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Embarrassment is not an emotion Saguru is accustomed to dealing with. Whenever he acts, whenever he speaks, his words are bold and self-assured, always true to who he is. He isn’t one to shy away from the things he considers to be the truth. There has never been any shame in saying things as they are. It is simply in his nature to be sincere.
If he were to apply this policy to the present situation, Saguru knows that, rationally speaking, he has no reason to feel embarrassed.
And yet, it sneaks upon him. That overpowering warmth that tugs at his chest and spreads through his cheeks. It is a familiar feeling, one that threatens to eat him whole every time he encounters it. From the get-go, he is already keenly aware of the reason. Even so, he proceeds out of habit: he dissects the problem, breaks down the pieces, examines them closely.
Fact: It is February 23rd, 2021. The time is 9:55:19 p.m. The temperature is, approximately, 7.5 degrees and continues to decrease steadily. Upon the balcony where he currently stands, as a byproduct of the nightly winds, the thermal sensation is even lower.
Fact: Back inside, his former highschool classmates are eating and drinking through the night. Almost five years after graduation, he hears their animated laughs and cheers as they celebrate a long awaited class reunion.
Fact: He’s holding an old letter, one written at age 18. Before parting ways, they had all written one back then. A message for themselves in the future, to be tucked away until now.
Fact: When Koizumi Akako asked about what he had written, he gave the noncommittal reply of “notes about an bygone case”. He has never been in the habit of lying, so this was not a lie, not quite. However, his failure to disclose its contents fully was indicative of the underlying feeling that seethed beneath. The sly smirk in his cryptic acquaintance’s expression made it clear it had not gone unnoticed.
Fact: Guided by that feeling, he had stepped outside. He reread the lines left by a younger self once, then twice, and then a third time, for good measure. More than a letter, it resembles a treatise. The words he wrote once still ring true, even now.
Fact: There are 5 minutes and 19 seconds until the mark of the sixth anniversary of his first encounter with Kaitou KID. Despite the fact he cannot ascertain it with absolute certainty, it is likely he is the only one thinking about this.
“Hakuba.”
Fact: Kuroba Kaito, the subject of the treatise in question, is standing behind him.
“Kuroba-kun.”
Out of everyone I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, Kuroba Kaito is particularly confounding.
“You’ve been acting weird all night, why’s that?” Kuroba steps towards him and takes a place to his side. On instinct, Saguru folds the sheet of paper, shielding the contents from Kuroba’s sight.
Why is that? Saguru repeats the question in his head.
First impressions can be deceptive. He carries through life with the most obnoxious, cheeky attitude, but this hides, beneath it, an undeterrable will.
“I’m just being sentimental.” Saguru says at last, well aware it's nothing more than another half truth he can’t fully justify to himself.
Kuroba looks back at him, ever skeptical.
As opposed to the lighthearted demeanour he shows to most people, whenever I speak to him, I am greeted with scowls and groans in return.
“Huh,” with a soft exhale, Kuroba rolls his eyes and leans back on the railing, “so you’re lovesick, as always.”
I suppose I should find this disagreeable, but I've come to find that his prickly retorts are not something against which I'm entirely opposed.
“Hm?”
“About KID, KID!” The magician gestures wildly and with pointed annoyance. Saguru, all too well acquainted with this expression, can’t help but smile. Kuroba grimaces in response and leans in, flicking at Saguru’s forehead. “You’ve got a cheesy look on your face again. Your brain’s rotten, you know that?”
Discourteous as they are, they are often free of guile or pretense.
Saguru blinks. He raises his fingers over the spot where Kuroba briefly brushed against him. What’s left behind is that same vague tingling sensation. The one that’s uncomfortable and addicting at once. Saguru looks down at the face of the person standing next to him, and laughs a jovial laugh.
“Hah?” Kuroba is taken aback. “What the hell…”
Through his confusion, his annoyance, his embarrassment, I get a glimpse of something that appears to be genuine, honest, authentic.
“Say, did you know?” Saguru starts, nostalgic. “I’ve known you for 5 years, 11 months, 30 days, 12 hours, 27 minutes, and 41 seconds now.”
In spite of the passage of time, every word he’s written he continues to believe.
When I’m around him, there is never a second wasted. Not a single moment can be said to be dull.
Regardless of the years, he’s well aware that these feelings will remain. He has resigned himself to this fact.
“No, I don’t.” Cued as part of an old, enduring routine, Kuroba responds by snapping back at once. “Because I’m not KI—”
A pause.
Kuroba trails off, his attention surely occupied with his own mental calculations. Once he realises his mistake, his shoulders drop and his expression softens, mouth ever so slightly agape with surprise.
“Oh.”
He doesn’t give Saguru the satisfaction of adding a simple ‘ you’re right ’.
The longer I spend with him, the more fascinating sides to him I’ve come to find.
“You were saying?” Saguru chuckles again, a bit more softly this time around.
“Stop laughing, asshole.” Kuroba butts him with his elbow, obtaining nothing but louder, albeit pained, laughter on Saguru’s part. “Why keep track of something like that?
