Chapter Text
It is amazing what the power of force can accomplish. How easily a shove, a pressure, or a hammering can so easily take a life. How even from a hundred meters in the sky, the crafted aim of a gun can send his hang glider careening into the earth's flesh.
Kaito really should be thinking of things aside from the physics of a soft-point bullet. He should be thinking on how he was going to get out of the forest that had so graciously cushioned his fall. There is a search party on his trail, the shouts of men and dogs calling from the brush. They will be upon him in a matter of minutes if he does not get up and move.
It would be much easier if he had not been shot in the shoulder and his leg dislodged on the fall. He cannot walk because his leg will not move right; he cannot crawl because he has no way to stave the blood loss. He would have tried his tie, but he could not get the knot loose enough to slip over his head. He could only stick the fabric into his mouth to give himself some way to bite down the pain and any noises that might follow.
In the end, he has to drag himself across the tangled forest floor, using what roots he can grasp to pull himself one step further. The slide is agony, rocks digging into his chest and wounds with every pull. His leg is no better, every tug making its way down as it catches on every little thing. And the search only grows ever closer.
A part of Kaito knows he should give up. There is no way Kaitou KID alone can escape this predicament. He took it for granted that, since it was Nakamori in charge there would be no guns on the premises. Kaito should have dug deeper into the owner's collection, should have recognized that one of his many displayed guns was a little heavier to one side. He should have been better. Now KID was going to die, one way or another.
At some point, he finds a large tree. Pine, based on the soft needles under his gloves. He pulls himself close to the base of the trunk, tucking himself against the large roots and praying that maybe, just maybe, the search party will overlook him. The chances are slim. He is still in his full garb, the stark white against solid black a beacon for the enemy. It was the point of the costume after all, how unfortunate that he cannot take it off.
Kaito rests his head against the trunk, good arm reaching to brush the pool of needles. He can hardly feel them through his gloves, but the waxing gibbous gives him enough light to watch how they shift. At least he will not have to fail shrouded in darkness. He's been there for too long, Kaito isn't sure he would like it to end there.
The voices are louder now, slowly making their way over. Kaito swivels his head around, hoping to locate the predator before they find him. There are only trees. Trees and shadows that open wide into the maw of darkness. He closes his eyes.
"I'm sorry," Kaito mutters, good hand raising to finally apply some pressure on the bullet wound. The pressure aches. "Seems my show...has reached its end."
Kaito closes his eyes, finding himself lulled in by a soft pull. Down, it asks. Down into a better place, where the pain does not hold power. Kaito considers obeying; what harm could it do? He cannot go anywhere; he will either be caged or die alone. Neither one he particularly wants to be awake for. Even if being found unconscious hurts KID's image, Kaito does not especially care. He just wants the pain to stop.
Something falls atop his head. Something gentle, yet firm; solid. It tangles into his hair, moving his head one way to another in an almost petting motion. Kaito whines into the movement, suddenly aware of the way his head is pounding. He was so close to descending.
"How do you keep ending up in these situations?" a smooth voice asks. Kaito recognizes it instantly, and opens his eyes only because he has to. He has to look the victor in the eye, even if he really does not care. He only wants to sleep. He only wants to be left alone. Instead, he opens his eyes and smiles at Hakuba Saguru.
"Come to collect?" Is the only thing he can cobble together, and even then it's punctuated by a heavy slur of words. Hakuba's hand tightens in his hair, bordering on painful. His eyes are hard, meaning he's thinking. Kaito huffs. "Come now, Detective. You must have something to say."
Hakuba's brow furrows, but he does not answer. He is not even looking at KID anymore. His eyes are looking further, glaring, enraged. Kaito wonders if maybe the detective is also having a hard time with words. KID should make fun of him for that.
Something is slipped into his hand, something round and solid, and then Hakuba is pulling away. The hand that had been in Kaito's hair is gone, replaced by cold night air. Hakuba is speaking. Loud.
"That way! Now!" Hakuba shouts, and then he's gone.
Kaito is left in the dark again, the darkness his only companion. His fingers flex around the object that Hakuba left, half-curious to look but not enough to try. Whatever it is, it is probably a taunt. Hakuba's way of mocking him. He must have lead the KID Task Force away from Kaito, who else could he have been talking to, with the express purpose of leaving KID to die alone. Honestly, Kaito's only gripe with the decision is not knowing what he did to earn it. What could have made Hakuba so mad as to leave KID to die?
It does not matter. Kaito closes his eyes, deciding that now is as good a time as any to take a nap. Slowly, the pain goes away.