Chapter 14: Sunset.
The phone in Kaito's hand felt different. For years, it had been a smooth, rectangular object of utility—a source of synthesized voices and tactile buttons. Now, as he held it against his ear, he found himself distracted by the way the black screen reflected the ceiling light, a small, captured star on the glass surface.
"Kaito?" Tokoyami's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding tinny compared to the rich baritone Kaito usually heard in person. "You went silent. Did you hear me?"
Kaito blinked, pulling his focus back. "Sorry. I'm just... looking at the phone while I talk to you. It's strange."
"I can imagine," Tokoyami replied. There was a pause, a rare hesitation from the usually stoic boy. "So, it is true? Your mother wasn't exaggerating when she picked up the phone earlier?"
"It's true," Kaito said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I see everything, Tokoyami. The walls, the floor, the dust motes in the air. It's... a lot."
"Can I come over?" Tokoyami asked immediately. "Now?"
"Yeah," Kaito said. "Actually, let's go for a walk. I want to see the outside."
"I will be there in ten minutes."
Kaito spent those ten minutes standing in the genkan (entryway), just staring at the front door. He traced the wood grain with his eyes. He watched how the light from the hallway cast a shadow that stretched long and thin across the tile. He had memorized this space by steps and echoes—two steps to the shoe rack, three steps to the door—but seeing the actual distance felt like learning a new language.
Ding-dong.
The sound was the same, but knowing exactly where it came from—the small white box high on the wall—was a revelation.
"I've got it!" Kaito shouted to his mother, who was hovering nervously in the kitchen doorway.
He reached out. His hand didn't fumble. He watched his own fingers wrap around the silver metal of the lock, twisting it. He watched the handle turn. He pulled the heavy metal door open, and the afternoon sunlight crashed in, blinding him for a split second.
As his eyes adjusted, the silhouette in the doorway resolved into clarity.
Kaito froze. His jaw went slack.
He knew Tokoyami Fumikage. He had known him for years. He knew the texture of his feathers from accidental bumps. He knew the shape of his energy signature—a dark, brooding core with the wild, shifting mass of Dark Shadow attached.
But seeing him... really seeing him... was a shock that hit him in the chest.
Tokoyami stood on the porch, wearing a dark T-shirt and cargo shorts. His human body was lean and fit. But his head...
He was elegant—jet-black and avian. His feathers were a deep, matte black, absorbing the sunlight rather than reflecting it. His beak was sharp and curved, a pale yellow. His eyes were narrow and gold, glowing with a steady, ember-like intensity, watching the world with unwavering focus.
Kaito just stared. He didn't say a word.
"Kaito?" Tokoyami shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny. "You are staring."
"You..." Kaito breathed. He took a step forward, reaching out without thinking. "Your head..."
Tokoyami blinked. "Excuse me?"
Kaito stepped forward, smiling with excitement as he reached his companion. He began to run his fingers through his feathers, remembering that familiar texture, laughing as he said, "You really are Tokoyami!"
"Oi," Tokoyami swatted Kaito's hand away, his feathers ruffling in annoyance. "Stop this.."
Kaito pulled his hand back, but he burst out laughing. "I'm sorry! It's just... you look so cool! I always knew you were a bird, but seeing it is completely different! You look like a knight from a fantasy story!"
Tokoyami crossed his arms, looking away, though the feathers on his neck seemed to puff up slightly in what might have been embarrassment—or pride. "Hmph. Flattery will get you nowhere. Put your shoes on."
"Kaito!" Aoi appeared at the door, clutching a small bag. She looked from Kaito to Tokoyami, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Are you leaving? Do you have your sunglasses? The light might be too strong. Tokoyami-kun, please, hold his hand when you cross the street. He doesn't know what a red light looks like yet. And watch out for the curbs, depth perception is tricky at first!"
"Mom, I'm fine," Kaito groaned, slipping his feet into his sneakers—watching them slide in perfectly without having to feel for the heel. "I can see the cars. I'm not going to walk into traffic."
"I will ensure his safety, Mrs. Kurosawa," Tokoyami said with a respectful bow. "We will not go far."
"Thank you," Aoi sighed, leaning against the doorframe as she watched them go. "Have fun."
The walk was slow. Not because Kaito couldn't walk fast, but because he stopped every five meters.
"What is that?" Kaito pointed at a red metal cylinder on the sidewalk.
"A fire hydrant," Tokoyami said.
"It's so... bright," Kaito squinted at the red paint. "Is that red? The color of danger?"
"Yes. Red."
They walked a bit further. Kaito stopped again, staring up at a vending machine. The lights, the colorful cans, the digital display—it was a kaleidoscope of information. He pressed his face close to the glass. "Look at the blue one! It looks cold. Just looking at the color makes me feel cold. That's amazing."
"It is a soda, Kaito. Come on."
They ended up at a small ice cream parlor near the park. They sat on a bench outside, Kaito holding a cone with three scoops—strawberry, vanilla, and matcha green tea.
He didn't eat it immediately. He held it up, turning it in the sunlight, watching the pink, white, and green contrast with the blue sky.
"Pink," Kaito murmured, pointing to the strawberry. "Green. White."