“That’s just because-”
I could say, without a doubt, that meeting him is the most meaningful encounter I have ever had.
That, too, is an objective truth. One Saguru believes in with more conviction than he does the data and numbers he tracks.
With 2 minutes and 47 seconds remaining, another wave of silent emotion goes unspoken as Saguru reflects upon this fact: with or without KID, it’s Kuroba who he has been chasing after all of this time.
“Because?” Kuroba waves impatiently in front of him and snaps his fingers as if attempting to pull him from out of a trance.
Something about a Kuroba Kaito who insistently prods him for answers is quick to make Saguru smile. “...There is hardly anyone else who’s had such an impact in my life.”
“Ugh.” There’s another slight twitch from Kuroba. Another small tremble in his lower lip that speaks of nervousness— or perhaps disgust? Saguru reluctantly allows himself to entertain the possibility.
Kuroba holds his face in his hands without looking at him, and Saguru feels a hollow ache churning in his chest.
“That is simply how it is.” He affirms, unapologetic, maybe in equal parts to Kuroba as he does towards himself, sparing any reservations.
Despite this rough, chaotic exterior, he has an undeniable proficiency at captivating every individual he comes across.
“I could ask everyone in that room, and not one of them would disagree.”
“You have always been remarkably skilled at charming everyone around you.”
In the end, I suppose that this appeal of his isn't something I'm exempt from.
I’m one of the many chasing after him.
“ Ugh. ” Kuroba repeats, more emphatically, now rubbing his temples. “What about you?”
Not quite understanding this line of questioning, Saguru blinks at Kuroba and waits for him to elaborate.
Twenty-three seconds.
“You’ve seen yourself, right?” he adds, “Everyone's enamoured by you. It's annoying.”
Twelve.
Saguru takes a deep breath. For a fragment of a second, his own lip quivers. Hesitation does not become him.
“Everyone does not entail you.”
The phrase is uttered at 22:01:13 exactly. He looks at Kuroba directly, voice filled with warmth. Almost simultaneously, a white dove makes its way through the night sky and perches itself next to Saguru with precise timing.
Kuroba is silent, as is Saguru.
Setting the papers aside, Saguru observes the bird intently. He extends a hand towards it tentatively. It’s a painstaking motion, patient and gentle, in an attempt to make sure it doesn’t fly off.
It is far more docile than he expected. The dove coos pleasantly under his touch as he runs his palm over its back. Saguru notices a clasp around one of the bird’s legs. He removes it with care and it flies off as soon as he does.
Saguru watches it fly away, wistful, and unfolds the small slip of paper it left behind.
Nil sapientiæ odiosius acumine nimio
“Nothing is more hateful to wisdom than excessive cleverness.” He translates, knowing full well that he’s being mocked.
...Or, perhaps, it is more like he’s been chastised.
“— Kaito! Hakuba-kun!”
Nakamori Aoko runs up into the scene, holding a pen and some blank sheets.
“We’re writing new letters now!” She announces, “So we can open these again during our next meeting!”
Saguru takes one and thanks her, as does Kaito with a low grumble. She offers a wink and a thumbs up before running back inside.
The moment he looks at the new page, Saguru comes to the belated realization that the old letter is nowhere to be found.
Kuroba grins at him, smugly, and Saguru knows this is the one person who can utterly defeat him. The one person he’ll willingly, happily allow to do so.
His breathing steadies and, beaming, he begins to write on the new sheet.
The simplest solution is often the best one.
“What are you gonna write?” Kuroba questions as he tries to sneak a peek.
“Just that…”
Regardless of how things go on to develop, I sincerely hope that by the time I reread this, he'll continue to be a part of my life.
“...In five years, when we do this again, I want you to still be by my side.”
There is no scowl, or grimace, or groan. No complaints or averted eyes. Kuroba looks straight at him, unflinching.
“...Why?”
The person Saguru holds most dearly asks this question for the third time tonight.
“Why?” he echoes.
“Yes, I would like you to explain to me,” Kuroba moves forward and takes a hold of Saguru’s arm, “ Why is that? ”
Saguru softens and raises a hand to Kuroba’s cheek. He presses a thumb over the side of his face tenderly. Gives him a chance to pull away.
I’m in love with you. He thinks— He has been from the beginning, and will likely continue to be.
“Isn’t it your job to figure it out?” Affectionate and sentimental, is what he says instead.
“You think you’re real funny, don’t you?” Kuroba puts on an exaggerated pout, but Saguru finds it to be most endearing.
“Hmm, perhaps.”
“I already did, stupid.” Kuroba’s hold on Saguru’s arm becomes tighter, more desperate, and he looks up, expectant. “Have you?”
As a response, Saguru does the only thing he can and meets Kaito halfway.
By the end of it, they both exhale, breaths visible in the night's wind. Saguru loses track of the second, and becomes unsure about whether the heart that dangerously approaches 200 beats per minute is Kaito’s or his own.
At last, Kaito buries his face in Saguru's shoulder and mumbles against it.
“I’ve been waiting.”