Summary: In which Kaito learns the reason behind May 3rd
With fifty-two days until the deadline on their escape, Kaito finds himself buried under questions that he has no answers to. It's almost as if he's slowly drowning in uncertainty, each mystery boiling his blood, his skin itching from the rawness of it all.
It is like he's readying himself for a test but hasn't been told what he needs to know in advance. Instead of feeling certain that everything is going to work out eventually, he is left reeling, confusion blurring his thoughts, twisting them until they are only recognisable in the form of anxiety.
Usually energetic, he spends days feeling listless, lacking his usual vigor, maskless and uncertain what he's doing. It's the result of being locked up all the time, his freedom gone as if he is a domesticated animal, a bird trapped in a cage that is rusting.
"How much longer," he asks one day, "until we can leave?"
They are both in the prison yard, feeling the sun beat against their neck, and Kaito is sprawled against the dirt, eyes closed as Kudo sits beside him. People give them a wide berth, decide to leave them both alone, and Kaito know's by now not to expect anyone to come talk to them.
"I told you," Kudo sighs, "by May 3rd at the latest, it's not going to be after then."
Kaito cracks open an eye, squints against the glare of the sun. "What's so special about the third of may?"
Kudo smiles. It's strained, and goddammit, Kaito just wants him to stop with all of the masks. If this is what Aoko meant in the past when she'd said it was difficult to read him, then he's ready to apologise tenfold. "It's always good to work with a goal in mind."
"Would it kill you to be honest with me?" Kaito says. He doesn't quite expect his voice to come out so agitated, had been under the belief that he's been suppressing his feelings enough to keep the pretense of calmness - but apparently not.
Kudo flinches away, turns. He says, "We just need to leave before then, okay?"
"I don't trust you Kudo." Kaito breathes, and it's like the words unravel off of his tongue before his brain can fully process them. "I can't, because you don't tell me anything."
The is a sharp inhale from beside him, and Kaito is surprised at how he's remaining in one place despite the cold look Kudo sends him.
"You don't exactly tell me things either KID," Kudo growls, animosity lacing his tone. "Like… What exactly is this Pandora that you're so obsessed with? And what's going on with you, you were fine and now suddenly you seem like someone's taken the life from you?"
Kaito sits up, and now he's glaring too. "How do you know about Pandora?"
"All of that tapping you do, it's always the same sequence, repeated over and over again, spelling out that stupid word!" Kudo snaps. "I don't expect you to tell me about that, so why do you expect me not to do the same?"
"Because you are not the one who's got to worry about whether us escaping will lead to more people dying!" Kaito cries. He's glad that people keep their distance from them, because his pitch is rising, louder and louder, filled with more emotion than he can realistically handle.
It is like a crescendo of noise, and he cannot process his emotions because he does not have an off button.
"You think I want to leave so I can kill more people?" Kudo asks, and he is quieter now. His glare has faded away, his skin paling until he is colourless, washed out in the same way a corpse is. The hurt in his voice is gut-wrenching to hear, but Kaito is at his limit of feeling guilty.
"Well do you?" Kaito asks, and he feels faintly like his heart might give out with how heavily it is pounding in his chest. "Because you're not exactly forthcoming with any useful information. Forgive me for being skeptical."
Kudo stands, glances at Kaito for a single before tearing his gaze away. It's almost as if he can't bear to look at him - Is it because he can't keep up the appearance of pretending to be upset? Or is it because he's trying to avoid falling into despair?
"They were all criminals." The ex-detective says, "I'm sentenced with killing six criminals, so why would I try to escape when everyone here fits my MO?"
Kudo doesn't turn back as he storms off, and Kaito is left to stare after him. As soon as he steps back inside C-block, Kaito draws himself up, jumping on the balls of his feet.
Is it that difficult to just say 'don't worry, I won't kill anyone?'
The thief doesn't know. All he can do is imply Kudo's meanings, intended double-meanings thrown into every word. News articles had said that he'd valued the truth over everything else, and well - maybe part of making sure everything he says is true is making sure nothing is certain.
"Jeez," Kaito rubs at the back of his neck, staring at the open doors, "he's so annoying."
Except, he's more worried than annoyed.
"This place is driving me insane," Kaito sighs, turning in the direction of the laundry room. It's the subtle things that make him feel out of touch with reality. The way the wind whispers against his neck, taunting him with it's freedom, his fellow prisoners and their eyes follow him.
Mostly it's the hollowness, the boredom that wraps around him in an embrace, and the feeling that it will never let go.
Kudo doesn't show up for laundry duty, which means that the guards stack Kaito with double the work. He groans, complains over the fact he's got twice as much to do because Kudo's being a jerk, but ends up biting his tongue the moment one of the guards gives him the option of helping out or spending a day in solitary.
(Kaito would like to point out that this is unfounded seeing as all he was doing was cursing Kudo, it's not quite worthy of solitary. But hey, what does he know?)
As he's folding blankets, he finds that his mind slips into a steady rhythm, his hands working without needing any direct instruction. It gives him time to think.
Aoko's request of the difference between Kaito and KID isn't something he necessarily wants to think on, but it's the first place his mind wanders. He doesn't know exactly what Aoko means by them being two different things, but is that simply because he's spent too long immersing himself in both?
