An hour had passed, and Kaito still hadn't slept. He lay on the couch, staring into the dark ceiling as thoughts spiraled in his mind like a storm refusing to settle.
"How do I defeat him?" The question echoed again and again, relentless. He clenched his fists, frustration eating away at his composure.
"I saw it... that impossible thing... teleportation." The image of the man blinking from one place to another burned into his thoughts. Was it a technique? A trick? Or something beyond human?
The room was quiet, yet his thoughts were loud. Outside, the wind whispered through cracks in the window.
Time: 11:56 PM
"Are they demons...? Or from another world?" he whispered aloud, not expecting an answer. The silence that followed felt heavier.
He let out a tired sigh and looked down at his hands, the skin sore and slightly red from hours of researching and scribbling on scraps of paper. Clues. Patterns. Timelines. All of it felt like water slipping through his fingers.
He stood and stretched, joints popping from the tension.
Time: 11:58 PM
"Alright… let's see if I reset."
He sat back on the couch, eyes fixed on the clock. Each second that ticked by was a beat in his chest, a silent countdown to either salvation or another dead end.
1 minute and 30 seconds left.
His breathing slowed. His eyes didn't blink. He stared.
30 seconds left.
His thoughts focused: This time… I'll remember. This time, I'll win.
10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…
Darkness swallowed everything.
Kaito jolted awake, sitting on the couch. His breath caught. His gaze snapped to the clock.
11:58 PM.
Reset.
"Hey Kaito, you want juice?" Airi's voice floated from the kitchen.
"What?" He barely heard her.
"I said—do you want some juice?"
"Huh?" Still disoriented.
"KAITO, YOU WANT JUICE?!" Airi screamed playfully.
"Y-yeah. Thanks."
"No problem!" she replied cheerfully.
He took the juice and drank it in one gulp. Cold. Sweet. Refreshing.
"So good," he muttered.
"Really?" Airi blushed, her voice soft. "Thank you…"
Kaito smiled gently. "Airi-chan is so cute."
"Sh-Shut up!" she turned away, her face crimson.
Kaito leaned back, eyes blank. "I can't escape this day…" he thought, a deep disbelief rooting itself in his chest.
"Airi, I'll step out for a bit. I'll be quick."
"What? You just got here and now you want to leave?" Her voice wavered between annoyance and concern. "Hmph. Fine, go! Don't come back!" she pouted.
"Sorry, sorry! I'll be quick, I promise."
She looked away. "...Alright. Just be careful, okay?"
He smiled. "Yeah. I will."
He waved and left, the cold night air brushing against his skin. The moon hung high, indifferent. As he walked the empty streets, a familiar chill crept into his bones.
His footsteps echoed through alleys until he spotted a familiar figure.
"Aoi!"
No response.
"Hey, Aoi!" he called louder.
Aoi turned, eyes wide. "Oh, are you looking for me?"
"Yeah. What are you holding?"
Kaito's eyes narrowed. Aoi was holding them. The gloves.
Aoi glanced at the gloves. "I found these in a trash can. Weird, right?"
Kaito's heart skipped. The same gloves… glowing with power.
"Do they glow when you touch them?"
Aoi nodded slowly. "Yeah… how did you know that?"
Kaito shrugged. "I've seen them before. Let me guess, they glowed white for you?"
Aoi's brows furrowed. "You know too much. How do you know that?"
"I saw it glow in your hands," Kaito replied, mixing truth with a lie.
Aoi relaxed a bit. "Oh. I see."
"Were you going to throw them away?"
"Yeah. Just felt off. You want them?"
"Yes. I need them."
Aoi handed them over. Kaito held the gloves—cold leather, stitched with the faint red insignia of a twisted star.
He walked into a shadowy alley with no people around. His heart pounded.
"Let's see what happens…" he whispered, slipping the gloves on.
As soon as he wore them, a pulse of heat surged through his arms. His vision blurred. His mind screamed.
"What's happening to m—"
Everything went black.
When his eyes opened, he was no longer himself.
"Kill… destroy… erase them all…"
Voices. Whispers. Screams. They weren't his, but they lived inside him.
His fingers twitched. The gloves pulsed with a violet light—not white.
A twisted urge bubbled within him.
"Kill. Kill. Kill."
But deep inside, his voice resisted.
"No… I'm not… this isn't me!"
He clutched his head, falling to his knees.
Visions of blood. Screams. Faces he didn't recognize. People falling. Laughter. Crimson rain.
His breathing grew erratic.
"This is not who I am!"
He slammed his fists into the pavement. Pain. He welcomed it.
The gloves crackled, the light flickering violently. A struggle.
Inside, two wills clashed. One, a mindless beast. The other, a broken boy with a heart too stubborn to die.
"I won't kill for you. I won't become like him."
He saw the assassin's face in his mind—the star mark, the knife, the blood. His family. Aiko.
Kaito screamed into the night, a howl of agony and defiance.
Then silence.
The glow dimmed. His body slumped.
He was still there. Barely.
But for how long?