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Kaito sneaks off to the men’s restroom after the third class trial.
The moment the door closes behind him, he lets out a loud sigh, slumping against the restroom door. He feels queasy—and not because he just saw Korekiyo be turned into a spirit before being exorcised by Monokuma. Whilst watching Korekiyo be boiled alive was a nauseating experience, Kaito feels ill for another reason.
A cough crawls up his throat, and Kaito braces himself. The cough explodes from his mouth, along with a mouthful of blood, which he catches in his hand. Kaito grimaces at the sticky texture. The taste of iron coats his tongue uncomfortably, sticking to it unpleasantly like tar. As he rushes over to the sink, he ponders if he should wipe the blood from his hand first or his tongue.
He ends up letting the tap run, keeping his hand under the stream of cold water as he spits into the sink. Wordlessly, he watches as his blood transforms the water from clear to pink.
It takes a while for his nausea to ease. Kaito remains vigil by the sink, his eyes squeezed shut. Even though coughing up blood isn’t something new to him, it’s never a pleasant experience. It doesn’t help when he has to wait hours for privacy either. He'd been struck by a wave of nausea around halfway through the class trial, but because he hadn't wanted to cough up blood in front of a crowd, he had forced the feeling down.
Now, he’s well and truly paying the price.
He supposes he should be grateful that no one decided to follow him. Then again, he’s pretty sure everyone went straight to bed after the class trial; it finished fairly late. Kaito isn’t entirely sure what time it is, but he knows it’s past midnight. The sky had been pale blue before everyone had stepped into the elevator that drops them into the trial room. Then, ten became nine, and one less person was greeted by a starry sky.
Steeling himself, Kaito wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He reluctantly opens his eyes, and the first thing he sees is his reflection in the mirror. To say he looks terrible is an understatement. Fuck. He’s growing more and more grateful by the second that he’s alone; he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this.
Seeing his usually sun-kissed skin so pale that it’s akin to chalk is a distressing sight. And because he’s now so pale, the bags under his eyes have become much more prominent—two little dark smears of evidence that prove without a doubt that he’s exhausted. Kaito wrinkles his nose when he spots a smear of pink near his chin, dangerously close to his goatee. Looks like he missed a spot. He rubs the pink smear vigorously with his sleeve until it’s gone.
Before he turns the tap off, he splashes a handful of water onto his face, relishing in the feeling of cool droplets racing down his face. The tap squeaks as he turns it off. Again, he drags his sleeve across his face, drying it so he doesn’t look like a complete mess.
Kaito dares a final glance at the mirror, hoping that maybe, just maybe, a miracle has occurred during the short time since he last looked at himself. Unfortunately, he isn’t greeted by glowing skin and a flawless face. He looks the same as usual.
Gritting his teeth, Kaito turns away from the mirror, offended by its inability to warp the truth—even just a little. All he wants is for a mirror to show him how he used to look, that’s all. He wants to see tanned skin and purple eyes sparkling with life and a smile revealing white teeth.
Kaito runs his tongue along his teeth, holding back a sigh when he tastes blood. He could really do with a drink right now—nothing alcoholic, of course. He just wants water, something to remove the metallic taste from his mouth.
Because it’s late, and Kaito is fairly confident everyone is probably asleep by now, he doesn’t slap his usual grin on his face as he leaves the restroom. As expected, the hallway is empty. Kaito takes a moment to check just in case, peering down the long, dimly lit hallway. The only source of light is the moonlight pouring in through the barred windows. Whilst it’s beautiful, it doesn’t actually help much—casting only a faint glow.
As he heads to the entrance, his slow and heavy footsteps accompanying him, Kaito notes that there’s less weeds inside the academy now. Before, the academy had been overrun with them. Now, however, the academy no longer looks like it’s been claimed by nature.
Before leaving, Kaito can’t help but spare a glance at the stairs that lead down to the basement. How many days has it been since he formed that group to battle Monokuma and the Exisals? He had invited a lot of people to that group, including people who are dead now—Rantaro, Angie, Tenko…
He shakes his head. He should leave the past in the past, where it belongs. There’s no point in worrying over things he can’t change, and as much as he wants to, Kaito can’t change the past. If he could, well…
Never mind. Even if he somehow managed to jump back in time, his illness isn’t something that is preventable. “It’s unfortunately just a case of bad luck.” He recalls his doctor telling him. “You didn't do anything to cause this. I really am sorry."
