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It’s sunset by the time the last few of the black-clothed huddle of people finally drift away from the site. Rows upon rows of large stone monuments are cast in an orange glow by the rays of dying light, their shadows set in steep contrast.
It’s funnily nostalgic, he muses to himself as he slips out from the cover of the surrounding trees, having to hide from people in black. Back then, he hid from the unknown, the dangerous phantoms that lurked in the places no one should look. Now, it’s the reverse. He waits in those very same places, ducking out of sight from the familiar, the reminiscent, for fear that it might know him. After all, waiting is what he does best. And If there’s anything in the world he can spare to kill, it’s time.
“It’s that time of year again, hmm?” the elderly man murmurs from the bench with a faint whimsy as Conan approaches the spot to deposit his sparse handful of zinnias among the many arrangements of flowers already laid there. “All these years later, and he still has this many fans coming to remember him.”
“Finally showing your face after all this time?” The man cocks a familiar grin. Conan’s expression sours. “Bold of you.”
“We both know this isn’t my real face.”
“Do you even still have one?”
The man laughs, a sound which to anyone else would seem genuine, but to Conan’s ears the fine traces of dryness in it that indicates his utter lack of humor is gratingly obvious. “Dad was always telling me how important it was to keep a poker face. An outside face that never changes no matter what’s going on under the surface. I don’t think he expected me to take it so literally.”
“Why are you here?”
“Why do you think? I’m paying my respects.”
“...”
“...I miss Tantei-han just as much as anyone, you know.”
“Up and vanishing for decades is a funny way of showing it.”
“...I’d hoped you would’ve been happier to see an old friend.”
Conan stiffens, and the silence they find themselves stewing in is far longer than the last one. Eventually, the man in the mask sighs, leaning back against the bench.
“I… Needed time. Time to myself, to think, to plan, to process – to grieve. Everything that happened that day – Hell, not just that, the whole thing. Being KID, balancing it with… her, realizing just how much it was gonna cost me – You know, I can juggle a lot of things at once, but.. It was too much. So I stopped.”
“You stopped.”
“Cut all ties,” he shrugs. “Ran away, packed up and left. We all had ways of coping.”
“You couldn’t hold on, I couldn’t let go.” Conan smiles wryly, shoulders slumping, and falls back on the bench next to KID.
“Pardon?”
“I didn’t stop calling. Not for years. Not until – Well, that’s not the point. They say the first stage of grief is denial, after all.”
“Now isn’t that the truth.”
Another silence, this one just as heavy, but the bitter tension from before having been replaced with a common understanding.
And they sit there for a while, a long while. The inky golden puddles of fading sun squeeze out their last rays before disappearing over the horizon, leaving only a faint orange glow that turns dusty pink, then a dusky grey-blue for a while. The stars slowly poke up their twinkling little heads from the sleepiness of day, before the nebulous near-black canvas of night sky finally blankets all. Conan lets the sleep take him.
When he awakes, the morning light shining through the trees to greet him, the other is gone, and when he manages to make his way home and stumble through the door, yawning all the way, he sees the breaking news flash across the TV screen of the first Kaito KID heist notice in a long, long time.
The night is cold and the lights are blinding. Cameras flash in the Inspector’s eyes invasively, though fewer than he would’ve expected given the circumstances, and a microphone pokes itself into his face, demanding answers.
“Inspector Tsuburaya, folks are calling the authenticity of this heist into question. How can you confirm that this is, in fact, planned and perpetuated by the same Kaito KID that vanished 40 years ago, and not one of the many hoaxes and copycats that have grown more frequent after his disappearance?”
The rather tall, older man leans into the mic with a confident smile. “My experts have determined that the signature on the note is indeed authentic. Never once in the two-decade span that the KID was active had there been any note faked so acutely that they’ve been fully examined and still wrongly deduced to be genuine.”
“The public isn’t so sure, Inspector. KID made his debut over 60 years ago. How do you propose a man that should be well into his eighties is going to perform such a physically demanding activity? Surely he isn’t some sort of actual phantom.”
“Don’t be silly. In this day and age, supernatural things like ghosts and phantoms should be left for comic books and movies. There is only one truth, and it’s rooted in science and reality, not children’s tales.”
“Then what are you proposing? After such a long hiatus, what makes you so confident?”
