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Kaito’s been letting everyone down recently, he realizes. He let Amami and Akamatsu die right under his nose after promising he’d figure something out. He let Shuuchi down because he was too stubborn to admit his wrongs (or that maybe that shy little detective boy has become stronger than him-)
Kaito has flaws, he can’t deny. Flaws that run deeper than valleys bleed through his veins and into his lungs. Flaws that suffocate him, choke him up as he takes on more sidekicks, and makes more promises and takes on more burdens and lies more and more and more-
Sometimes he can’t breath.
Like the oxygen from the precious world just can’t find it’s way into his weary body. Like the effort of every mistake he’s made is catching up with him and drowning him with a passion.
He remembers someone saying that passion is a strength, and for so long he believed in that. For so long, he let himself think that having so much will, being fueled by so much rage was his greatest strength. But that has to be a lie. Because he can’t believe a strength would cost him so much.
Because passion is dangerous, Kaito realizes a little too late.
Passion is the burning fire dancing inside of him, flickering desperately when the wind blows wrong. A fire that roars to life and scorns everything that threatens him. He’s burnt himself and so many others over the years, he’s been and left scars. It’s rage has plagued him his whole life. From the purple bruise forming below those lavender eyes, to so many words thrown into a battle nobody was ever fighting.
But maybe, maybe if this scorning blaze can rip open skin, then maybe it could heal it as well. He hopes so at least.
Because right now, there’s a different type of warmth in his chest. It’s not burning from illness, and it’s not a blistering anger, instead it’s much heavier. And it’s coming from the shivering boy in front of him.
Those lavender eyes, hazy from fever as the poison ravages his small boy, look up at him with an emotion they don’t have time to place. His legs wobble as he walks away from the control panel, ready to swap places and send himself to a bitter death. Though neither parties make it to their destinations just yet, instead both hesitating in front of the press.
Kaito looks at Kokichi, and for the first time he swears he actually sees him. No pointy grins and dramatic antics, no villains or masterminds. Just a shaking, dying kid who tried his hardest.
Alongside another kid, who was all bark and no bite. Who used his crafted words to bring empty hope.
They’re like shooting stars, Kaito realizes. Something that’s nowhere near as magical as it sounds. They were never even stars to begin with, but named so. Just two boys who fell into the wrong and atmosphere and burnt up. They were destined to be short lived, but Kaito at least hopes they lit up the sky for even just a moment.
It’s painfully ironic, actually. Viewing Ouma as a star, at the very end.
Kaito used to think Ouma was like a cat. Something less than human that acts as if it’s more, always slinking around and shyly causing mischief. Hunting and clawing for attention he’d never even think he’d deserve. Scratching and hurting anyone who dare come close.
But Kokichi isn’t a cat. Because a cat doesn’t crawl into a skin of lies for a facade just to make life worth living, it doesn’t use feelings as gasoline to burn a bridge it built for itself. It doesn’t create a plan to crush it’s own body to the point of being unidentifiable.
Kokichi’s mouth opens, but no words come out. Instead being replaced by a wet cough that wracks his small frame. He doesn’t seem to be that conscious of what’s going on, as his head spins violently and he sinks to the floor and Kaito’s immediately by his side, helping him up again.
For a moment, their eyes meet and Kaito swears that in another life he could’ve really fallen for Ouma. For just a second, he closes his eyes and imagines actually being friends with him, a blissfully normal life full of pranks and yelling and so many normalities they took for granted. Momota just wants to stay in this moment forever, before they die and pray it wasn’t all for nothing. But he can’t, he knows that because his eyes open at the same time as Kokichi’s mouth.
“At least…..I wasn’t boring, right..?”
There’s hidden fear in those words, as if he’s asking something sacred. His voice is weak and croaky, dying and desperate and Kaito knows he’ll spend the rest of life wishing there was something better he could respond with. Something that could really heal the wound, but for now there isn’t time.
“Of course not, man. You’re….by far the weirdest guy I’ve ever met”
It gets a little laugh out of Kokichi at least, no horse giggle or malicious cackle, just a choked up wet laugh. And that’s enough for Kaito, in that moment. But it doesn’t stop him praying to whatever wicked god is out there that maybe in the next life, Ouma could be truly happy. He wouldn’t be resented, or feared and afraid. He’d just be content, and safe.
That's all Kaito wants. No shiny stars or smiling moons with masses of fame and glory, just a tiny dust of happiness for a boy deserves it after all he’s been through.
Maybe that’s why he takes Kokichi into his arms, he doubts he could even walk at that point anyway, and picks him up softly. His head lulls as he’s carried to the press.
Kaito carries him with such gentleness, and when he nestles Kokichi among the stars and sees his eyes are already closed it brings a sense of relief. Maybe he won’t be conscious enough to even feel every single fibre of his body being destroyed. Momota doesn’t know why he did it, but after tenderly brushing a strand of hair out of Kokichi’s hair, he leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead.
A parting gift.
Or maybe not, maybe death wasn’t quite ready and life wasn’t finished playing. He didn’t expect Ouma to gasp awake in the moment, struggling and whining and panting.
“Kaito I don- I don’t want to…..die please I can- I’m sorry i-”
“Shhhhh, you’re okay, Kokichi. Just go back to sleep, I’ve got you, it’s okay” He cooes and prays Ouma can’t hear the crack in his voice. He takes the boys hand in his own, gently rubbing circles into his palm until Kokichi’s dim frantic eyes drift shut once more,
(and for the last time)
And later, when the deed is done and amount of apologies or punishments will ever be enough to clear the blood off of his hands, Kaito climbs into the exisal and waits with a promise.
He’s let so many classmates down, let so many friends die. There’s so much time that slipped through his fingers, but he’s done with that now. No more lost friends, no more empty promises and no more wasted tears.
He won’t let Kokichi die for nothing. He can’t.
He’ll end this game. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how unbearable the class trial is, he has to do it. He’s got a plan to carry out, and ghosts on his shoulders. He’s got a boy’s life in his hands, he has to make it mean something.
Kaito won’t let another friend down.
..
He won’t let Kokichi down.