Even saving those who have already died is something that will always remain impossible. It frustrates the astronaut to no end that seven people are now dead because of Monokuma and his dumbass killing game. Kaito pulls a face as he once again tries to figure out why he ended up here. He knows one of the reasons why he’s here is because he’s an Ultimate, but after that, he’s not sure.
Bah, he needs to stop worrying and get a move on. He’s not sure how much time there is left before the morning announcement plays, and he wants to get at least a couple hours of sleep before he has to endure the Monokubs’ stupid voices.
The cool, night air caresses his skin the moment he pushes open the entrance door. Kaito lets out a content sigh, inhaling deeply. This is why he prefers being outside. Not only does being outside mean having a constant view of the sky, which Kaito likes to gaze up at, the air not only feels nice, but tastes refreshing too.
Feeling revitalised, Kaito allows the door to close noisily behind him. He thunders down the steps and is about to head inside the dormitory when an unexpected sight steals his attention. Sitting on one of the benches outside the dormitory is Kokichi. Kaito clicks his tongue. Ugh, what’s he doing out here?
Thankfully, despite all the noise Kaito has made, Kokichi hasn’t noticed him yet, so maybe if Kaito stays quiet, he can sneak inside before Kokichi notices him. The idea is tempting, and Kaito almost decides to carry it out, but something stops him.
Kokichi is slouched forward, holding his head. Kaito would’ve assumed that Kokichi’s merely deep in thought—if it wasn’t for the smear of pink on Kokichi’s hand. Kaito is no stranger to pink smears, so it doesn’t take him long to identify what exactly is on Kokichi’s hand.
Straightening his back, Kaito marches over to Kokichi, his expression stern. He snatches Kokichi’s wrist, causing the leader to jolt and snap his head up so he can stare incredulously at Kaito.
Kokichi’s hand isn’t the only thing that’s bloody; there’s blood trickling down Kokichi’s face.
“What the hell?” Kaito splutters just as Kokichi opens his mouth. The astronaut narrows his eyes, searching for something that will explain the blood. Kaito reaches forward and brushes away a few strands of Kokichi’s hair, causing Kokichi to squawk. He quickly finds a nasty scratch just below Kokichi’s hairline.
“Do you mind?” Kokichi huffs, trying and failing to wrestle his wrist free.
“What happened?” Kaito demands, lowering his voice when Kokichi winces.
“What does it look like, genius?” Kokichi pulls his wrist once more, this time successfully freeing it. He cradles it to his chest almost protectively with an exaggerated pout. “What are you doing out here anyway, spaceman? We’ve just survived a class trial. Don’t tell me you’re that desperate to participate in another one so quickly?”
Kaito flushes an angry red. “Of course not! Why the fuck would you even ask that?”
“It’s a valid question,” Kokichi responds with a saccharine smile. “It’s a little suspicious that you’re wandering around alone at night. There’s a reason why Angie thought it was a good idea for everyone to stay in their rooms during the night-time.”
“Yeah, well, you’re outside too,” Kaito retorts. “And you’re covered in blood.”
“I am,” Kokichi agrees. His smile, Kaito notices, turns a touch more tighter. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a body I need to clean up—”
“Quit screwing around,” Kaito huffs. “You shouldn’t joke about something so morbid.”
“Ah, so you don’t think I’ve killed someone?”
Kaito rolls his eyes. “If you have, then you’re either really brave or really stupid to sit out in a public space where anyone can see you covered in blood.”
“Hmm, touché.” Kokichi finally drops his wrist. He swipes his hair back into place, wincing when a few strands brush against his cut. “Anyway, if you’re done interrogating me—”
“You’re hurt,” Kaito states, leaving no room for arguing. It’s an undeniable fact, after all. Kokichi might be a decent liar, but even he can’t lie about his cut—especially now that Kaito has seen it. “What happened?”
