It's like being in two separate continents of the world—to his right could be the Western world and its contemporary furbishing, and to his left might as well be ancient China with its lanterns and screen doors.

He'd barely finished gawking at the many calligraphies dancing across vertical scrolls when the maid calls out, "We now request everyone's cooperation in keeping silent while walking through Kuroko-sama's private chambers. Please walk swiftly and quietly, everyone—to the parlour."

The crowd moves faster than before, jostling past him in a frenzied rush, feet scurrying on the bare wooden floor. All eyes are lost from the gentle beauty evoked by the skeletal arrangement of flowers in lean vases, the sudden bloom of paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The walls packing them in tight spots gave way to a vast space supported by a finite amount of thin banisters, hung with prismatic, almost translucent blinds casting a kaleidoscope of colours on the hardwood.

The cats paw their way through and left him in awe of the mystifying sight, as they roll up each of the blind to guide them through the next set of corridors. As they finally breach the last set of tinkling partitions, Kagami finally spots their destination, an opened door hidden between pillars of arches.

"Please take your seats, everyone," the maids announce in unison as they dispersed to the sides, standing guard. "We will begin the session shortly."

Holding all sense of austerity in its design, with chandeliers webbing the ceiling and black marble flooring, the parlour is cold and spacious. One by one, the men enter and take their seats on deep crimson mats arranged in a grid-like pattern on the floor. Kagami's eyes stray from the impressive girth of the columns supporting a network of embroidered tapestries, each elaborate picture depicting the elaborate myth of mystical animals.

Striding into the parlour only served to make him more jittery than he thought. Somewhere underneath an imposing waterfall of crimson silks, a grand settee towers majestically on a dais, its burnished balsa wood polished to a gleam. Presumably, it is where the concubine will put himself on display for the rest of them to marvel—something Kagami isn't mentally prepared to see.

"You better sit," says Midorima, gesturing to the few vacant spots available on the floor as Takao occupies the one closest to the platform. "Don't start complaining about your legs hurting later."

Kagami holds his hands up in an awkward shake. The reality of the situation is starting to sink its claws into his head, making his vision spin in cycles like his washing machine. "N-Nah, I'm fine, I'll just stand over here. I'm gonna get even more restless if I sit there…"

The condor clicks his tongue, disproving his choice of action. His eyes meander around the room once, taking in how the ministers strategically spaced themselves out on the mats, and shakes his head. "Suit yourself. But don't interfere with the hearing by distracting anyone. If you choose to stand, then stay standing until the end."

At the sound of a distant echo, a rhythmic jingling of sorts, he stops himself short. The subtle sound is enough to subdue the chatty men into reticence, provoking uneasy exchanges of eye contacts from one another. There's obvious dissatisfaction outlining Midorima's glower, but he doesn't verbalise a single word of it, walking out of the conversation just as easily as that. Something's obviously up, but Kagami's not like them. He's never heard them, never seen them—never smelled the scent of their seduction.

But it didn't take him long to acquaint himself with the situation in hand.

Beautiful things do not ask for attention.

That is Kagami's first lesson for the day.

Beautiful things like Kuroko Tetsuya seizes attention effortlessly as he materialises between the grand archways, flanked by his bodyguard Kise Ryota and a dozen of maids trailing behind him. He is the eternal winter with ice sheathing his skin and his hair the colour of the arctic sky. Even the shadows on his face are too harsh a colour on him.

Every step he takes drives Kagami further backwards, every inch of the consort edging closer nauseating him with his poisonous scent. Yet, the innocuous image Kuroko portrays is one of purity, symbolised by the ceremonial garb he wears. With hundreds of pearls embroidered as clouds on his sleeves, the wispy patterns trickle onto the train of whiteness dragging behind him. Under the gentle glow of the chandeliers, the concubine still burns pale in his silvery white robes. Only a touch of warmth lingers on his lips, the warmth of roses decaying on his lips and leaving them swollen red in its wake.

Kagami's never seen one up close before, what more this close. If he wanted to, he could reach out a hand and pluck off a strand of Kuroko's blue hair. But the wary wolf secures the perimeter tightly, walking just right by his guarded consort. There's a telltale warning when Kise's golden eyes trace past Kagami, past his rounded ears and striped tail, and a satisfactory smirk forms on his lips at Kagami's petrified reaction.

Do not, he seems to say, come close to what is ours—what isn't yours.

He barely realised it but he backed up all the way to the wall, pressing his sweating back against the cool surface. His fingers are twitching, his mouth is dry, his throat grates raw with the urge to call out a name—that name, his name—and for the briefest moment, a moment that solidified the sick realisation forming in Kagami's gut, Kuroko tips his head sideways and meets his eyes—

—but the moment is gone as soon as he takes another step forward, plodding over to his dais.

There is something terribly disquieting when you witness a funeral procession; the same way Kagami feels when he witnesses Kuroko parading past his audience of awestruck betas. He emerges bravely from the execution with his head held high as though it wasn't scant hours ago someone tried to murder him.

There is no fear in him: Only readiness to rise above all.

Kuroko ascends the steps slowly, letting the drag of fabric behind him trail off as a white river on the carpets. His servants usher him towards the stiff settee and fuss over him like butterflies to a flower when he takes a seat, arranging how his robes fan out in order to frame the perfection he has become on his throne. Their low murmurings fill the hall; Kise lowers himself into a respectful kneeling position beside his charge, whispering in Kuroko's ear.

Kagami sucks in a quick lungful of air when the concubine briefly meets his eyes again while taking in the scene of his judgment. His world narrows down to the small curve of Kuroko's lips that curve into an 'oh' like he's acknowledged Kagami's presence, like he appreciates having just another feline bystander in this sea of feathered creatures.

One by one, the maids lined up by his dais, their hands pressed flat over their obi. Their wan expressions are unperturbed when Kise rises to his feet, welcoming them with a broad gesture. He is the first one to break out a smile on the stage of death.

"Everyone, thank you for waiting. Court is now in session."

#17: "You can insult me all you want, I don't care." There's no regret in Kise as the man twitches weakly by his feet, struggling with his last vestiges of life. Remorseless eyes looking down on the man, he grits his teeth. "But don't you dare insult Kurokocchi, not as long as I'm alive."

A/N: 1: Originally, TVP 16 is 12k++ words long, but then after analysing the flow of the chapter and how it's divided into sections, I decided to split it into two parts so it'll look better. :'D The second part will be introduced as Chapter 17 instead, and the original Chapter 17 I was working on will be renamed to Chapter 18.

2: This chapter hasn't been beta-read by my usual darling Akai-Anna as this is super last minute and she's busy with Christmas and I'm busy with university so :'D Please forgive any mistakes you see in this chapter.

3: On a serious note, I've been terribly busy with university and if you're usually on my tumblr, you'll notice that I've been missing for quite a while. This is because I'm a final year, final semester university student so I'm really short on time trying to catch up with all my assignments and final year projects and thesis. I'll be graduating in February 2016 so as you can see, I have a few more months to go before I finish my studies. Hence my writing time is incredibly limited, but since I chose to split 16 into two parts, I can try to upload chapter 17 by next week if you readers would like to get a faster update? :'D

What do you think? Please share your thoughts with me~