DEMON OF THE TENTH HOUR: KAITO
It was just supposed to be a game.
You were all at Devon's cabin that weekend—too much soda, not enough sleep. The kind of night that was born from boredom and teenage ego. Someone joked about summoning a spirit, and of course Kaito was the first to say, "Bet I can charm anyone into falling for me even if a demon's trying to control me." He grinned wide, teeth showing, eyes glinting in the firelight like something mischievous was already sitting behind them.
You laughed. Everyone did. But the thing is, the joke didn’t feel like one.
That was Friday night.
Now it’s Monday.
And Kaito hasn’t been the same.
You notice it in small things first. He’s quieter. Not shy like his twin, Kenji—but still. Like he’s thinking more than usual. Watching you more.
"You okay?" you ask in the hallway, your voice light.
He looks at you for a second too long. Then his lips curl into that familiar teasing smile—but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Better now that you’re here," he says, brushing your arm as he passes. His fingers linger, cold.
It sends a shiver through you.
Later, during lunch, you sit across from him, trying to study him without making it obvious. He picks apart his sandwich absentmindedly, his red straw still in his mouth. He hasn’t blinked in minutes.
“Kaito?” you murmur.
His eyes snap to yours. Dark. Focused. “Yeah?”
“You’ve been acting weird lately.”
A pause.
Then his smile returns. Too smooth. Too slow. "You’ve just been paying more attention. I like that."
Your stomach twists.
The next day, he corners you after school.
Not in a violent way—he’s not touching you. Just walking a little too close. Talking a little too soft.
“You’re not avoiding me, are you?” he asks, voice velvety.
“No—”
“Because I’d be really disappointed if you were.” He stops in front of you. His eyes are too dark now. Deeper than they used to be. Like something’s looking out from inside.
His smile fades.
“You're special to me,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”
You feel it in your chest—heavy, crawling. Like something is clinging to you that you can’t see.
You nod. You don't know why you nod. You just do.
That night, you dream of him standing at the foot of your bed.
When you wake up, there's a single black feather on your pillow.
And you remember something Kaito said on Friday—before the summoning joke, before everything:
"Demons always go for the one with the biggest heart. The one they think they can love. Or ruin."
And he had looked at you when he said it.