“The answer is a theory I’ve been holding onto ever since I took over as the head of this department. Point of evidence number one: This isn’t the first time he’s gone on break. After going over all the case files with the retired Superintendent Hakuba, we concluded that after disappearing for eight years the first time, there were subtle, but noticeable differences between the control and mannerisms of the Kaito KID from then and before. Furthermore, KID has been known to consistently have an accomplice, or so we call them. The accomplice’s public sightings are few and far in-between, but through careful and tedious pouring over clues footage and documents from old heists, we determined that the accomplice from before his first hiatus was not the same assistant as the one after. It’s possible that these accessories were indeed not sidekicks, but proteges. I believe I am justified in putting forth the theory that Kaito KID is not in fact one person, but a torch that is passed from master to apprentice over the years, extensively trained in the art of the phantom thief to fully replicate the persona and take on the mantle. This new Kaito KID may be a different person from the ones we’ve witnessed before, but we expect him to be just as formidable.”
Mitsuhiko had always been a clever boy, enough to come this close to the whole truth, and it’s through no shortcoming of his own that he still remains so far from it. Of course, the crowd erupts anyway.
“Inspector, in accordance with your theory, what could have caused such a long gap between the appearances of this Kaito KID and the last?”
“When can the public expect for you to release the full evidence to substantiate your conclusions?”
“Inspector Tsuburaya, neither of your two predecessors were able to apprehend the previous Kaito KIDs. How do you plan to change your strategy to avoid making the same mistakes they did?”
Tsuburaya clears his throat to get the crowd’s attention. “I won’t claim that our team knows everything. We have no idea what to expect from this new phantom thief. However, we’ve equipped the location with a team of highly-trained personnel, top-of-the-line cameras, back-up generators, and newly developed ID technology. We don’t expect to catch him the first time, but our hopes for this heist are to observe his patterns, figure out his tricks, and formulate an effective strategy for next time. I’ll take one more question.”
The clamor of shouts and waving hands in the front makes seeing those farther out difficult, but Tsuburaya carefully peers past them to select the one raised hand that stands perfectly still, belonging to a rather young-looking, stone calm reporter. The deadpan face shifts into a sly, familiar grin once he sees that he’s been acknowledged, and for a moment, the two of them share a secret they both know the other knows.
“Inspector-san, even after seeing him go unscathed by police after all these years, what still motivates you to keep pushing in your pursuit of the Kaito KID?”
“Well, I did promise my little daughter at home that I’d catch that big bad nasty thief for her.” the Inspector jokes, earning a round of chuckles from the other reporters. “But, well… Let’s just say I’m following in the footsteps of an old friend.”
The crowd doesn’t seem to understand what he means by that, but the one journalist sinks back contently, eyes closed with a knowing half-smile, as the Inspector strolls casually back into the tall building the heist is to be held in.
“Ready, men?”
“Ready, chief!” they chorus. He’d given them the briefing earlier that day, and the building is swarming with security personnel that have been standing at the ready for hours, waiting for the time at hand.
“How long until the ETA?” Tsuburaya asks a straight-backed guard to his side as he enters the corridor to the thief’s eyed prize, the Lady Eclipse.
“Eighteen minutes, sir!”
“Plenty of time.” He smiles, and heads off to check on the vulnerability of the ventilation system.
After every possible facet of the museum and its security has been checked and double checked for unnoticed vulnerabilities, everything is set to go with only two minutes left until the anticipated time. The sentinels shift from foot to foot nervously, waiting for a loud voice or a sudden blackout, something that indicates their target has arrived.
And arrive he does, flashy smoke pouring from the ceiling and walls like cotton candy to blind every officer in the room. Tsuburaya coughs and shields his eyes, while several guards form a defensive ring of locked arms around the display case as per protocol.
The precautionary fans and vents switch on with a loud whoosh that drowns out the panicked shouts of the guards, sucking away the fog and lifting the veil to reveal, in genuine KID tradition, a perfectly empty case. The Inspector had never been a particularly reactive or aggressive man, that part had been the one played by his old friend Kojima, but for the sake of the act, he puts on his best angry drill sergeant voice and shouts, “Find him!”
At that, the shocked stillness of the dumbstruck room turns into busy commotion, every true security guard rushing to verify their partners, then check every nook and cranny for jewels or tricks according to procedures. They find nothing, as Tsuburaya expects, but of course, he has other plans. By the time they’re collected enough to report their lack of findings to him, he’s already made his way up the rickety old stairway to the museum rooftop.
