The academy was quiet for once. Too quiet.
Kaito hated that kind of silence. It made everything feel heavier—like the walls were waiting for something to go wrong. He was leaning against the railing of one of the upper floors, staring down at the empty hall below, arms crossed, jaw set in that stubborn way he always had when he was thinking too hard.
A soft clap echoed behind him.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the Luminary of the Stars himself, brooding dramatically.” Kokichi’s voice slid into the silence like it belonged there. Light. Mocking. Almost playful.
Kaito didn’t turn around immediately. “What do you want, Oma?”
Kokichi hummed as he stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. He tilted his head slightly, violet eyes sharp despite the innocent smile plastered across his face.
"Can’t I just admire the view? Or are you claiming ownership of hallways now too?” The air between them felt different lately. Not friendly. Not exactly hostile either. Just… charged.
Since the last trial, something had shifted. Kaito had stopped brushing Kokichi off as just an annoying liar. And Kokichi had started lingering around him more often than usual—never for long, never openly, but enough to notice.
Kaito finally turned, frowning. “If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out.”
“Oh, I always have something to say,” Kokichi replied cheerfully. He leaned against the railing beside Kaito, far too close to be accidental. “But you only listen when it’s dramatic.”
Kaito scoffed, but he didn’t step away.
Kokichi glanced sideways at him, studying him in a way that didn’t match his usual exaggerated antics. His smile softened for just a fraction of a second before snapping back into place.
“You’re tense again. Planning to punch someone? Hopefully not me. My face is very important, you know.”
Silence settled again, thicker this time. The lights above flickered faintly, casting shifting shadows across Kokichi’s expression.
“You know,” he said more quietly, “you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. Even heroes get tired.”