“Oh, you know, I got a little hurt when my victim tried to fight back,” Kokichi unhelpfully responds. “Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”
Kaito scowls, his patience wearing thin. “Ouma.”
“Yes, that is my name.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Kaito grumbles under his breath.
He’s tempted to walk away, but he’s done far too many first aid courses for him to do that. Head wounds aren’t something to be taken lightly—even if it’s Kokichi’s head that is hurt. With a heavy sigh, Kaito once again grabs Kokichi’s wrist and pulls him to his feet.
Again, Kokichi squawks, and actually wobbles a little. Kaito steadies him by placing a hand on his shoulder. Kaito contemplates apologising, but decides against it. Instead, Kaito pulls the leader inside the dormitory before dragging him up to his bedroom.
“Eh? I didn’t expect to be kidnapped today,” Kokichi comments as Kaito searches for his bedroom key. A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “How exciting! I suppose if it’s you who is kidnapping me, then I’ll play along—”
“Do you know how to keep quiet?” Kaito hisses. To his relief, he finally finds his key. He rams it into the keyhole with a little more force than necessary.
“I do,” Kokichi answers. “But! Do I like to stay quiet? Now that is a different answer.”
Kaito lets out a suffering sigh. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“Uh, you’re the one who decided to kidnap me, remember?” Kokichi reminds him as Kaito herds him inside his bedroom. “I’m only here because you dragged me here.”
Kokichi has a point. However, Kaito decides to ignore this fact, and instead responds, “I’m not kidnapping you. I’m helping you because you’re hurt.”
“Ah, I see, I see! You should’ve made that clearer from the start, spaceman! My poor, maiden-heart almost stopped out of fright!”
Kaito shoots him a withering glare. In response, Kokichi pokes his tongue out.
It takes a great deal of willpower not to kick Kokichi straight back out of his room. To distract himself, Kaito heads into his bathroom, knowing that there’s a first aid kit under the sink. When he first arrived here and saw that Monokuma hadn’t bothered to supply him with one, Kaito went out of his way to find his own first aid kit, spending hours searching high and low inside the warehouse. Eventually, he found one, and has kept it inside his bathroom ever since.
Along with a couple other things he got his hands on inside the warehouse.
Kaito finds Kokichi sitting at the end of his bed when he emerges from the bathroom. Like he had been earlier, Kokichi is once again holding his head, his head angled towards the ground. Kaito can’t help but frown, concerned.
Kokichi doesn’t react when Kaito heads over to him. However, the moment the astronaut is standing in front of him, Kokichi whips his head up, an artificial smile on his lips.
“You’re back! And here I thought you had abandoned me,” Kokichi says as Kaito opens up the first aid kit.
“Surely you saw me go into the bathroom,” Kaito responds. He finds some ointment and a packet of gauze pads, which he rips open. He reaches for one, before pausing. Ah, if his old teacher was here, he’d be shaking his head. Kaito rushes back to the bathroom and washes his hands thoroughly.
When he returns, Kokichi flashes him an amused smile. “How thoughtful of you to wash away all your spaceman germs before touching me. I’m flattered.”
“It’s called being hygienic,” Kaito says. He gently tilts Kokichi’s head back and sweeps away Kokichi’s hair, revealing the same, painful looking scratch Kaito saw earlier. Upon closer inspection, it looks like Kokichi will only just get away with not needing stitches—strong emphasis on only just. If they weren’t trapped, Kaito probably would’ve insisted that Kokichi go to hospital. Maybe Kaito would’ve even marched Kokichi to hospital himself.
However, Kaito glumly reminds himself that there’s no hospital nearby, and that he’s probably currently the best person to tend to Kokichi’s wound. If Kirumi were still alive, Kaito might’ve taken Kokichi to her, but his pride probably would’ve insisted that he could take care of Kokichi himself.
Whilst studying to be an astronaut, he had to take several first aid courses. After all, there are no hospitals in space; the only people you can rely on are your crew and yourself. And, of course, since he’s going to captain a crew one day, he wants to be someone everyone can rely on.
