the killing keeps us

He’s always figured want has little to do with it—there’s no such thing as desire when there’s a war on, every breath and every movement channeled in the service of necessity, every decision ultimately a question of which battle it’ll be that chooses you. Even entering the Drift with Kuroo had felt like an imperative; Kenma still has dreams about doors being thrown open inside his head, his consciousness sliding together with Kuroo’s, meeting and intertwining. He remembers the bone-deep recognition, the magnetic pull of a familiar energy, the need.

“I don’t think,” he says, careful, “it makes sense to fight alone after all.”