Chapter Text
Hakuba stared at the space between the row of desks; he knew the dimensions of the aisle down to the last centimeter because he’d measured it out after class and yet he already knew what the outcome of this whole endeavor was going to be. Because for all the bookbags carefully stowed beneath chairs, there was one desk that he was never going to get past.
Kuroba idly paged through his textbook, staring out the window and not paying attention to what he was doing at all. The reason Hakuba knew that wasn’t because his eyes never strayed to the paper but rather because his hands never touched the raised braille lines and that the innocent swinging of the legs beneath his desk was just a ruse. He didn’t need to look out the window, the fact that it was cracked open beside him was all he needed to experience the birdsong and the rustle of the trees outside. But instead of enjoying the spring day, Hakuba knew Kaito was going to be engaged in something far more entertaining instead, at least to him.
Picking up his lunch, Hakuba started down the aisle with legs raised high to step over the space beside Kuroba’s desk. It may have been comically high, but that wasn’t going to be the reason for Kuroba’s laughter. He’d barely lifted his back foot up again, the horizon clearing with a ray of hope that he might make it, when a sharp snap sounded and he felt his foot catch on a slender pole, sending him careening into Fujiwara’s desk.
He caught himself before he could hit the floor but his elbow banged against the wood of the chair and his entire downfall was accompanied by a clear ringing laugh. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Kuroba bent forward with tears in his eyes, the blue focused not on him but on the chalkboard beyond, and his hands curled around red and white striped plastic.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he said, reaching forward and feeling around until he’d found Hakuba’s arm and patting it as if in consolation.
“That’s the third time this week, Kuroba,” Hakuba muttered, getting to his feet with his pride hurt more than any part of his body. “Will it ever stop being amusing?”
“Will you ever get bored of accusing me of being KID?” Kuroba shot back, still grinning although his laughter had stopped. “Or ragging on him either? I understand how he can slip past you at all the heists if you can’t even avoid little old me.”
Hakuba sighed, setting down his lunch on Fujiwara’s desk and watching Kuroba fold up his white cane with quick movements. Those long fingers had slipped notes onto his desk and curled around his arm instead of the banister when going down the stairs for weeks now, but this particular ritual was tripping him up, literally and figuratively. If he didn’t mistake the signs, and he was usually rather good about putting the clues together, then why did Kuroba seek him out one moment and the next one keep him from being able to cross a room without difficulty.
That thought gave him pause though. Without difficulty . Was this meant to be a lesson on the challenge that Kuroba faced every day? The unavoidable possibility of something tripping him up that he couldn’t see, even as prepared as he was. He’d seen the way Kuroba moved through the school, something easy about his step even as he took it with care, and the reckless abandon with which he wielded his cane.
“Not when there’s the possibility that you might just be him,” Hakuba answered finally, not willing to let go of his suspicions even when faced with Kuroba’s questions.
“You know he’s probably not blind right? I’ve heard the things he does, those crazy stunts.” Kuroba spread his hands to indicate himself. “Do I look like I can do that?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Hakuba said, dropping into the desk in front of Kuroba’s. “You can pull a trick just as well as he can, no doubt about it. Just look at how you keep getting me, you said it yourself. If you can get me, then why couldn’t you be him? Just another way to pull the wool over my eyes.”
“Don’t need to do that when it’s already dark,” Kuroba said with a slight smile, head propped on his hand. “Guess you’ll never know.”
Hakuba glanced over at his lunch still uneaten and the clock on the wall by the door. Making a call in the name of cracking at least one case, he twisted around and plonked the bento onto Kuroba’s desk with a hollow thunk.
“Eat lunch with me?”
“Was that your way of asking me out on a date? Because if so, I’m already full.” Kuroba smirked, fingers tracing the edge of the box despite his words.
Hakuba was glad Kuroba couldn’t see the red he could feel flooding his face and focused on spearing a slice of seasoned squash without fumbling it like he had his previous attempt at an exit.
“What about if I asked about the cafe down the street? Would your answer change?”
“Take me there and we’ll see.” Kuroba stuffed a piece of carefully prepared sausage into his mouth and spoke around it. “Well… I guess one of us will.”
Hakuba groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose but smiling despite himself. That counted as some kind of victory, and maybe he’d even get an answer for his other question some other time.