Assassins, Detectives, and the Mafia

Luminary Of The Stars and A World He Once Knew

"What's... going on?"

Kaito finds himself surrounded by three blobs (possibly people, his eyesight is still shot) all of whom talk in low whispers.

"Nishi-ha," one of the figures laughs, seeming almost to change his voice midway through. It's flat and dull, yet strangely familiar.

"I think he's awake- hey! Momota-kun! Can you hear me?" a girl's voice asks.

The fuzziness seems to have dissipated, and he can, in fact, tell that they are people. One girl and two boys.

"Wha- Rantaro!" the first figure pouts. "It is not my fault!"

Kokichi... Rantaro... Kaede?

The world snaps into focus as he takes in the room's occupants.

It is them, though not quite the same. All three wear bandages around their heads, and all three somehow look... lighter?

"Momota-kun!" Kaede smiles. "You're finally awake!"

Rantaro nods slowly, a certain level of wariness in his gaze.

"Pfft, you looked ridiculous," Kokichi snickers. "Like an idiot."

Rantaro gives him a scathing glare, and his expression falls.

"Don't be like that, Amami!" Kokichi frowns. "That's no fun!"

"Where is Maki-Roll? And Shuichi?" Kaito demands, forcing himself to a seated position. "What happened?"

"Things will come back to you soon," Kaede smiles, sympathy in her gaze. "They keep you hopped-up on drugs until you're deemed mentally fit."

"I'm fine!" Kaito insists, swinging his legs out of the hospital bed.

He doesn't expect how weak they've grown, and he falls to his knees on the floor, shame prickling in his chest.

"Hey, Kaito."

Kokichi slings his arm over Kaito's shoulder, hoisting him upright so he's sitting on the bed.

"Please, don't be sad," Rantaro's eyes seem to say, worry evident in their pea-green depths.

"It's okay," Kaede assures him. "The weakness will pass."

"What happened?" Kaito frowns, allowing the others to help him back into the bed.

"...the Neo World Program..." Kokichi trails off, staring out the window.

"What?" Kaito asks.

"...let me start from the beginning..."

Maki stares at the horrific scene in front of her, tears streaming down her face.

Shuichi stands above a mutilated corpse, eyes gleaming with insanity.

Below him, Kaito's body spills bright pink blood on the floor, a single tear trailing down his cheek. His face is permanently frozen in an expression of shock and horror, and as Maki watches, Shuichi plunges the kitchen knife into his corpse again.

"Shuichi, stop!"

Maki strides forwards, slapping him in the cheek. Hard.

The daze in his eyes seems to fade, and Shuichi shakes his head, rubbing at his temple. "What... what happened? The last thing I remember, I was at home, and..."

He raises his hands in front of his face, eyes widening in horror at the caked-on blood. "What... who...?"

His eyes catch Kaito's, and his mouth opens in a scream, tears spilling out of his eyes as he falls to his knees.

"No, no, no, Kaito, how..."

The raw anguish in his voice is tear-jerking, the raw pain at seeing someone he cares about dead on the floor.

Maki stares in horror, wiping off a spot of blood (Kaito's blood) that landed on her cheek.

(How she knows to shut out pain: distance. Kill your emotion)

"Is Kaito really... how?"

Shuichi plants his hands on the ground, staring at Kaito in horror.

"How could... how could I do this...? Did I... did I do this? Why?"

Kurumi pushes open the door, following behind Maki obediently. She pauses, just an instant, before pushing past Maki.

The assassin is about to protest before Kurumi bends down, closing Kaito's eyes (the eyes that seemed to hold the universe in their depths) and wiping the blood off his cheek.

"Shuichi, did you do this?" Kurumi whispers.

Shuichi doesn't answer, staring at his blood-soaked hands in horror and fear.

"Shuichi!" Maki demands, planting a hand on his shoulder. "How could... how could you! Kaito was our friend! Your friend!"

Shuichi shakes in her grasp, eyes fixed blankly on a point many miles away.

"I d-don't... I don't know..." he finally chokes out, a tinge of panic in his voice. "I d-don't... why...?"

All he can think of is Kaito Kaito Kaito and he can't be dead, isn't dead no no no.

"Shuichi! Snap out of it!"

He's harshly forced back into sobriety as Maki drives a hand into his gut (harder than necessary, but that's not surprising)

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" she sobs, salty liquid spilling down her cheeks and onto the floor. "Why Kaito? Why?"

"I don't... why?" Shuichi mutters. "Kaito..."

Kurumi gently pries them apart (so calm, even now) and practically shepherds Shuichi back to the motorcycle with soft touches and softer words.

Then it's just Maki and the body that was Kaito.

She stares at him, forcing her brain to commit the utter horror that is Kaito Momota to photographic memory. How the light tear tracks on his cheeks catch the light just so, making it appear as though he's sleeping.

(They're never just sleeping)

And oh, she is just tired. Tired of the jinx surrounding her, tired tired tired of all the death and darkness and ruin.

The mental fortitude in her mind crumbles along with Shuichi's tears, crumbling down into some semblance of a barrier, but really so paper-thin, so fake-

She gingerly presses the tip of her finger to the point of a knife (that knife, the knife that has claimed so many lives before hers) marveling at the red bead of blood welling up.

Even after all this, she still bleeds.

Tracing her arm, the vein, red blood seeping onto pale skin, she knows after a certain point that she will bleed out.

She doesn't care.

She has to know she bleeds. She has to know that she's alive, that she's real, that she's here.

She is still here.

She is still here.

She is still... here.

She is still...

She is...

She...

...

For the second time that day, someone wakes up in a hospital room, their last memory of death.

Except, unlike Kaito, Maki can't understand how she's supposed to live with herself.