"Correct," Tokoyami said, nursing a black coffee. He watched his friend. Kaito was usually composed, mature for his age, perhaps hardened by the necessity of navigating a dark world. But today, he was vibrating with a childish, infectious energy. He was laughing at a butterfly that fluttered past. He was grinning at a dog walking by.
"You are different today," Tokoyami observed.
Kaito took a bite of the strawberry scoop, flinching at the cold before smiling. "I feel different. Lighter. For years, my world was... heavy. I had to 'feel' everything. I had to be aware of every vibration, every sound. It was exhausting, Tokoyami. Now... I can just look. The information comes to me. I don't have to chase it."
He laughed, a bright, unburdened sound. "And I can see my best friend's grumpy face."
Tokoyami's beak clicked against his cup. A rare, small smile tugged at the corner of his beak. "I am not grumpy. I am contemplative."
"Sure, sure. Grumpy bird."
By evening, they found themselves at the edge of the beach, leaning against the rusty iron railing of the seawall. The sun was beginning its descent, igniting the horizon.
Kaito went silent.
The sky was no longer blue. It was a canvas of fire—streaks of burning orange, deep bruising purples, and soft, cotton-candy pinks bleeding into the darkening water. The ocean itself, usually just a rhythmic crashing sound to Kaito, was alive. The waves caught the dying light, transforming into rolling sheets of molten gold and indigo.
The wind whipped Kaito's black hair across his face, but he didn't blink. His pitch-black eyes reflected the sunset, holding the entire sky within them.
"I used to stand here," Kaito whispered, his voice trembling slightly, "and I would listen to the water. I thought I knew what the ocean was. I thought it was just... big and loud and wet."
He gripped the railing, the rust staining his palms.
"I had no idea," he said softly. "I had no idea it was this beautiful."
Tokoyami stood beside him, the wind ruffling his black feathers. He looked out at the horizon, his red eyes narrowing against the glare.
"This is where we stood," Tokoyami said, his voice low, "when I told you I would join U.A."
Kaito turned to look at him. The sunset cast long shadows across Tokoyami's face, making the Dark Shadow quirk inside him stir restlessly.
"I can't believe you actually took the exam," Tokoyami continued. "I saw you in the waiting area, but we were separated. Then... the incident happened."
"I forgot all about the results," Kaito admitted, looking back at the water. "With my eyes coming back... the exam feels like a lifetime ago."
"It has been a chaotic week for you," Tokoyami nodded. "But the results... they are the key to the next step."
"When do they come out?"
"Two weeks," Tokoyami said. "Or so the pamphlet said."
Kaito let out a long breath. "Two weeks. That's a long time to wait." He looked at his hands, the hands that had crushed robots and lifted friends. "I hope we made it. I really hope we made it."
"We did what we could," Tokoyami said firmly. "Now, we wait."
The walk back to the Kurosawa house was done under the purple haze of twilight. Streetlights flickered on, casting pools of artificial yellow light on the pavement. Kaito walked with more confidence now, but he still hesitated at intersections, the headlights of passing cars creating dazzling streaks that confused his depth perception.
When they reached the gate, Aoi was already opening the door.
"You're back!" She looked relieved, scanning Kaito for scrapes or bruises.
"We are back, Mrs. Kurosawa," Tokoyami said. "Safe and sound."
"Thank you so much, Tokoyami-kun," Aoi said, bowing deeply. "I'm sorry to burden you. It's just... he's not used to seeing the world yet. To him, all the buildings look the same right now. He doesn't have a visual map of the neighborhood. Without you, he might have gotten lost two blocks away."
Kaito opened his mouth to protest, to say he wasn't helpless, but he closed it. She was right. The world was a labyrinth of similar shapes and colors he hadn't deciphered yet.
Tokoyami shook his head. "Please, do not apologize. He is my friend. It is my pleasure to walk with him."
Aoi smiled, a genuine, warm expression. "What a polite friend you have, Kaito."
"He's the best," Kaito grinned, punching Tokoyami lightly on the arm.
"I will take my leave," Tokoyami bowed again. "See you later, Kaito."
"Yeah. See you."
The two weeks that followed were a strange purgatory.
Kaito spent them relearning his life. He learned to read again— The strain that once exhausted him—sorting ink from paper through sheer sensory focus—was gone. Now he could see the letters clearly, as if his world had shifted from a grainy 144p to breathtaking 4K clarity. Struggling through children's books at first to get used to the font shapes, then rapidly progressing. He learned to navigate the house without counting steps. He learned that spinach was green and that he didn't like the look of it, even though he liked the taste.
Then, exactly fourteen days after the exam, the hum of a motorbike broke the afternoon silence.
The mailman, clad in a crisp blue uniform, pulled up to the curb. He checked the address on a sleek, electronic pad, then reached into the pannier of his bike.
He didn't pull out a letter.
He pulled out a box. It was white, with a gold U.A. wax seal stamped on the top.
The mailman walked up the path to the Kurosawa house. He double-checked the name on the label.
To: Kurosawa Kaito.
He rang the doorbell.
Inside, Kaito Kurosawa looked up from a book. He saw the door. He saw the shape of the mailman through the frosted glass. And for the first time in two weeks, his heart started to hammer not with the joy of sight, but with the terrified thrill of a dream hanging in the balance.
.
.
.
.