Just another Dance

Blurry dim world

The fire as well as the terrified noises of the fleeing audience roared loudly in his ears but his screams rang louder, Kaito continued to strain and struggle against whatever or whoever was holding him back to try and get to the flames that had appeared from one moment to another and swallowed up his whole life. He had to pull his life, his parents, back out of their grasp and save them or follow them into said flames if he couldn't. His chest felt like it was ripped open and bleeding, someone was cutting up his insides with a hot knife and tearing out his heart, leaving his soul a tattered burning mess. His hot tears scalded his face more than the heat of the fire ever could. The room was quickly filling with the grey veil of smoke. Maybe if he screamed every bit of air and strength that he had left in him out of his body and into the flames his heart would stop beating by itself and he'd be able to escape this fiery nightmare that his life had turned into in a matter of seconds. A groaning sound, the chandelier to his left fell from the ceiling and landed on the seats below, vacated by the people who screamed at its fall as they tried to shove each other out of the hall. The ropes that held it in place must've been burned to ashes. Kaito didn't really hear the loud shattering of the glass appendages as the heavy chandelier somewhat squashed the plush seats and met the hard marble floor, he continued struggling and raging in his desperate fit, only interrupted by the coughs that tore out of his lungs as he breathed in more and more smoke. A white rectangle came into his field of vision that was already pretty blurry because of the smoke. A slender hand of unsuspected strength pressed it onto the lower half of his face while he continued to struggle, muffling his crying screaming and coughing. It took only a couple more seconds before blackness started to creep up at the edges of Kaito's vision. Then it fully engulfed it and he felt every last bit of strength drain from his body as he blacked out. Maybe the end of his torment had finally come.

Sharon caught the boy's limp form as he fell unconscious, slung him over her shoulder so that his head wouldn't hit the gun that she'd hidden inside her jacket again and hurried out of the hall with the last panicked audience members that were just pushing themselves outside. Miraculously, none of the people who'd been trampled to the ground lost consciousness and were left behind or sustained horrible injuries and everyone made it out of the burning theatre mostly unscathed. Everyone but Chikage and Toichi Kuroba. Almost as if their infamous luck had left the dying couple and protected its audience instead.

Kaito blinked open his eyes but found that he couldn't see much, his vision was blurry and barely cleared through blinking. He was in a small dimly lit room, the only source of light being a weakly shining light bulb, hanging from a bare cable high up beneath the ceiling. There were no windows. The concrete walls were probably white once upon a time, the concrete floor presumably painted green, but dirt had disfigured the colours. The only door was painted white, now dirty grey, the silver steel shone through where the paint had chipped off. It had no handle on the side he could see. In the corner stood a black bucket, by the door a see-through plastic bottle filled with clear liquid. No food. The air was heavy, stale, and stuffy. His tux jacket and his bowtie were gone, he was left in a crumpled formerly white shirt, dirty black pants and socks and once shiny black shoes. All of his clothes and his skin were sooty, his shirt and pants had charred spots, he smelled of smoke and fire. His whole body, but especially his head felt heavy like lead. His limbs were nearly completely numb. The only advantage of that was that it also numbed any feeling of hunger. He could barely move. He couldn't think straight, everything was a cloudy haze. The horrible memories of his parents' terrible death were helplessly scratching at the back of his mind, unable to break through and cause another fit, but making a dull ache linger in his chest. He wanted to die. He wanted it to end. End his suffering and the painful memories. Kaito's sluggish thoughts told him that he had to be in some kind of creepy cellar underground, but his body didn't react, didn't release adrenalin, didn't allow panic. The vaguely, as much as his body allowed his mind to be, frightened eight-year-old screamed inside his head but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a desperate whimper. For a while he just sat halfway propped up against the wall, neither awake nor asleep. He hadn't given up. Not yet. But it was so hard not to. Then Kaito's bladder send him an unmistakeable message. He needed to pee. He tried to move, but nothing happened. Only after multiple attempts was he able to drag himself over to the bucket. On his stomach. Embarrassment didn't even make its way through his foggy mind to the front of it, he just somehow got onto his knees, did what he had to do, though zipping his pants was a challenge, and robbed over to the bottle to erase the terrible scratching sensation in his dry and tormented throat. As soon as he'd emptied the bottle it fell from his slackening grip and rolled away as his arm and head sunk to the ground and he lost consciousness.