Before ending up here, Kaito had passed every first aid course he went on. He’s well aware that there’s still more he needs to learn, but he’s confident he at least knows the basics—and maybe some more.
“Well, doctor? Give it to me straight, I can take it. It’s bad news, isn’t it?” Kokichi wipes away an imaginary tear.
“As long as you don’t do anything stupid any time soon, you should be fine,” Kaito tells him. “So actually, I guess you are right—it is bad news.”
Kokichi lets out an offended gasp. “Are you implying I’m going to do something stupid soon?”
“You’re the one who said it, not me.”
Kokichi puffs his cheeks out childishly. “Aren’t you supposed to be making me feel better?”
“I’m only concerned about making sure that your cut doesn't get infected, actually.” Kaito grabs the pack of wipes from the first aid kit and pulls one free. He wipes Kokichi’s cut carefully, trying not to press too hard. As much as Kokichi tries, he fails to suppress his wince, which Kaito notices. “Does it hurt?”
“Nope,” Kokichi answers, popping the ‘p’ loudly.
Kaito sighs. “You’re only going to cause yourself more pain by lying, you know?”
“I think you’re being a tad bit dramatic.”
“That’s because head injuries are serious,” Kaito tells him, looking Kokichi dead in the eye. They stare wordlessly at each other, both daring the other to look away first. Eventually, Kokichi clicks his tongue and turns away first, his expression surprisingly irritated.
“I made it through the class trial fine,” Kokichi grumbles whilst Kaito reaches for a gauze pad.
Kaito pauses, raising an eyebrow. “Huh? What do you mean?” He stares hard at Kokichi’s scratch, his brow furrowed. “You’re telling me you didn’t bother patching yourself up before the class trial?”
Kokichi shrugs, his expression disinterested as he begins to examine his nails. “I didn’t have enough time. Not all of us had the luxury of taking a back seat, you know?”
Kaito thinks back to the investigation. Kokichi was definitely fine before he had left, so he must’ve received his injury after Kaito left halfway through the investigation. Kaito can’t help but find this revelation concerning. He also can’t believe Kokichi endured an entire class trial with such a nasty injury.
“You sure you hurt yourself before the class trial?" Kaito asks him. “Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought…”
Kokichi scoffs, smirking at Kaito’s bewildered expression. “Did you forget that my injury was brought up during the class trial? Who was it again who brought it up…?” Kokichi taps his chin as he thinks, even though he clearly already knows the answer. “Ah, that’s right! It was your beloved sidekick, wasn’t it?”
“...Ah, that’s right,” Kaito murmurs. The only reason they knew the floorboards had been cut was because of Kokichi’s injury. “You were acting like your usual self during the trial, so I had assumed you'd merely bumped your head. I didn't think you had hurt yourself this badly.”
“Sure is a good thing I have long hair then, huh?” Kokichi curls a strand around his finger. “If I hadn’t, my yucky scratch would’ve been on display for everyone to see—and that would’ve been super embarrassing!”
For some reason, Kaito finds himself feeling uncomfortable. Something doesn’t feel right, and he can’t figure out what. It’s like he’s trying to solve a puzzle in the dark; he knows all the pieces are there, he just can’t slot them together. “But if you were hurt before the class trial, then…”
“Hmm? What was that?” Kokichi cups his ear. “You’re mumbling.”
Kaito rolls his eyes. Now that Kokichi’s scratch has been cleaned, he can now place down a gauze pad. Before he does, he grabs the roll of bandages from the kit. “Did you hit your head just before Monokuma ended the investigation?”
There’s a twinkle in Kokichi’s eye as he answers, “Nope. I say I hit my head maybe, hmm, ten minutes before the end? Possibly five. Maybe you should ask your sidekicks for a more accurate answer.”
“My sidekicks? What do they have to do with your injury?”
“Nothing, actually,” Kokichi says. He lets out a hiss when Kaito presses the gauze down, hardening his gaze. “Are you trying to make me bleed again?”
“I was trying to be gentle,” Kaito tells him, because even though he’s not Kokichi’s biggest fan, he doesn’t actually want to hurt him. “Seriously, why bring up my sidekicks when they don’t have anything to do with your injury?”