For a moment, on the opposite end of the building, his sharp eyes spot a flash of movement, a figure of far shorter stature than KID or any of the staff in his employ, barely glimpsing them as the top of their head disappears down the thin iron ladder that’s used in emergency situations. But for some reason, they seem familiar, almost as if… No, that can’t be it. The nostalgia must be getting to him, he thinks. Conan’s hair hadn’t even been close to that shade of brown anyway. He can’t dwell on it for long though, thoroughly distracted by the white billowing cape and glint of a telltale monocle from the top of the AC unit above him.
“Why, Inspector-san! How cleverly you’ve found me.”
“My old friend was very familiar with your habits.”
“Of course! I remember little KID-Killer very fondly. Shame about him having to move back to America.” Tsuburaya grimaces at that. “I also remember you, little Mitsuhiko-kun. Always logical, always curious. It’s no wonder you grew up to be just as clever as he was.”
“I’m sure your predecessor’s told you all about me.” He smirks, to which KID doesn’t respond the way he anticipates.
“Oho! if you want to think of it like that, I won’t stop you.”
“Are you trying to convince me my theory was wrong?”
“Tsk, tsk, you know a magician never reveals his secrets.”
“No worries. I’ll figure them all out eventually.”
“Next time, perhaps. But for now…” KID holds up his hand to the sky, his acquired prize glinting in the moonlight. “The show’s over, so I’ll be returning this to your possession.”
The chilling wind whips at Tsuburaya’s hair as he watches the phantom thief vanish in a puff of smoke, leaving behind only a small cushion on the ground that neatly cradles the dark and light dapples of the Lady Eclipse. He picks it up gently and makes his way down the stairs again.
To his surprise, what greets him as he enters the director’s office after reaching the bottom is not the gruff salute of one of his men, but the excited squeal of his favorite little girl in the world.
“Daddy!” He’s barely prepared to scoop her up in his arms as she rushes at him.
“What are you doing here, Aimi?”
“Mr. Officer said the bad guy was gone so it was safe to come in!”
“Did he, now?” Tsuburaya kisses the top of his daughter’s soft brown hair gently. “I hope he was sure about that.”
“Did you catch the thief, Daddy?” Tsuburaya pauses for a moment.
“Hm… No,” he chortles, “But look what I’ve got here. See this pretty jewel? Daddy kept it safe and sound.”
Aimi breaks into a grin and starts clapping with a delighted squeak, and Tsuburaya sets her down and puts a hand on her shoulders.
“Daddy’s got to go wrap this up with the other policemen, Aimi. Can you be a good girl and sit here while he works?” The girl nods eagerly, leaving Tsuburaya assured as he straightens up and continues the Detective Boys tradition of leaving 6-year-olds largely unattended in criminal situations.
Now alone, Aimi hoists herself up on one of the big officer’s chairs as he leaves and begins to swing her legs back and forth idly, occupying herself with the tugging of a loose thread on one of her socks. It’s not exactly the most entertaining thing, but the book she’s reading had been left at home, and it isn’t long before something interrupts it, a creak from behind one of the shelves of files. Aimi freezes, caught off guard, before cautiously creeping towards the source of the noise. She makes sure to be extra quiet, because it could be the KID guy, and if Aimi catches that bad thief, she could get rich and famous and it would make Daddy very happy! So she creeps closer and closer to the shelf until she’s juuust close enough, and pounces.
“Gh!” her quarry grunts, the high-pitched voice revealing it to be nothing more than a boy. Though, she would sort of expect a louder reaction to being jumped from a kid her age. He rubs his scalp and readjusts his glasses as Aimi quickly stumbles backwards in regret.
“Y-You’re not Kaito KID.” He looks up at her and pauses for a few seconds, seemingly processing, his piercing stare uncomfortably analytic for her tastes. Then, to her surprise, he chuckles a bit, fondly.
“You really did get your personality from your parents, didn’t you?” This makes her frown a bit, confused.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ah, nothing. Forget I said it.” She glares at him suspiciously, to which he raises his hands in submission. “I’m not the Kaito KID, in case you’re still wondering.”
She crosses her arms. “What are you doing here, then?”
“Huh.” He mulls over his answer for a bit, cautiously. “Why don’t we just say I’m here to reacquaint with someone.”
“Aimi didn’t mean at the museum.” She decides to ignore the big word he’s just used that she doesn’t understand and save looking it up for after this is dealt with. “Why are you here here? Hiding and being all sneaky and stuff.”