"What is so different about the two?" He mutters, racking his brain. Both are magicians, both have never thought much for the rules. Both like to prank others, although KID's were always on a greater scale and they were designed to fool hundreds.
Kaito's tricks were always just that… tricks. But KID creates magic, creates illusions because he is an illusion himself.
Is that the difference Aoko was talking about? That one is real and the other is a concept?
No. That's not it. After all, people are just concepts melded together into a living personality - there's a distinct contrast between the two.
He decides to think of something else instead. Rather than try to strain his mind, he decides to think on the significance of May 3rd.
Kenpo Kinenbi takes place on the third, is in the middle of golden week. A national holiday brought in after the war, constitution day celebrates new principles brought in after the end of the war… well, Kaito doesn't think that there's anything special about it.
Only… There's something about the day that would make their hiding a lot more easier. It would be easier to disappear when most of the country is travelling over the holidays, and it's typically busiest on May 3rd. It's a possibility, but something in the back of Kaito's head tells him it's not the only reason.
There's too much urgency for that to be the only reason. There has to be a reason why Kudo's gotten so emotional over the date, despite usually keeping a collected voice.
"I'll get it out of him eventually." Kaito promises himself, grabbing a blanket, "and tomorrow, he's going to do my share of the laundry."
Kudo is not in their cell when he goes back after lunch, but Kaito's not worried. He's either in solitary - again because apparently he spends a lot of time there - or he's actually decided to go down to their kitchen duty.
Wherever he is, Kaito doesn't care. Let Kudo wash double the dishes, it was his idea for them to help out, after all.
He sits back on his bunk, skims through one of Kudo's books and finds that it's extremely tiring sitting by himself. Maybe if he had playing cards to perform tricks with, or a coin to practise sleight of hand with, it wouldn't be so tedious inside the cell, but words have never been enough to keep him entertained.
Kaito misses being part of a crowd.
"Damn that detective," Kaito says and he's not exactly sure whether he's cursing Hakuba or Kudo, "keeping me cooped up like this."
Ah, Hakuba then.
"And that idiot, always creating more questions than answers. Damn them both."
And Kudo.
He decides that the only interesting option will be to go down to the kitchen and attempt to find more information on the prisoner who's left him in a fit of confusion.
Kudo is not in the kitchen, nor is he in the cafeteria. Solitary then, Kaito supposes.
"That idiot," Kaito sighs, "causing all this trouble for me."
Behind him, snickering catches his attention. He leans against the wall temporarily, listening in to the conversation behind him.
'I can't believe they'd try to mess with a guy like that.'
'They're not messing with him, they're just giving him a taste of what'll happen next.'
Kaito takes a deep breath, glances around until he meets the gaze of the group who're crowded in a circle. One of them catches his eye, smiles over at him - he's never learned the man's name, hasn't really cared enough to learn it.
It's not like he's going to be here long enough to make fake friendships.
"Don't you worry KID," the guy says, "you won't have to deal with him long."
Kaito scowls, turns around. And then - then he hears the cry. It's choked pain, low and guttural, almost like a wounded animal. Someone laughs.
He turns, follows after the sound until he's in the kitchens stock room, glancing at the backs of four men each one glowering down at a figure: Kudo. He's holding his throat, coughing on dry air.
"Wh- What are you doing?" Kaito says, racing forwards. He shoves past the prisoners, dropping down in front of Kudo, glancing at the raw fingermarks against his neck.
"We're just training him," one of the men says, and… wait, is that Yoshida at the side of the group? Didn't he learn enough after losing one eye? "You know, for when it actually happens."
"For what happens?" Kaito says, shielding Kudo from the others.
"You didn't know?" Laughter echoes the room, "we're just training him for the same thing that awaits every serial killer. We're all very eager to buy tickets, Kudo, wouldn't do well for you to get to hurt now."
Kaito watches them as they leave.
And slowly, it clicks.
"They're going to hang you." He turns back to Kudo, eyes wide. It's the standard punishment for serial murders, for them to be executed. And with six murders under his belt, Kudo is going to die.
Kudo glances at him, and Kaito can see he's trying to hide his wounds - not the physical ones, but the emotional ones that he's harboring. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about it, things don't hurt as much if you leave them alone to form a scab.
"That's why your parents want you to escape, that's why you're so urgent…" Kaito whispers, "because you'll be killed."
"They… can't until I… turn eighteen," Kudo rasps, "but when I do…"
May 3rd. The day before Kudo's birthday, the day he becomes a legal adult, the day they can finally start pushing the process for his execution. Any day after would possibly be his last. It makes every breath harder to bear.
From the moment he first met him, Kudo has made it clear that people should be punished. It's why he fought back against Yoshida, it's why he tries to maintain order in the prison. For him, someone who's so hellbent on justice to try to escape his own punishment…
"You didn't kill them, did you?"
Kudo coughs. It is only now that Kaito can see the tears lurking behind his eyes. He looks helpless, staring up at the thief - it reminds him of himself, the moment he'd found out about his father's murder, the way he'd felt when they'd buried him in the ground.
"I didn't."
If you're freaking out, the author is very inclined to listen to your screams.