“Well…” Kokichi chews his lip as he watches Kaito begin to unravel the bandages. "That's because I saw them before the end of the investigation. I talked with them too, actually. For a little while, then I left.”
The penny finally drops. Kaito raises an eyebrow as he begins to wrap Kokichi’s head. “C’mon man, don’t lie. My sidekicks wouldn’t leave someone with a head injury alone. They’re smarter than that.”
The silence that follows is stifling, threatening to swallow Kaito whole. Eventually, Kokichi hums, closing his eyes as Kaito continues to tend to him. “If that’s what you want to believe, then go ahead. Just don’t come crying to me when they don’t help you in your hour of need.”
Kaito doesn’t respond. Instead, he focuses on making sure Kokichi’s hair doesn’t end up tangled in the bandage. As Kaito frees a few strands, he finds himself at a loss. Surely Shuichi and Maki had tried to help, right? Kokichi did say that he had hurt himself near the end of the investigation. If Shuichi and Maki hadn’t offered to help, it must be because they simply didn’t have the time.
Right?
Or perhaps there’s another factor that Kaito doesn’t know yet. “Did they know you were seriously hurt?”
“Who knows?” Kokichi answers. “I’m pretty sure I managed to convince them I was dead for a moment, though.” Kokichi chuckles to himself, a proud glint in his eyes. “I was in the hallway when I heard them coming. I thought since I was already on the floor, maybe I could have some fun with them. I really wanted to see their reactions if they thought I had also died, so I lowered my head and waited.”
“You made them think you were dead?” Kaito clicks his tongue, unimpressed. “That wasn’t cool of you, man.”
“I think their lack of concern wasn’t cool,” Kokichi grumbles, crossing his arms. His voice is disappointed as he says, “They seemed more upset that I was actually still alive. How rude of them.”
“You were playing dead during a murder investigation. Chabashira’s body probably wasn’t even cold yet when you decided to play such a childish prank,” Kaito points out.
It takes a surprisingly long time for Kokichi to respond. Eventually, he says, “At the end of the day, it’s thanks to my injury that we survived the class trial, right? If it wasn’t for the fact I hurt myself, we wouldn’t have known all the rooms had been prepared beforehand. Shinguji would’ve gotten away with Angie’s murder, and we all would’ve died.”
“Still,” Kaito sighs. “You could’ve just told them about the floorboards instead of throwing yourself on the floor and pretending to be dead.”
It takes Kaito a moment to realise that there’s something wrong with what he’s just said. Even Kokichi remains quiet, not pointing out Kaito’s mistake—it’s almost as if he wants Kaito to connect the dots himself.
“I thought since I was already on the floor, maybe I could have some fun with them.”
“Just how hard did you hit your head?” Kaito mumbles to himself. He takes a step back, inspecting his handiwork. Luckily, there’s no blood seeping through the gauze pad, suggesting that Kokichi’s scratch is already starting to heal. Still, it’s for the best if Kokichi keeps his head wrapped for a little while.
“Huh, are you done?” Kokichi gingerly pats around his head, pouting when Kaito swats his hand away. “Hey—”
“Don’t want you ruining my hard work,” Kaito huffs. “I’m not rewrapping you until your bandages need changing, so you better not do anything stupid until then.”
“Oh? I’m still in your care, then? How unexpected.”
Kaito grimaces, scratching behind his head. “Something tells me you’re the sort of person who goes out of their way to purposely not find the time to look after themselves.”
“Hmm? Don’t you think you’re being rather presumptuous?”
Kaito stares at Kokichi dryly. “The fact you didn’t bother bandaging yourself up before the trial is a pretty big giveaway, for starters.”
“Don’t forget your sidekicks also didn’t help me,” Kokichi reminds him in a sing-song voice. His lips curl, grinning like a Cheshire cat as Kaito sighs loudly.
“What point are you trying to make, huh?” Kaito isn’t sure if he’s missing something, or if Kokichi is just trying to cause trouble. “Look, if you’re that upset that my sidekicks didn’t look after you, then just say so. I’ll admit I’m surprised they didn’t help, but they must’ve had a good reason not to.”
