Work Text:
The first thing KID said when they’d reached the stairwell was—
“Witch, can you stop the bleeding?”
Akako said nothing, but she knelt down next to Aoko anyway and laid her hands beside hers on Hakuba’s abdomen. An invisible spark, like static, leapt out to zap Aoko when their skin touched. She didn’t let up pressure.
“Focus on his organs,” KID instructed. “Don’t let his body shut down. He just needs to make it to surgery. If you can stabilize him, get out of here. If not, you’ll have to wait.”
“It’s not fatal,” Hakuba murmured.
“Don’t get chatty, Detective.” There was something vibrating in KID’s voice—something like rage. “Why did you bring these children here? This is no place for them.”
Hakuba said nothing, but he cast his eyes up to the shadows below KID’s hat brim.
“Shut up,” Aoko said, voice unrecognizable to herself. KID had already turned on his heel to leave. “Wait! My friend—he’s not answering his radio. Have you—do you know—”
KID had turned his head back, nothing more than shadow and silhouette beneath the dim emergency bulb.
“If he’s smart, he’s hiding,” KID said colorlessly.
Aoko felt tears prickle up behind her eyes and blinked them away furiously. “Please,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t want him to get hurt.”
Voices in the hall. KID’s head snapped back to look. “I’ll draw them away from here,” he said. Then, finally, “If I find your friend, I will help him get out of here—if I can.”
“Promise me!” Aoko’s voice rang out in the echoing stairwell, shrill and strident.
“Quiet,” KID snapped, then—“On my honor.”
Then he was gone.
“Aoko.” Hakuba’s bloody fingers found her wrist.
Her eyes were burning again. “Idiot,” she hissed. “Why did you—you could’ve let him get hurt.”
“You could’ve just let him—” Hakuba grimaced. “Let him go.”
But she couldn’t have, and neither could he.
“Akako?” she asked, needing to know, but terrified of the answer.
“Shh.” Akako’s face was screwed up in concentration, and she was sweating violently. Aoko could smell her effort.
She lapsed into miserable silence, every second they stayed crouched over Hakuba’s slumped form on the stairs stretching interminably out. Every distant shout sent a knife of adrenaline through her—afraid to be discovered by the people who had tried to shoot KID, yet wanting to call out for help from her father’s subordinates. Her terror was alive inside her, like an animal ready to spring from its burrow, teeth bared. How did KID function? Did he not feel fear? Aoko felt small and precarious, the truth of their mortal vulnerability spread out under her hands. Her arms and shoulders ached, but she didn’t dare release pressure, even as it seemed that there was less blood seeping out under her fingers.
When the door opened she nearly screamed, and hope raced like electricity through her—but it was only her father. He was not alone, and people rushed in to take over care of Hakuba. Akako sagged like a wilted plant, and Aoko put an arm around her to keep her from sinking right down to the floor.
She realized she was crying. Kaito, still in the wind, taking the time to find her father, to send people to find them. Gratitude and bitterness made a sick cocktail in her chest.
“He’s alive,” Akako murmured. “Kuroba. I can feel him.”
Aoko didn’t know what to say. She struggled for a moment, ducking her head, knowing they had only a single moment left alone together. “Okay,” she said finally, and then her dad, seeing the blood, seized her hands, patted her body with frantic roughness. “I’m fine,” she said, “We’re fine.” But she wasn’t, and she didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t seem to stop crying.
“Just sit,” her father said, and took off his jacket, wrapped it around her shoulders. “The ambulance will be here soon.”
Aoko sat on the stairs, Akako beside her, the comforting smell of her dad pulled close around her. She had to stop crying. Nobody would let a traumatized girl onto the scene of future heists. For there would be more, wouldn’t there? It wasn’t over.
She had never seen Akako so diminished, like fog that hid the sun. Nobody looked at her. She was still beautiful—but ordinary. Just a girl.
“I didn’t know it was like this,” she said finally, just for Akako’s ears.
“He didn’t want you to,” Akako said.
Aoko finally sniffed away the rest of her tears. She scrubbed at her face with her sleeve. The bitterness was crawling up into her throat.
“Why?” she asked at last. Why lie to her? Why do this—any of this? Why was someone trying to kill her best friend? “When Hakuba is recovered. We will talk—all of us.” Her fist twisted in the lapel of her father’s jacket. “Kaito won’t want to, though. Can you… Will you help me?”
The emergency responders arrived. Aoko watched them descend on Hakuba. They would check on Akako and her next—for the shock, but also for the police report.
“I will help you,” Akako said.