“Ahhh... Hm.” She glares at him while he ponders. “There’s an old friend here that I’m not yet ready to meet.”
“That’s silly, there’s nobody here besides grown-ups!”
“Grown-ups can be old friends too, y’know.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” She pouts, but before there can be any more thoughts on the subject, they’re interrupted by footsteps coming from the hallway leading up to the room. Aimi barely notices them, but as soon as the mysterious stranger catches the first wind of the faint thudding of boots on a carpet, he jumps up and heads for the only window in the room.
“Wait! Where are you going?” She asks in concern. He pauses, a flicker of melancholy crossing his face for just an instant
“I’m hiding from my old friend.”
“Are you gonna come back?” She panics, having only just taken an interest in the boy.
“No, not this time.” He gives her a reassuring smile as he climbs up on the sill. “But I’m sure our paths will cross again.”
She doesn’t have the time to reply, because the sound of Daddy’s hand gently turning the brass doorknob gets the boy moving again, and by the time Daddy comes in, he’s already gone out.
“Sorry that took so long, Aimi. Did you get lonely in here?” He picks her up again, and she turns her face away from his own shyly.
“...No.”
“That’s good. I thought I heard voices in here, were you talking to someone?”
“...No.”
“Well, ok, then. Let’s get you home, sweetie.”
The next time Daddy sets out to catch the big bad thief, Aimi brings her book. The other boy peers over her shoulder while she’s reading alone and comments on it, startling her.
“Science facts, huh? Is this for school?”
“No.” Aimi beams proudly. “Aimi’s gonna learn all about science, so she can be a scientist when she grows up!”
“That’s very smart of you.” He pokes her shoulder proudly. “You know, one of my best friends is a scientist. Having goals for when you grow up this early is good.”
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna be when you’re all grown up?”
“...” His face turns bitter, suddenly, and he falls silent for a good while. Aimi isn’t sure what she did wrong, but she doesn’t like the mood that has settled in the room now, and she wants it to go away.
“...I’m sorry if that was a mean question. You don’t have to answer it.”
The boy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s not your fault. I just have some… Feelings... I need to work out.”
She doesn’t really understand, but she doesn’t press any further, and they spend the rest of their short night together in silence.
The next time she sees him, she’s turned seven, and she brings new knowledge with her.
“How do I know you’re not Kaito KID?”
The boy responds with a confused laugh. “What, this again?”
She crosses her arms and declares, “Aimi’s teacher told her what KID means in English. You’re a kid, so you fit the bill.”
“If I was KID, wouldn’t I be making my escape right now instead of talking to you?”
Aimi puts a finger to her chin and contemplates with a furrowed brow.
“Hm… Yeah. I guess you’re right.” Then, she beams. “So I guess we can keep being friends!”
He smiles back, a little wearily.
“Yeah. I guess we can.”
And so they do, for a while, at least, meeting at heists, talking about things both mundane and interesting. They learn more about each other, or rather, he learns more about her. He’s eager to listen to everything she has to say, but when she asks him his name, or what school he goes to, or when his birthday is, he isn’t nearly so willing to impart.
The last time they meet, one has changed and the other one hasn’t.
“I’m taller than you.” The newly turned 9-year-old smirks from behind him, in one of the rare times she’s managed to sneak up on him instead of the other way around.
She expects him to be startled, sure, but she doesn’t expect the color to drain from his face the way it does. He doesn’t move, so she pokes his shoulder.
“Hey, it was just a joke, don’t worry. Mom says that girls start growing fast before boys do. I’m sure you’ll be taller than me again in no time. I won’t think you’re any less cool just because you’re short.”
He finally responds, a little shaky this time. “Y-Yeah. Sorry. Spaced out for a bit.”
She’s a little concerned for her friend sometimes, but it seems like he’s almost back to normal, so she figures it’s just one of his odd spells.
He acts normally for the rest of the heist, save for one unusual occurrence. Normally, when he leaves, he just slips out unnoticed, or bolts without saying anything, like she could see him one moment and then not see him the next. This time, he lingers for a little bit on the railing of the balcony he’s jumping down from, just looking at her. And then, a word so faint, it could barely be called more than a whisper. It’s a word she’s never heard the boy say before.
“Goodbye.”
Aimi comes to many, many heists after that, but she never sees him again.