“Or maybe you’re just making excuses for them,” Kokichi says, lowering his voice. “I’m not that surprised that Harukawa wasn’t inclined to help—but Saihara? Even I’ll admit that stung a little.”
Kaito’s lips press into a straight, serious line. He pictures Kokichi standing in the hallway on the fourth floor, blood trickling down his face. Shuichi and Maki then appear. He tries to recreate what their reactions would’ve been. Shuichi probably would’ve been surprised when he had seen the blood on Kokichi’s face, his eyes wide, mouth agape. Without his hat to hide behind, Shuichi’s reaction would’ve been on full display. Maki’s expression probably wouldn't have changed much—if at all. Kaito pictures her usual scowl, which probably deepened just a smidge when her eyes landed on Kokichi.
He then tries to picture them helping Kokichi. However, his imagination refuses to cooperate. Every scenario Kaito tries to explore feels wrong. The more Kaito tries, the more nauseous he feels. He can’t picture either of his sidekicks rushing to Kokichi’s aid. So, he changes tactics. He replaces Kokichi with someone else—and suddenly it becomes much easier to imagine Shuichi and Maki expressing concern.
Kaito stares silently at Kokichi, his stomach curdling.
“What’s with that expression?” Kokichi suddenly asks. He waves a hand dismissively, sighing before he says, “I wasn’t actually being serious, you know? I didn’t need Saihara’s help anyway.” Kokichi then lowers his voice, pouting as he grumbles, “Even though he was much more reactive when I sliced my finger on a knife whilst we were hanging out together…”
Kaito lowers his gaze to Kokichi’s hand. Now that he’s looking, he can see a pale plaster tucked around one of Kokichi’s fingers. If Kaito had to guess, he’d say the plaster is a couple days old—overdue to be removed
“I’ll have a word with my sidekicks in the morning," Kaito suddenly tells him. “I still think there must be a reason why they didn’t help, but the fact is they didn’t.” Kaito checks Kokichi’s bandages one final time, making sure they’re secure. “You didn’t do yourself any favours by playing dead, but even that isn’t an excuse to ignore you. That scratch on your head is pretty deep, you know? Definitely something that shouldn’t have been ignored—by you or my sidekicks.”
For the first time tonight, Kokichi doesn’t have a sarcastic comment sitting ready on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he blinks at Kaito, his expression blank.
“Don’t think I’m placing full blame on my sidekicks for your wound being left untreated for so long, though,” Kaito adds. “You need to speak up if you’re hurt. At the very least you must’ve washed your face before the trial. You can’t fully blame my sidekicks if you went out of your way to hide your cut. I mean, if I hadn’t spotted that you were seriously hurt tonight, would you have said something in the morning? Or would you have continued to hide your injury?”
“Sheesh, okay, I get it,” Kokichi huffs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You’ve made your point. Your sidekicks can do no wrong, I see that now—”
“My sidekicks messed up, I’m not denying that,” Kaito says, causing Kokichi to peer up at him curiously. “And I said I’ll talk to them in the morning, just like I’m talking to you now. They messed up, but you did too.”
Kaito wishes there was a clock in his room so he can check the time. There’s no doubt that it’s extremely late now. He sighs to himself, mourning his loss of sleep.
“But what’s done is done,” Kaito finishes. “And I’m confident now that I’ve sorted out your cut, you’re going to be fine. Well, you’re probably gonna have a headache for a couple days, but you can take some painkillers if the pain gets too much.”
“You really know your stuff, huh?” Kokichi, to Kaito’s astonishment, sounds surprisingly sincere. The leader must decide that Kaito has done an adequate job, since he doesn’t try to reach for his bandages again.
Kokichi stands up, perhaps a little too quickly; he stumbles, reaching out for something to stabilise himself on. The only thing—or more accurately, person—in his reaching distance is Kaito, who tuts disapprovingly as he grabs Kokichi’s shoulders and pushes him back down on the bed.
“And because I really know my stuff, I know that you shouldn’t be on your feet unless you really need to be,” Kaito tells him. “So you better get comfortable, because you’re sleeping here tonight.”
Kokichi blinks at him, failing to veil his surprise. “Oh? I thought you were being too nice. Turns out you had an ulterior motive all along, didn’t you?”
Kaito doesn’t entertain Kokichi with a response. Instead, he scoffs, rolling his eyes as he plucks one of the pillows from his bed and tucking it under his arm. He can feel Kokichi’s eyes watching him as he places the pillow down on the couch before getting comfortable.
The couch isn’t as comfortable as his bed, but Kaito figures a night on it won’t hurt—just one, though. His body only just fits on the couch, his feet dangling over the edge. Someone like Kokichi would probably fit comfortably on the couch, but Kaito has already claimed it. If he tells Kokichi to swap now, he’d look like an asshole.
Kaito closes his eyes and waits to hear the sounds of Kokichi getting comfortable. However, even after a minute passes, Kaito doesn’t hear a thing—only the sound of his breathing. He pokes his head up, peering at Kokichi curiously. The leader is still sitting at the end of the bed, staring at the floor, his brow furrowed like he’s deep in thought.
“Ouma?” Kaito asks, keeping his voice purposely quiet. Kokichi jumps nevertheless. “I never gave you any painkillers, so if you really need some—”
“You know, for someone so headstrong, it’s surprising how much of a doormat you are.”
Kokichi’s words catch him so off guard, Kaito forgets to be offended at first. He stares at Kokichi in disbelief, his mouth agape. What the hell? Did he hear that right? Kaito finally snaps out of his stupor and glares hard at the leader. “The hell are you talking about?”
“Are you always going to take responsibility for your sidekick's actions, even if one of them ends up doing something even you can’t fix?” Kokichi asks him. “Don’t forget that we’re players of a killing game, Momota. You, me, your sidekicks—everyone here.”
“I-I haven’t forgotten that,” Kaito insists. Shit, maybe Kokichi did hit his head harder than Kaito thought; he’s acting stranger than usual right now. “Seriously, get some rest. I think your injury is making you say weird things.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Kokichi murmurs. “How interesting.”
“Ouma—go to sleep.”
“I will, I will,” Kokichi says, placatingly. Kaito keeps an eye on Kokichi until the leader finally climbs under the covers. Once Kaito sees that Kokichi is finally in bed, he lies back down on the couch. Before Kaito can fall asleep, however, he hears Kokichi ask so quietly, that Kaito swears he’s hearing things, “So, how long have you been sick for?”
Kaito freezes, feeling like his chest has just been pierced by ice. “...What?”
“Your bathroom is full of medicine,” Kokichi tells him. “I couldn’t count how many bottles I saw when you walked me past. I saw enough, though.”
Kaito swears under his breath, no longer tired. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest like it’s trying to escape. Kaito swallows heavily, staring up at the ceiling. The ceiling offers no distraction. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“...I see,” Kokichi murmurs, unable to hide the exhaustion in his voice. “You’re certainly not boring, Momota. You know that?”
Silence fills the room. Kaito feels sick as he continues to stare at the ceiling, his heart racing. For a brief moment, he wonders if Kokichi is also awake. If he is, is he also staring up at the ceiling? Or perhaps he’s on his side, staring aimlessly at the wall.
Kaito curses himself for not thinking ahead before dragging Kokichi into his room. Because Kaito rarely has visitors—and when he does, he doesn’t actually let them into his room, instead opting to talk to them by the door—he usually keeps his bathroom door open for convenience. He didn’t even think about the bottles of medicine lined up in full view whilst he walked Kokichi past his bathroom earlier.
Shit, what a mess.
Kaito stretches, moving his hands behind his head so that they’re cradling it. He wishes he was outside right now, admiring the stars instead of his ceiling. All his worries seem to wash away when the stars keep him company. But because he’s not outside, his worries remain present, looming over him like a dark shadow.
Tch, what is he doing? If he’s got time to overthink, he’s got time to sleep. Kaito forces his eyes shut, ignoring both his racing thoughts and heart.
Maybe in the morning, he can convince Kokichi that he’s hoarding so much medicine in case of an emergency. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.
Feeling slightly better, Kaito falls into a restless sleep.